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Ridi Vihare: A temple and a book

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Ridi Vihare: The Flowering of Kandyan Art
Dr. SinhaRaja Tammita-Delgoda
Stamford Lake Publications, 2006, pp. 210, Rs 3,750

Reviewed

by Uditha Devapriya

This is a fascinating study of one of the more fascinating Buddhist temples of Sri Lanka, authored by one of our foremost historians. The Ridi Vihare, or the ‘Silver Temple’, traces its history to the second century BC. It occupied a prominent place until the 14th century AD, when it disappeared from view. Three hundred years later, during the time of the Nayakkar kings of Kandy, it regained that position. What Dr. SinhaRaja Tammita-Delgoda attempts in his book is to explore its history and its art, viewing them not in isolation but in unison. The result is a superb work of scholarship, at once edifying and accessible.

Though written 15 years ago, before even the civil war ended, the scope and breadth of ‘Ridi Vihare: The Flowering of Kandyan Art’ resonates well even today. Partly, that is because Sri Lanka’s Buddhist temples have never become the object of study that religious institutions elsewhere have. This is certainly an unfortunate omission, a glaring one.

While the Sangha has been studied as an institution, most discernibly by Leslie Gunawardana, very few have tried to understand the social history of Buddhist temples. It is to the likes of Senake Bandaranayake that we owe our understanding of this aspect of our culture. The finest historian of art to come out of the country, Dr. Bandaranayake authored the finest work of scholarship on Buddhist art. Yet while ‘The Rock and Wall Paintings of Sri Lanka’ remains essential reading, it is a testament to where we are now and how we regard our past that since its publication, no comparable effort has come out.

Sinhala historians frequently do write monographs on these institutions, and many of them are available for cheap and even free, often at the very places their monographs are about. Yet while such efforts are laudable, they are hardly enough. To highlight the uniqueness of these places, it is necessary to dig deeper, to go beyond essays, to put the Buddhist temple of Sri Lanka in its proper historical context. Such an undertaking requires time and money, a sense of purpose, an overwhelming desire to probe.

It is that purpose and desire which colours Dr. Tammita-Delgoda’s outstanding work. It stands out not so much as a scholarly foray as a labour of love, an exploration into our past, who we are, and what we make of ourselves. Interspersed with photographs, diagrams, and illustrations, all painstakingly taken and meticulously captioned, the book doesn’t just focus on the temple, it uses it as the base from which to explore everything around it. As Dr. Siran Deraniyagala informs us in the introduction, Ridi Vihare offers no less than “a microcosm of Sri Lanka’s turbulent past.” This is a point the author engages with constantly.

How the book came about is as interesting as what it contains. Due to the high position it occupied in late mediaeval Sri Lanka, Ridi Vihare forged ties with Malwathu Maha Viharaya, one of the two Buddhist monastic chapters within the Siam Nikaya. Over the last 250 years, three of the Chief Incumbents of Ridi Vihare have wound up as Chief Prelates of Malwatta.

It was one of these Chief Prelates, Thibbotuwawe Sri Siddhartha Sumangala Thera, who took over the task of teaching “the religion, the philosophy and the customs of the Sinhalese” to the author. After his stint ended, Sumangala Thera requested his erstwhile student to write about the temple he was serving and officiating at the time. It was as a result of his request, and the author’s only too eager response, that this book came about.

Writing the book was not easy. Having begun in 1998, Dr. Tammita-Delgoda had to stop mid-way. The main problem was funding; not so much for travel or research as for photography. Desperately in need of money, and with no one to get it from, the entire project had to be stalled for several years. It was picked up again only through the intervention of a much loved icon: Sri Lanka’s most celebrated photographer, Nihal Fernando, who agreed to undertake its photography through his outfit, Studio Times, at no cost.

Thanks to Fernando’s support and the assistance of friends, patrons, and well-wishers, Dr. Tammita-Delgoda found himself digging deep into the history of the land. Having planned it as the story of a temple, his project soon became so much more.

