Features

New Year Dawns with more stories of Sri Lanka

Published

8 months ago

2026/01/4

The Ceylon Journal Volume 2 Number 2

In 2024, I helped launch the maiden issue of The Ceylon Journal [TCJ] to a full house at the elegant, near-patrician environs of the Sri Lanka Medical Association Auditorium. My encomium to the editor Avishka Mario Senewiratne for a well-wrought first issue was accompanied by a cautionary tale about the perils of editing. During my 16-year stint as editor of The Sri Lanka Journal of the Humanities [SLJH], I had observed how editorships sometimes become vanity projects which last only as long as the individual who does the job for a substantial period of time, retains interest; consequently, there was a need to plan for the TCJ’s long term future even as its first issue was drawing praise.

Less than a year later, I must necessarily rebuke myself with the biblical reprimand, “O ye of little faith”! Senewiratne has forged ahead and published two further issues of sustained quality with a fourth, the subject of this review, which will appear in early 2026. His energy does not show any sign of flagging.

The fourth issue begins with an interesting editorial-cum article by the editor “English Periodicals of Old Ceylon and the other The Ceylon Journal.” The pursuit through research to find a previous TCJ has inspired an expansive article that included journals and newspapers of the 19^th century. In rummaging through a scrapbook belonging to Edmund Blazé, Senewiratne had found “a fragile pamphlet announcing the forthcoming publication of a periodical titled The Ceylon Journal, dated 1894,” a journal that never got off the ground.

Avishka Mario Senewiratne

Compiling an article about journals of a particular historical period can become a monotonous exercise with titles being listed as a disk jockey would, say, announce songs on a radio show. But Senewiratne’s article is dynamic. I was fascinated to learn that the governor Sir Robert Wilmot Horton who founded the Colombo Journal had expressed views that were so anti-establishment that the Home Office had it suppressed. The role played by missionary societies in sustaining journals and newspapers until “the focus began to move from proselytization to cultural and intellectual engagement” is set down with evidence. Equally well rendered is the way Ceylonese gradually took over editorships once (presumably) the effects of the Colebrooke-Cameron reforms that led to English being taught extensively in Sri Lanka resulted in locals with the required competency to undertake these tasks.

When I approached Ian Goonetileke to submit an article for the last issue of SLJH to be published in the twentieth century, he produced “Robert Knox in the Kandyan Kingdom 1660-1679: A Bio-Bibliographical Commentary 1975 (Addendum 1998),” his last published work. In acceding to my request, he asked if his friend Merlin Peris in turn would write another piece on his passion for “pachyderms,” a teasing reference to Peris’s “Knox on Elephants” which had appeared in a previous issue. Ironically, it was in Peris’s home that I last met CR de Silva, the author of “Elephants in Sri Lanka.” De Silva’s is more generalized than Peris’s research since it covers three centuries—the 16^th to the 18^th.

According to popular wisdom, elephants are categorized as Indian and African. De Silva adds a twist to this by identifying a subdivision because the Sri Lankan elephant was considered superior to the Indian from antiquity. He quotes Megasthenes in the third Century BC who declares that “Sri Lankan elephants were more powerful, larger and more intelligent than the mainland (Indian) elephants,” This is a view that is shared by other elephants, apparently! He cites Ribiero’s 17^th century narrative: “Ten or twelve (elephants) from various parts were employed in dragging logs at the docks in Goa, but when one of the Ceilao animals was sent to work at the dock where all the others were, as soon as ever he entered, the others made him an obeisance with great humility.”

In this work of outstanding scholarship, de Silva explores how elephants were used over three centuries for multifarious tasks. He dwells at length on the way elephants were hunted, tamed and sold overseas and the conflicts between humans and elephants which exist to date. In conclusion, he points out areas that future researchers should take up.

Nimal D. Rathnayake concentrates on “the Rock Painting and Engraving Sites (RPES) that have come to our attention in the period since the late 19^th century” with reference to “Gehenu dennage galge,” found at Buddama in the Uva Province. In an absorbing piece, he introduces readers to the various theories surrounding the images of humans, animals and birds found therein and what they say about the social interactions of the time. Although these engravings are largely undamaged by nature or human intervention right now, he insists that they be dated and safeguarded from potential threats.