The history of Ridi Vihare begins with “the greatest king of Anuradhapura”, Dutugemunu, in the second century BC. The Mahavamsa records Dutugemunu as the first of the Sinhalese kings who unified the country. Having achieved this task, he embarked on the construction of stupas, the last of which, the Mahathupa, became a huge undertaking. It was in reply to his prayer, that money be found for the Mahathupa, that silver was found at a cave called Ambattakola in Kurunegala. As a token of gratitude, Dutugemunu had a temple built by a jackfruit tree near that cave. It is here that the Varaka Velandhu Vihare, the oldest and perhaps most important establishment at Ridi Vihare, stands today.

As with all such institutions, the temple amply reflected its times. By the time of the Polonnaruwa kingdom, South Indian influences began making their way to the Ridi Vihare. We are told that a Hindu devale was constructed within the courtyard somewhere after the 12th Century. Though popular writers portray this as a period of decay and destruction, it was also a period of cultural fusion. Ridi Vihare did not escape such influences, in spite of the impoverished conditions of these years. It remained a centrepiece of the kingdom well into the 14th Century, though once the capital of the Sinhalese polity shifted from Wayamba to Kotte to Kanda Uda Rata it fell into much decay, decline, and disrepair.

The next chapter of Ridi Vihare unfolds at the time of the Kandyan kings, specifically the Nayakkars and particularly the reign of the second of them, Kirti Sri Rajasinghe. An ardent, passionate patron of Buddhism, Rajasinghe oversaw a period of renaissance marked by the resumption of the ordination of monks, a practice that had fallen into neglect for centuries. We are told of the political conditions prevalent at the time, the ambiguities that dotted the Nayakkars’ rule over an eminently Buddhist realm, and the rebellions against them aided by none less than the leading revivalist of his time, Weliwita Sri Saranankara Thera.

In the course of his reign Kirti Sri Rajasinghe brought Buddhist monasteries under the sway of Malwatta and Asgiriya. This had a profound impact on not just Ridi Vihare, but also the Sangha. It had much to do with the personality of the king himself.

As an outsider looking in, Rajasinghe had to show that he was the true heir to his Sinhalese predecessors. Though Leslie Gunawardana and Gananath Obeyesekere have suggested that opposition to Nayakkar rule was not as prevalent as popular writers make it out to be, there was opposition, and it was considerable. His motives were constantly under scrutiny by the radala aristocracy and clergy, and he needed to prove himself worthy in their eyes. To let go and belittle their concerns was to invite disenchantment and dissent.

It was against this backdrop that Kirti Sri Rajasinghe pursued a policy of detente and then confrontation with Dutch governors, while sponsoring efforts at purifying the Sangha and expelling foreign elements within his kingdom who had been indulged by his predecessors. Spilling over to the religious institutions of his realm, these efforts transformed Ridi Vihare into a leading centre of learning and study, in particular under Thibbotuwawe Sri Siddhartha Buddharakkitha Thera, the closest disciple of Weliwita Sri Saranankara Thera.

Partly due to his upcountry ancestry, Dr. Tammita-Delgoda is at his best in these chapters, when he is charting the social and artistic history of the last Sinhalese kingdom. Having read and researched his sources well, he goes beyond them, conjecturing about the reputation Ridi Vihare would have enjoyed under Buddharakkitha. He takes pains to emphasise that though Kandy was at war with the Dutch, this did not preclude contact between officials and Buddhist monks, a point that shows well in the Delft tiles at the Maha Vihara of Ridi Vihare. Long thought to be a gift from the Dutch Governor to the Vihare’s Chief Incumbent, these objects shed light on the nature of relations between Kandy and Holland.

From historicising Ridi Vihare, Dr. Tammita-Delgoda goes on to deconstruct its topography, periodising its construction from the pre-Christian era to the 20th Century. He then delves into the paintings and sculptures at the temple. With more than a connoisseur’s eye for the elegant and the sublime, he expresses much distaste for contemporary efforts at repairing the site, particularly the “hideous” restored vahalkada at its entrance. In exploring the inner courtyards and sanctums, he also attempts to reconstruct life as it would have been back in the day, especially through the use of archive images and illustrations.

There is clearly an art historian lurking beneath the historian, and in the chapters on the art and sculpture of Ridi Vihare Dr. Tammita-Delgoda lets him out. Not surprisingly, these make up some of the best forays into Kandyan art and architecture I have read.

Colonial officials and scholars often painted Kandy as a period of cultural decay, a pale reflection of the classical art that once prevailed in Anuradhapura and Polonnaruwa. Such generalisations were questioned, rightly, by the likes of Dr. Senake Bandaranayake and Siri Gunasinghe. Dr. Tammita-Delgoda continues their line of critique, unearthing Kandyan art for what it is and not for what it is often imagined to be. Its aim, he observes, was to appeal to devotees, not conform to European rules of perspective and representation.

Because of these insights, the sections on the paintings and sculptures of Ridi Vihare are the most edifying in the book. Even more edifying is the final chapter, a personal meditation on the nature of Sinhalese art. Dr. Tammita-Delgoda provocatively calls it the “art of the poor people”, as it indeed was. Reflecting on Ananda Coomaraswamy’s Mediaeval Sinhalese Art, he contends that the world around these temples shaped their architecture, differentiating them from the much larger monuments of Anuradhapura and Polonnaruwa.

Scholars may consider that a defect in Kandyan architecture, but it was a form shaped by the society around it and the privations imposed by colonialism. Hemmed in from all sides, Kandyan temples could not aspire to the gigantism of earlier periods. That they managed to attract devotion and patronage despite this is, in that sense, truly remarkable.

A book like this contains few flaws, indeed almost none at all. Its only limitation is its lack of focus on the material conditions of Kandyan society, the contributions of the people to the construction of these edifices, and the point that such institutions were as much the work of kings and monks as of the citizenry. Dr. Tammita-Delgoda does identify the painters of Ridi Vihare and their backgrounds, but all too often he implies that kings, aristocrats, and monks were all that mattered in 18th Century Kandy. What were the conjunctions of class and caste that produced these magnificent edifices? We clearly need to know more.

Nevertheless, as a labour of love and a token of gratitude to the monks who tutored the author, ‘Ridi Vihare: The Flowering of Kandyan Art’ remains a first-rate work, the first of many that would follow. What it shows us is a pathway to the past, a way of life which modernity has eroded. Seeing it, one can only quote Ananda Coomaraswamy.

“In the words of Blake,

‘When nations grow old,

The Arts grow cold,

And commerce settles on every tree’.

In such a grim fashion has commerce settled in the East.”

If we don’t make sense of our past, we are doomed to forget it. The result can only be a hideous reconfiguration and reconstruction of our identity, a distortion that bears little to no resemblance to who we once were. It is this point that Dr. SinhaRaja Tammita-Delgoda brings up, a point we would do well to acknowledge and to heed.

The writer can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com



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Another Christmas, Another Disaster, Another Recovery Mountain to Climb

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In line with its overall response to Cyclone Ditwah that devastated many parts of Sri Lanka, India has undertaken to set up temporary Bailey Bridges at selected locations. Work on the first such bridge has begun in Kilinochchi on the Paranthan–Karaichi–Mullaitivu A35 road. Indian Army engineers are working with their counterparts. The Indian HC said that 185 tonnes of Bailey Bridge units were airlifted to restore critical connectivity, along with 44 engineers (Pic courtesy IHC)

The 2004 Asian Tsunami erupted the day after Christmas. Like the Boxing Day Test Match in Brisbane, it was a boxing day bolt for Indonesia, Thailand, Sri Lanka, India and Maldives. Twenty one years later, in 2025, multiple Asian cyclones hit almost all the old victims and added a few more, including Malayasia, Vietnam and Cambodia. Indonesia and Sri Lanka were hit hard both times. Unlike the 2004 Tsunami, the 2025 cyclones made landfalls weeks before Christmas, during the Christian Season of Advent, the four-week period before Christmas preparing for the arrival of the Messiah. An ominously adventus manifestation of the nature’s fury.