TCJ has averaged about an article per issue on a female notable or on women’s concerns. Kanchanakesi Warnapala’s “Vanitha Viththi: A Pioneering Newspaper for Women” fulfils that role in the current number. After apprising readers of newspapers like Kulangana Handa which foreshadowed it, she proceeds to chart meticulously the evolution of this journal which initially championed women’s causes while not trying to offend men, through the time it became almost feminist in orientation until “film-related content and celebrity interviews began to dominate, producing a more stereotyped and fashionable model of womanhood.”

Vanitha Viththi

existed from 1957 to 1985. Through this beautifully illustrated article, we recognise that this newspaper existed during momentous changes in the island–the social upheaval of the 1950s, Sri Lanka producing the first the world’s first woman prime minister in the 1960s, the insurgency of 1971, the left-wing policies that shaped the island from 1970 to 1977 and the Open Economy that was created thereafter. It does not need any prompting from the author for the informed reader to conclude that the demise of the journal coincided with the Open Economy.

“[T]he leading critic, novelist, and litterateur of 20^th century Sri Lanka” is the subject of Uditha Devapriya’s contribution. What he finds unique in Martin Wickramasinghe is that he was of rural stock, unlike the modernist and other intellectuals whom he counted as his contemporaries, but not hidebound by tradition and custom. It is his independence of thought that enabled him to support the indigenous cultural revival while repudiating the binary stances of Christians vs Buddhists as espoused by Piyadasa Sirisena.

Devapriya can but skim through Wickramasinghe’s many achievements given the constraints of space. For instance, beyond stating that his “trilogy charts the descent of the southern Sinhalese feudal aristocracy and the rise of the colonial bourgeoisie,” he does not examine Wickramasinghe’s fiction at any great length. But the author should be credited for introducing the readership to Wickramasinghe’s multifaceted career as a novelist, journalist, essayist, and philosopher, a man who truly shaped 20^th century Sri Lanka in several ways.

Chryshane Mendis’s “The Archaeology of Lanka’s Early Urban Centres Part 2” is a follow up to his article which appeared in TCJ 2.1. Here, he focusses on how Tissamaharama and Kantarodai developed as urban centres.

Senewiratne’s second essay “An Analysis of Population Statistics in Sri Lanka from Ancient Times to the Portuguese Period” highlights the “creative” and patently inaccurate manner of gauging population size in the island’s ancient chronicles and by some colonial writers in discussing the same period. He then enunciates how “the drafting of “tombus” (registers of lands and revenue)” and other measures, such as baptismal registrations, led to more scientific methods being adopted in Portuguese times. Major inaccuracies (both willed and fortuitous) remained. The tendency of the Portuguese to exaggerate the number of “enemy” soldiers lost in battle being one such example.

A telling response to Michiel Baas’s “What’s ‘Dutch’ About the Dutch Burghers of Sri Lanka?” comes towards the end: “That the Netherlands was not even remotely considered a destination [on leaving the island in the 1940s and 50s] underlines that what it meant to be “Dutch” Burgher was all about being ‘like’ the British.” The essay traces the rise and fall of the status of those who came to the island from Holland—their involvements with the Kandyan kingdom, the Portuguese, and the British. While the community endeavoured to keep itself distinct from others by founding the Dutch Burgher Union and other protocols, ultimately these actions were carried out to assure the British rulers that they were on a par with them, actions that were rarely successful.

Until email began to make its presence in the 1980s, many Sri Lankans would correspond with friends, relatives and businesses abroad via airmail. The exquisitely illustrated “Birth of Air Mail in Ceylon: The Indian Influence” by Srilal Fernando charts the history of the service from its hazardous beginnings to later times when it became the norm for international communication.