Yet it was not the “day of wrath and doom impending … heaven and earth in ashes ending” – heavenly punishment for government lying, as an opposition politician ignorantly asserted. By that token, the gods must have opted to punish half a dozen other Asian countries for the NPP government’s lying in Sri Lanka. Or all those governments have been caught lying. Everyone is caught and punished for lying, except the world’s Commander in Chief for lying – Donald J. Trump. But as of late and none too sooner, President Trump is getting his punishment in spades. Who would have thought?

In fairness, even the Catholic Church has banished its old hymn of wrath (Dies irae, dies illa) that used to be sung at funerals from its current Missals; and it has on offer, many other hymns of peace and joy, especially befitting the Christmas season. Although this year’s Christmas comes after weeks of havoc caused by cyclonic storms and torrential rains, the spirit of the season, both in its religious and secular senses, will hopefully provide some solace for those still suffering and some optimism to everyone who is trying to uplift the country from its overflowing waterways and sliding slopes.

As the scale of devastation goes, no natural disaster likely will surpass the human fatalities that the 2004 Tsunami caused. But the spread and scale of this year’s cyclone destruction, especially the destruction of the island’s land-forms and its infrastructure assets, are, in my view, quite unprecedented. The scale of the disaster would finally seem to have sunk into the nation’s political skulls after a few weeks of cacophonic howlers – asking who knew and did what and when. The quest for instant solutions and the insistence that the government should somehow find them immediately are no longer as vehement and voluble as they were when they first emerged.

NBRO and Landslides

But there is understandable frustration and even fear all around, including among government ministers. To wit, the reported frustration of Agriculture Minister K.D. Lalkantha at the alleged inability of the National Building Research Organization (NBRO) to provide more specific directions in landslide warnings instead of issuing blanket ‘Level 3 Red Alerts’ covering whole administrative divisions in the Central Province, especially in the Kandy District. “We can’t relocate all 20 divisional secretariats” in the Kandy District, the Minister told the media a few weeks ago. His frustration is understandable, but expecting NBRO to provide political leaders with precise locations and certainty of landslides or no landslides is a tall ask and the task is fraught with many challenges.

In fairness to NBRO and its Engineers, their competence and their responses to the current calamity have been very impressive. It is not the fault of the NBRO that local disasters could not be prevented, and people could not be warned sufficiently in advance to evacuate and avoid being at the epicentre of landslides. The intensity of landslides this year is really a function of the intensity and persistence of rainfall this season, for the occurrence of landslides in Sri Lanka is very directly co-related to the amount of rainfall. The rainfall during this disaster season has been simply relentless.

Evacuation, the ready remedy, is easier said than socially and politically done. Minister Lal Kantha was exasperated at the prospect of evacuating whole divisional secretariats. This was after multiple landslides and the tragedies and disasters they caused. Imagine anybody seriously listening to NBRO’s pleas or warnings to evacuate before any drop of rainwater has fallen, not to mention a single landslide. Ignoring weather warnings is not peculiar to Sri Lanka, but a universal trait of social inertia.

I just lauded NBRO’s competence and expertise. That is because of the excellent database the NBRO professionals have compiled, delineating landslide zones and demarcating them based on their vulnerability for slope failure. They have also identified the main factors causing landslides, undertaken slope stabilization measures where feasible, and developed preventative and mitigative measures to deal with landslide occurrences.

The NBRO has been around since the 1980s, when its pioneers supplemented the work of Prof. Thurairajah at Peradeniya E’Fac in studying the Hantana hill slopes where the NHDA was undertaking a large housing scheme. As someone who was involved in the Hantana project, I have often thought that the initiation of the NBRO could be deemed one of the positive legacies of then Housing Ministry Secretary R. Paskaralingam.

Be that as it may, the NBRO it has been tracking and analyzing landslides in Sri Lanka for nearly three decades, and would seem to have come of age in landslides expertise with its work following 2016 Aranayake Landslide Disaster in the Kegalle District. Technically, the Aranayake disaster is a remarkable phenomenon and it is known as a “rain-induced rapid long-travelling landslide” (RRLL). In Kegalle the 2016 RRLL carried “a fluidized landslide mass over a distance of 2 km” and caused the death of 125 people. International technical collaboration following the disaster produced significant research work and the start of a five-year research project (from 2020) in partnership with the International Consortium on Landslides (ICL). The main purpose of the project is to improve on the early warning systems that NBRO has been developing and using since 2007.

Sri Lankan landslides are rain induced and occur in hilly and mountainous areas where there is rapid weathering of rock into surface soil deposits. Landslide locations are invariably in the wet zone of the country, in 13 districts, in six provinces (viz., the Central, Sabaragamuwa, Uva, Northwestern, Western and Southern, provinces). The Figure below (from NBRO’s literature) shows the number of landslides and fatalities every year between 2003 and 2021.

Based on the graphics shown, there would have been about 5,000 landslides and slope failures with nearly 1,000 deaths over 19 years between 2003 and 2021. Every year there was some landslide or slope failure activity. One notable feature is that there have been more deaths with fewer landslides and vice-versa in particular years. In 2018, there were no deaths when the highest number (1,250) of landslides and slope failures occurred that year. Although the largest number in an year, the landslides in 2018 could have been minor and occurred in unpopulated areas. The reasons for more deaths in, say, 2016 (150) or 2017 (250+), could be their location, population density and the severity of specific landslides.

NBRO’s landslide early warning system is based on three components: (1) Predicting rainfall intensity and monitoring water pressure build up in landslide areas; (2) Monitoring and observing signs of soil movement and slope instability in vulnerable areas; and (3) Communicating landslide risk level and appropriate warning to civil authorities and the local public. The general warnings to Watch (Yellow), be Alert (Brown), or Evacuate (Red) are respectively based on the anticipated rainfall intensities, viz., 75 mm/day, 100 mm/day; and 150 mm/day or 100 mm/hr. My understanding is that over the years, NBRO has established its local presence in vulnerable areas to better communicate with the local population the risk levels and timely action.

Besides Landslides

This year, the rain has been relentless with short-term intensities often exceeding the once per 100-year rainfall. This is now a fact of life in the era of climate change. Added to this was cyclone Ditwah and its unique meteorology and trajectory – from south to north rather than northeast to southwest. The cyclone started with a disturbance southwest of Sri Lanka in the Arabian Sea, traversed around the southern coast from west to east to southeast in the Bay of Bengal, and then cut a wide swath from south to north through the entire easterly half of the island. The origin and the trajectory of the cyclone are also attributed to climate change and changes in the Arabian Sea. The upshot again is unpredictability.

Besides landslides, the rainfall this season has inundated and impacted practically every watershed in the country, literally sweeping away roads, bridges, tanks, canals, and small dams in their hundreds or several hundreds. The longitudinal sinking of the Colombo-Kandy Road in the Kadugannawa area seems quite unparalleled and this may not be the only location that such a shearing may have occurred. The damages are so extensive and it is beyond Sri Lanka’s capacity, and the single-term capacity of any government, to undertake systematic rebuilding of the damaged and washed-off infrastructure.

The government has its work cutout at least in three areas of immediate restoration and long term prevention. On landslides warning, it would seem NBRO has the technical capacity to do what it needs to do, and what seems to be missing is a system of multi-pronged and continuous engagement between the technical experts, on the one hand, and the political and administrative powers as well as local population and institutions, on the other. Such an arrangement is warranted because the landslide problem is severe, significant and it not going to go away now or ever.

Such an engagement will also provide for the technical awareness of the problem, its mitigation and the prevention of serious fallouts. A restructuring could start from the assignment of ministerial responsibilities, and giving NBRO experts constant presence at the highest level of decision making. The engagement should extend down the pyramid to involve every level of administration, including schools and civil society organizations at the local level.