“The Lost Temple: Tenavaram and the Hindu Heritage of Southern Sri Lanka” explores the way several faiths intertwined in ancient times and how vestiges of Hindu worship are still found in Buddhist temples. The essay is also a “reimagining” of the fabulous temple Tenavaram situated where Devinuwara exists now. The Portuguese looted the temple for its gold and other wealth and built a church atop it. A Buddhist temple is now located therein. Hasini Haputhanthri, the author, concludes: “Tenavaram, along with many Hindu temples of the south, never regained its former stature. Its fading from the mainstream historical imagination reflects not only colonial destruction but also post-colonial marginalisation.”

It is saddening to read an article on the building of railway tracks during colonial times after the cyclone in December destroyed many of the iconic railway lines built by the British. But Indrani Munasinghe’s “The Construction History of the Uda-Pussellawa Railway in Sri Lanka” takes us through the challenges the authorities faced in the process—the need to persuade the British government that the narrow gauge line was essential for the tea industry and the tough negotiations with various groups such as the military who demanded high compensation for the land they would lose being just two such issues.

Much space in “Buddhism in Candlelight” by Asoka Mendis de Zoysa is devoted to Herman Hesse’s visit to the Sri Dalada Maligawa under candlelight. The Nobel prize winner’s reaction to Kandy is not too different from that of another famous literary visitor, DH Lawrence, ten years later: “The relic’s casket failed to impress Hesse,” the necessity to give numerous tips irritated him, and his interactions with priests, as rendered in his own words, were “an inadequate dream and delirious state.” The positive contributions of other Germans to Buddhism in Sri Lanka are noted with respect. While apparently sharing Hesse’s view that Buddhism has become commodified in the celebrated temples, de Zoysa identifies other spaces that encourage the more contemplative side of Buddhism.

Anslem de Silva’s “Laki, Me, and the Floral Unicorn,” which is the last essay, is a somewhat whimsical piece in which de Silva details how he became friends with Laki Senanayake, a man who supported many in the fields of art, sculpture and architecture, and interacted with him vis their common interests.

I suggest that the editorial team casts it net wide and find new authors to submit articles. The presence of familiar names in consecutive issues guarantees top drawer research but could give the impression that TCJ is too dependent on a charmed circle. That said, kudos to Senewiratne and others for bringing out yet another exceptional volume.

(The reviewer is Professor Emeritus, Department of English, University of Peradeniya)

*Copies of this valuable periodical can be purchased by contacting 072 583 0728

Review by Senath Walter Perera

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Features

‘Lord Edgware Dies’

Published

3 hours ago

2026/09/11

Thilina Walpola

It has been some time since I read an Agatha Christie, the plot of which I cannot remember. So, I was delighted to find on the shelves of a friend Lord Edgware Dies, which I had a vague memory of, but no certainty about who had done it.

When I read it, I found that my memory of who was probably the killer was correct, but I could not be certain and the red herrings Christie threw in were so diverting that until almost the very end I wondered if I had been wrong.

The plot is very simple. Jane Wilkinson, who is married to Lord Edgware, tells him that she is desperate for a divorce since she is in love with a very proper Anglo-Catholic peer, Lord Melton, but Edgware refuses to divorce her. She asks Poirot to talk to him, which he does, and is surprised to find that Edgware has told Jane he is prepared to give her a divorce. This was, after he had categorically refused, through a letter, which Jane said she had not received.

That night Edgware is murdered, after Jane had been to see him, or so the butler said, and also Edgware’s secretary. But Jane had been that evening at a grand dinner many miles away, where a dozen fellow guests could swear to her presence.

There was a solution however to the mystery of two Jane Wilkinsons, namely a skilful impersonator called Carlotta Adams who, in the opening chapter had impersonated Jane Wilkinson, who had also been at the performance. But when Poirot goes to see her, he finds that she had been found dead on the morning after Edgware had been killed, of an overdose. And in her bag was a gold case, with a strange inscription, that contained the drug, along with a pair of pince-nez.