As for external resources, several Asian countries, with India being the closest, are already engaged in multiple ways. It is up to the government to co-ordinate and deploy these friendly resources for maximum results. Sri Lanka is already teamed with India for meteorological monitoring and forecasting, and with Japan for landslide research and studies. These collaborations will obviously continue but they should be focused to fill gaps in climate predictions, and to enhance local level monitoring and prevention of landslides.

To deal with the restoration of the damaged infrastructure in multiple watershed areas, the government may want to revisit the Accelerated Mahaweli Scheme for an approach to deal with the current crisis. The genesis and implementation of that scheme involved as many flaws as it produced benefits, but what might be relevant here is to approach the different countries who were involved in funding and building the different Mahaweli headworks and downstream projects. Australia, Britain, Canada, China, Italy, Japan, Sweden and Germany are some of the countries that were involved in the old Mahaweli projects. They could be approached for technical and financial assistance to restore the damaged infrastructure pieces in the respective watershed areas where these countries were involved.

by Rajan Philips ✍️

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Feeling sad and blue?

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Rowan Atkinson

Here is what you can do!

Comedy and the ability to have a good laugh are what keep us sane. The good news to announce is that there are many British and American comedy shows posted up and available on the internet.

They will bring a few hours of welcome relief from our present doldrums.

Firstly, and in a class of its own, are the many Benny Hill shows. Benny is a British comedian who comes from a circus family, and was brought up in an atmosphere of circus clowning. Each show is carefully polished and rehearsed to get the comedy across and understood successfully. These clips have the most beautiful stage props and settings with suitable, amusing costumes. This is really good comedy for the mature, older viewer.

Benny Hill has produced shows that are “Master-Class” in quality adult entertainment. All his shows are good.

Then comes the “Not the Nine o’clock news” with Rowan Atkinson and his comedy team producing good entertainment suitable for all.

And then comes the “Two Ronnies” – Ronnie Barker and Ronnie Corbett, with their dry sense of humour and wit. Search and you will find other uplifting shows such as Dave Allen, with his monologues and humour.

All these shows have been broadcast in Britain over the last 50 years and are well worth viewing on the Internet.

Similarly, in The USA of America. There are some really great entertainment shows. And never forget Fats Waller in the film “Stormy Weather,” where he was the pianist in the unforgettable, epic, comedy song “Ain’t Misbehavin”. And then there is “Bewitched” with young and glamorous Samantha Stevens and her mother, Endora who can perform magic. It is amazing entertainment! This show, although from the 1970s was a milestone in US light entertainment, along with many more.

And do not overlook Charlie Chaplin and Laurel and Hardy, and all the Disney films. Donald Duck gives us a great wealth of simple comedy.

The US offers you a mountain of comedy and good humour on Youtube. All these shows await you, just by accessing the Internet! The internet channel, ‘You tube’ itself, comes from America! The Americans reach out to you with good, happy things right into your own living room!

Those few people with the ability to understand English have the key to a great- great storehouse of uplifting humour and entertainment. They are rich indeed!

by Priyantha Hettige

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Lalith A’s main enemy was lack of time and he battled it persistently

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Athulathmudali

Presidential Mobile Service at Matara amid JVP terror

Like most Ministers, Mr. Athulathmudali over programmed himself. In this respect his was an extreme case. He was an early riser and after his morning walk and the usual routines of a morning, was ready for business by 6.30 a.m. In fact he once shocked an IMF delegation by fixing the appointment with it at this hour. The delegation had to be persuaded that they had heard right, and that the appointment was indeed for 6.30 a.m. and not 6.30 p.m. This desire to get through much as possible during a day inevitably led to certain imbalances. Certain matters which needed more time did not get that time, whilst at the level of officials, we felt that we needed more time with him, and quality time at that.

I had spoken to him several times on this subject. He always had good intentions and wanted to give us more time. But with his political, social and even intellectual responsibilities in regard to speaking engagements of a highly professional nature, it was not often possible to find this time. This situation was highlighted in a comic way, when one day on hearing that the minister had arrived in office for a short time, I grabbed some important papers which I wanted to discuss with him, and made for his room. When I entered, I found three officers, with files in their hands milling outside the door of the washroom. The minister was inside.

I suggested that we might as well form a queue outside the door, a queue which I also joined. An official who came after me also joined the queue. When the minister opened the door, to his great astonishment, and then to his amusement, he found five senior officials, including his Secretary lined up outside the bathroom door! It was funny and we made it funny. But the underlying intentions were quite serious, and we wanted to send him a message that we wanted more time with him. We had to however grab moments such as these in order to keep the flow of work going.One day he good humouredly said, “You all swamp me as I come in,” to which I lightly replied “As a distinguished lawyer you should know that possession is nine-tenths of the law, and now we are in possession of both your room and your attention.” Mr. Athulathmudali chuckled.

An important requirement under Mr. Athulathmudali was a report that had to be submitted to him if any official under his Ministry went abroad on official business. The report had to be reasonably brief, more analytical than descriptive and wherever possible or relevant contain specific recommendations in regard to the betterment of the officer’s area of work. Since the Ministry was quite large, a considerable number of officials went abroad for seminars, study tours, research collaboration, conferences, negotiations and so on. There were, therefore a significant number of reports coming to him. Many of these he read, and on some, he commented or asked questions or sought clarifications. What amazed us was how he found the time. His main enemy was time and he battled it with persistence and determination. Most of us were also in a similar position, and in this, his powerful example was a source of encouragement.

Duties not quite pleasant

As mentioned in several places in these memoirs, a senior public servant’s or a Secretary’s job is not always a pleasant one. At the level of the hierarchy of officials the buck stops with you. Thereafter, when necessary, battling the minister becomes your business. I used to insist to my officials that I needed a good brief. I was not prepared to go and start an argument with a minister unless I was in possession of the full facts. Interpretation was my business. But I needed verifiable facts and authentic figures. Officers who worked with me were soon trained to comply with these requirements. After that was done, if there was any flak, it was my business to take it upon myself. On one such occasion, I had to speak rather firmly to the acting Minister, Mr. G.M. Premachandra. He was young, energetic and even aggressive and was somewhat of a “stormy petrel.” He was an effective speaker in the Sinhala e and could be a formidable debater.

When he became State Minister for Food, he took it upon himself to probe everything. He started getting involved in administrative matters, the implications of which he did not understand, and the details of which he had no time for. During the course of these he not only started criticizing officials liberally, but also employed innuendo to suggest that they were corrupt. When interested parties got to know this, they fed him with halftruths and sometimes plain lies. This naturally confirmed the suspicions in his own mind. He blindly felt around and got hold of some tail and thought that was the elephant. The State Secretary, Mr. Sapukotana, an experienced and balanced official tried his best to advice the minister of the consequences of his actions.

Senior officials in the Food Department were being kept off balance much of the time. Paralysis as creeping into the decision making process. No one was taking decisions because taking decisions risked misinterpretation, suspicion and innuendo. The Deputies were pushing papers up to the Food Commissioner, and soon the Food Commissioner was pushing papers up to the State Secretary. Matters were getting really serious, because delays in calling for and deciding on tenders, attending to commercial disputes and so on were bound to have a serious effect on the availability of timely food supplies, and the maintaining of food security.

Mr. Sapukotana kept me informed from time to time of the developing situation. He tried his best to handle it without disturbing me. But it gradually came to a point that we were both of the view that my intervention was necessary. I took an opportunity that presented itself after a “mini cabinet” meeting which Mr. Premachandra chaired as Acting Minister. I asked him whether he would stay back for a moment. His Secretary seemed embarrassed to stay, but I asked him also to sit. Thereafter, I politely but firmly explained to the minister, the consequences of his actions.