Her maid said she had written a letter to her sister in America and posted it the previous night. Poirot asks Inspector Japp to get the letter, and a transcript is received from America, and in it the name of Edgware’s nephew Ronald Marsh is mentioned; he had taken Carlotta to dinner after her performance, with which the book opens, and had then set her a challenge. Japp arrests Marsh, but Poirot is not happy and asks for the original of the letter, which the sister sends him. That shows that a page is missing, and the tear is obvious, though that raises the question as to why it had not simply been cut.

Matters are further complicated by the fact that Marsh had gone in a taxi to the Edgware house, along with Edgware’s daughter Geraldine, in the interval of an opera which had previously seemed to provide them with cast iron alibis. Geraldine had gone in to fetch her pearls so that Marsh could raise money he needed, and thus had an opportunity to kill Edgware, as did Marsh, for the driver said he had got out of the taxi while waiting and gone into the house.

Agatha Christie

Marsh explained why he had gone to the house on the night of the murder as having followed Bryan Martin, an American actor, who had been in love with Jane, whom he saw go into the house with a key. But there was no one visible when he entered, and Geraldine almost immediately came down and they left together. And Martin too has become an object of suspicion to Poirot, for he had been to see him before the murders were discovered with a story of being followed by a man with a gold tooth – a story Poirot immediately realized was false when he was asked how old the man was, and was told he was young, for young people did not have gold teeth.

A heap of French money Edgware had got for a trip to Paris was missing, but since Marsh had no need for it after his cousin’s offer of help, Poirot deduces that it must have been taken by the butler, who has disappeared. Christie has stressed that he is astonishingly handsome, unusual in a butler, and Poirot notes a resemblance to Martin, so he thinks the mysterious man going into the house must have been him.

Incidentally, later Poirot assumes that Edgware’s change of mind was because he was involved in some scandal, and I believe Christie intends us to see the cause of this in his handsome butler, though this is not specified.

Meanwhile, Poirot has asked Japp to find out the provenance of the case found in Carlotta’s handbag, and it turns out to have been made in Paris, specially commissioned, and collected by a woman with pince-nez.

But then another murder occurs—that of another guest at the grand dinner, which provided Jane with her alibi. The victim is an actor who had been bemused when Jane, at a lunch, thought the Judgment of Paris referred to the city. He told Hastings he wanted to see Poirot, but was killed before he could get to the appointment. Poirot had rushed there when told about his request, but it was too late.

Meanwhile, Poirot has tried out the pince-nez on Edgware’s secretary, but she could not see through these. It was only a chance remark heard outside the theatre that led him to try them out on Wilkinson’s maid Ellis, a spare pair that had been appropriated for the night of the murders.

Poirot then lays things out, having summoned Martin and told him that he probably suppressed Edgware’s letter, as he had been dropped by then and he did not want Jane to marry another. But after teasing Martin, Poirot says that Jane was in fact the murderer, and she got Carlotta to impersonate her at the dinner while she went to the house and killed her husband. After meeting Carlotta later and checking with her through a call that she had not been rumbled, Jane had gone ahead with the murder – she put veronal into her drink and the case with veronal into the handbag. She forgot to take out the pince-nez she had used earlier to imitate an American. Carlotta had registered as the American in a hotel and Jane had gone to see her, and there they exchanged identities. After seen the letter, she made use of it by tearing off the page that referred to her, and the S of She, so that the person who had challenged Carlotta to impersonate her seemed to be a man.

There is a coda in which Jane, condemned to death, writes to Hastings, still full of pride at her ingenuity hoping she will be remembered.

Features

Desilt reservoirs, learn from our ancient irrigation systems

Published

3 hours ago

2026/09/11

Thilina Walpola

Polgolla

by Prof. O. A. Ileperuma

Silting of reservoirs is a major problem today affecting our hydropower production and irrigation systems. The main Mahaweli reservoirs are silted to a considerable extent reducing the water holding capacity of them. Due to poor soil management practices, floodwaters deposit large amounts of silt in these reservoirs. When the Polgolla reservoir was fully drained about two years back, one could see mountains of silt in the lower reaches of the reservoir. A rough estimate is that 50% of the total capacity of these reservoirs has been lost to siltation. This is a serious issue which affects not only power and agriculture but also flood control.