I asked him whether he was aware that nobody was prepared to take a decision in the food sector. I pointed out that should disaster strike, Minister Athulathmudali would certainly ask him for an explanation. I told him further, that in such a contingency, that we as officials will have to tell the truth to the minister. The acting minister listened in silence. I wondered as to what forces of counter attack were gathering in his breast. He did not have the reputation of bowing meekly to a challenge and here I was calling into question his entire approach to his work.

Ultimately when he spoke, he said something that we least expected and which took us completely by surprise. He said that he listened carefully to me; he said that until now he had not realized the gravity of the situation that his actions were precipitating. Then to my great astonishment he said: “You have given me advice like a parent, like a father. Even parents don’t always give such good advice. I will act according to your advice.” Mr. Sapukotana and I were rendered speechless. This was one more of the many experiences I had in public service, where the totally unexpected had occurred.

Through my experience I have been convinced that one should not shirk one’s duty to advice ministers. This duty has to be performed in the public interest and one should not be deterred by possible consequences. However, there is a way and manner of giving this advice. One has to be polite. One should not adopt a confrontational attitude. In my experience, some of these “consequences” which people fear are more imagined than real, and ministers and politicians do not always act according to their perceived public characteristics. On this occasion Mr. Premachandra was a case in point.

Presidential Mobile Service – Matara

The second Presidential Mobile Service was to be held at Matara on November 3, 1989. This was a time of intense JVP activity when the country was gripped by fear. The decision to hold the service in Matara in the deep south was it a sense a challenge to the JVP. Rumours were rife that they would disrupt activities. We were to leave during the early morning of Nov. 3 and this itself was scary. In fact the country had reached a stage where there was very little traffic on the roads after about 9 p.m. We had now to leave for Matara to face an unknown situation leaving home around 4.30 in the morning.

When we left, we noticed that there was hardly any traffic on the roads. All around was in pitch darkness. Even some of the street lights were not functioning. It was quite eerie. We made our way past numerous check points at a couple of which we were stopped.

All this was not a comfortable experience. One felt apprehension. I was booked at the Weligama rest house but when I reached it I found that the power had been disrupted by the JVP during the previous night. We would have to be without lights or fans. But what was far worse was that the disruption of power had affected the pumping of water and the toilets could not be flushed.

The rest house was in short uninhabitable. The authorities there informed us that power would be restored by evening. But none of us had confidence that this would be done or if done, that it would not be disrupted again during the night. Some of us therefore decided to make alternative arrangements, which were not easy to make. Most of the hotels in the vicinity of Matara and even somewhat beyond had already been booked. Eventually, after a diligent search and with the assistance of friends, I found myself a room at Koggala Beach hotel.

This was an immense relief. In fact, it turned out to be much more than mere relief because of the interesting crowd of public servants in occupation. They were a jolly group of story tellers who had a variety of the most hilarious anecdotes to retail, which spared no one. When we reached the hotel at the end of a tiring day, we were able to forget the grim reality outside. Perhaps we really needed to laugh our cares away. Most of us had been subjected to considerable strain for a significant period of time.

At the mobile service itself in the Rahula College premises where the service was held was almost completely deserted on the first day. People were afraid to defy a JVP ban on attending. On the second day however the dam burst. People flocked in from all quarters and directions jamming the space and facilities available. Long queues formed outside areas allocated to all Ministries. The people themselves had suffered due to the disruption of their lives and activities, and when some relief seemed available, one day was all they could contain themselves however dire the threat. They voted with their feet.

On that second day we couldn’t finish at 5 p.m. There were so many people that hours were extended till 6.30 p.m. By the time we got back to our hotels, it was well past 8 p.m. Usually, the third day of the service was a half day, where we finished by 1 p.m., had lunch and started for home. But because of the lost first day and the crowds, the third day was extended to 5 p.m. But that was the official time. Many of us were stuck till about 7 p.m. We did not want to abandon the people still in the queue and who were now looking pretty desperate that they would not be attended to. They had suffered much. This meant once again traveling in the dark, this time to get home.

(Excerpted from In Pursuit of Governance, autobiography of MDD Peiris)

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