Our ancient irrigation systems ensured that desilting of reservoirs took place under royal decree where all users of the reservoirs were ordered to carry out desilting of reservoirs during the dry season. The clay thus collected was used in making bricks for the construction of great stupas which dot the landscape of our ancient kingdoms. This ensured that the reservoirs had their full capacity filled with water for the next cultivating season. Our ancient kings were clever enough not to construct reservoirs by blocking main rivers such as the Mahaweli. A classic example is the Minipe left canal where they tapped only the surface water of Mahaweli. Even the bigger tanks such as Nuwara Wewa and Parakrama Samudraya were fed with minor rivulets. There were also other ingenious features in the cascade irrigation systems built by the ancient kings, such as mud sluice canals and forest reservations between the reservoirs in the cascade system. These reservations helped trap silt and remove excess nutrients, which could otherwise contribute to increasing salinity as water flowed from one reservoir to another.

: Parakrama Samudraya

: Kalawewa

: Kotmale

Victoria

Moragahakanda

A classic engineering marvel is the former Yoda Ela, which carries water from Kalawewa to Nuwara Wewa and Tissa Wewa. It is 87 km long although the straight distance between these points is only about 40 km. The gradient of this canal is about 10 cm per km or 6 inches per mile. Yodha Ela functions as a moving reservoir and feeds about 4,600 hectares of paddy lands. It is a winding canal with about 120 smaller reservoirs on its way. It was constructed during the reign of King Dhatusena around 459 AD and later expanded by King Parakramabahu by connecting more reservoirs to the network. Unfortunately, during the Mahaweli project our modern-day engineers constructed a concrete canal replacing the winding path of this Yoda Ela also called Jaya Ganga. This effectively removed the ability of the old Yoda Ela to remove silt and nutrients. The bank of this Ela has wet zone trees such as jak and areca nut growing well. They take up the nutrients from the flowing stream making the water suitable for irrigation later.

Ancient Mesopotamian civilisations depended on dams constructed along the two main rivers, Euphrates and Tigris. After continuous irrigation of their fields over several thousand years, salinity of the irrigated lands increased making them unsuitable for agriculture. People died due to famine and this clearly illustrates the danger of blocking main rivers for agriculture. There is scientific evidence that the salinity of paddy soils in the Mahaweli C area is increasing.

We saw the devastation caused by Cyclone Ditwah. The sluice gates of the Kotmale Reservoir were opened, and Kandy and Peradeniya were flooded. If the reservoir had had greater storage capacity, couldn’t the opening of the gates have been delayed? This may not be an argument that modern-day engineers would readily accept, and I am not an irrigation expert. These ideas may well be naïve. But most of us tend to think of reservoirs mainly in terms of hydropower generation and irrigation, while their role in flood control receives much less attention. The question therefore deserves serious consideration. Could restoring lost reservoir capacity through desilting help improve our ability to manage extreme rainfall and reduce flood risks?

Desilting our reservoirs should be considered a national priority.

Features

Losing out to Ethiopia

Published

3 hours ago

2026/09/11

Thilina Walpola

From Trailblazer to Tailender

Export diversification – Missing the wood for the trees – Part III

by Gomi Senadhira

In Sri Lanka, the word “Ethiopia” is often used as disparaging slang to describe individuals or areas experiencing extreme poverty, starvation, or severe economic hardship. This linguistic habit originated in the 1980s with the Western media coverage of the devastating Ethiopian famine of 1983-85. That media coverage shocked the world but also left an outdated and offensive global stereotype that the country is permanently starving. Much has changed since then. By now, with an annual growth rate of around 9%, it is the fastest-growing economy in sub-Saharan Africa. Ethiopia has also emerged as a highly competitive exporter and is challenging not only its competitors in the region but also countries like Sri Lanka. This article is on how Sri Lanka has lost ground to Ethiopia (and a few other countries) in the GCC markets for agricultural and floricultural products.

Sri Lanka – A Pioneer in the Agriculture and Floricultural Market in the GCC

As discussed in Part II of this article, by the mid-1980s Sri Lanka had established a strong foothold in the GCC’s fruit, vegetable, and floricultural market. Geographical proximity and well-established shipping and air links gave Sri Lanka a strong comparative advantage over Southeast Asian and African nations. Thailand, Vietnam, and Kenya were not even in the market. At that time, Ethiopia was experiencing (as BBC news reports described) “a biblical famine”.

The market was not very large, but it was lucrative and growing. Trade Minister Lalith Athulathmudali as well as the Chairman of the Export Development Board, Victor Santiapillai, who visited Kuwait (and the GCC countries), recognised the market potential for these products and encouraged us to continue with our work. The minister was particularly keen to further develop links between the market for these products, exporters, and his Export Production Villages (EPVs). So, it was becoming a successful case not only for export diversification but also for transferring gains from exports directly to rural households.

From Trailblazer to Tailender

As a result, even by the beginning of this century Sri Lanka had a larger market share than most of its competitors from Asia or Africa. But since then, our competitiveness has weakened significantly. The tables below provide a comparative snapshot of Sri Lanka’s performance vis-à-vis Thailand, Vietnam, Kenya and Ethiopia in the GCC market for vegetables, fruits and floricultural products. As illustrated therein, in 2001 Sri Lanka was ahead of Thailand, Kenya and Ethiopia in this small but rapidly growing market. Since then, we have fallen behind Thailand, Kenya and many other countries in that lucrative market. If this trend continues, Sri Lanka will fall behind Ethiopia within the next few years. (See Table 1)

In the GCC market for vegetables (covered in HS chapter 07), Sri Lanka was ahead of most other competitors in 2001. As illustrated in Table 1 , Sri Lanka had failed to develop this market, while Thailand, Kenya, and even Ethiopia had very efficiently increased their market shares. The GCC is a market to which Sri Lanka can supply some vegetables, like cabbages, by sea. It appears Sri Lanka had also failed to exploit this mode of supply.

We can see a similar trend in the market for fruits. Vietnam, Kenya, and Thailand have emerged as major players, while exports from Sri Lanka have staggered on slowly. In this segment, Vietnam has emerged as a leading player during the last twenty years and the GCC imports from Viet Nam have shot up from US$44 thousand in 2001 to US$346 million by 2024. In part one of these articles, I discussed the remarkable increase of jackfruit exports from Vietnam “…just $3 million in 2015 to an impressive $236.8 million in 2023” while most of our jackfruit production rots under the trees. This explains how countries develop their markets, geographically and product-wise. (See Table 2)

Sri Lanka’s performance has been weakest in the market for floricultural products (HS Chapter 06), which groups live trees, cut flowers, and ornamental foliage. When we first entered the market in the 1980s, the market was dominated by the Netherlands, and Kenya and Ethiopia were not even in the market. At that time, we identified the Gulf states as a market where Sri Lanka could have a dominant presence due to geographical proximity. Even in 2001, Sri Lanka was ahead of Kenya, Ethiopia, and Thailand. But by now, Kenya has emerged as the dominant supplier. Ethiopia is also expanding its market share and is the third-largest exporter. (See Table 3)

Missing the Wood for the Trees

In the mid-1980s, Sri Lanka first established its foothold in the GCC market. Since then, Thailand, Vietnam, Kenya, and even Ethiopia have moved well ahead of us and have become leading players. Why did we lag behind in our export diversification efforts in general and, more particularly, in the GCC market?

The reasons are very clear. After the initial attempts in the 1980s and early 1990s, Sri Lanka has not been proactively involved in identifying, developing, and promoting new products and markets, or protecting and further developing new markets already established. The focus has simply been on traditional exports: tea, coconut, cinnamon, and garments, while other products were almost ignored. In essence, we have been and continue to focus intensely on a narrow group of products and markets, and we have lost sight of the bigger picture.

(The writer can be reached at senadhiragomi@gmail.com)