Features

Garuwa tells us how he lost his arm to a bear and more tales from Kumana

Published

4 years ago

2022/01/16

Sahan Weerasooriya

(Continued from last week)

by Walter R. Gooneratne

Now it was story-time. Unlike the garrulous Wasthua, Garuwa was a quiet and retiring person and a man of few words. However, under the influence of that extra quota of alcohol, his tongue loosened up and he related his adventure with the bear which ultimately ended with the amputation of his left arm.

One evening, while returning from the tank, a she bear had joined the track about a hundred yards ahead of him. Since the bear was up-wind of him, he did not bother very much as he knew the animal would leave the track sooner or later. Anyway, he was sufficiently in the lead to take evasive action should it decide to turn back. He had met many a bear before and had not much respect for its sagacity or intelligence. Suddenly, there was a loud growl behind him, when a huge male bear standing on its hind legs charged into him with mouth open and fangs bared. He had put up his forearm to defend his face and yelled at it as loud as he could. However, this had very little effect, for the bear had bitten his forearm. He remembered with a shudder the awful stench of its breath.

The bear had probably spotted the female which was in heat, and he had followed her scent. Perhaps he mistook Garuwa for a rival and attacked him, but when he realized his mistake he had left him alone and gone after his lover. Garuwa was now bleeding profusely. He had taken off his shirt and bandaged his injured forearm with it. By the time he reached the main track to the village, he had felt quite dizzy with the loss of blood and the throbbing pain, which made him sit down.

Fortunately, some people were returning to the village from Yakala Kalapuwa and they carried him home. He was delirious and semi-conscious throughout the night and was not aware of the damage to his arm. The next morning, his friends had made an improvised stretcher and carried him to Panama, from where he was transferred to the Batticaloa Hospital, where his arm was amputated. That part of the journey had been plain hell, specially the bumpy ride.

Early next morning we broke camp, and having rewarded our new-found friends, bade them adieu. While returning to Kandy, I was driving most of the day, and therefore shortly after passing Polonnaruwa, Ivor offered to take the wheel. Then a short while later, Ivor had dozed off and in consequence the jeep ran off the road. Fortunately, it was flat open country and Ivor managed to stop it in time. The ladies insisted that I drive the rest of the way. We landed in Kandy late at night without further incident.

Kumana again and again

Since then I have been to Kumana seven times more. As it would be too long to describe all of these journeys in detail, I shall describe only the highlights of each.

On the next trip our party consisted of Dr H R Wickremesinghe, Mr. and Mrs.Simon Gunewardene, my wife, Nirmalene and myself. We left Ragama (where I was stationed then) at 3 am in Simon’s jeep and reached the office of the Wildlife Department at Okanda at about 2 pm. There, for the first time I saw the neat cup-shaped nest of the fantailed flycatcher. Our old faithfuls, Garuwa and Wasthuwa were waiting for us and we did not waste any time, but drove on to the Kumbukan Oya camp-site.

It was dry season and the river was low. A lone elephant was quenching his thirst at this spot, but fortunately ran away at our approach. Late that night another elephant had come to drink, and being disturbed by our campfire, had created quite a rumpus, but had moved away due to Wasthua’s charms, as he claimed. Having driven the whole day, I was dead to the world and had slept through all the noise.

Leopard pugmarks were everywhere. That evening Simon shot a spotted deer stag near Yakala Kalapuwa. The two hind limbs were cut off and loaded into the jeep for our consumption. and the rest of the carcass was dragged to the spot where Ivor shot his leopard. It was tethered there as leopard bait. That evening. the leopard came to the bait and was shot by Simon. When I saw what we had done to such a graceful and beautiful creation of nature, just to bolster man’s pride, I decided never to shoot a leopard again.

The highlight of the trip took place that afternoon. We decided to have our evening bath at Galamuna, higher up the river. Here the water cascading down the mini-rapid was most soothing and relaxing. A short while later, a lone cow elephant came silently out of the jungle, just about twenty yards above where we were. She stood there for a while, testing the air for signs of danger, and as if by an invisible signal that all was well, a herd of elephants trooped down to the river. There were eighteen of them of various sizes and ages. All of them were females, except for two young males.

There were two little babies, one of which could not have been more than two or three years of age. The old matriarch, who first came to the river, was apparently its mother, as she nestled it between her legs and walked down to the river. Garuwa assured us that as we were downwind of them. there was no danger as long as we stayed quiet and did not move about too much. It was such a heartwarming and wonderful sight. The creatures soon lay down in the cool, rushing water and showered themselves with fountains of water, while the babies frolicked about under the watchful eye of their mothers and aunts.

Suddenly two of the teenagers decided to play “catch me if you can” and one of them made a dash in our direction, hotly pursued by her playmate. However, much to our relief, they soon wheeled around and dashed away in the opposite direction. Having had enough, they entwined their trunks, whispered a few sweet nothings in each other’s ears and again settled down to the mundane business of cleansing themselves. After about twenty minutes, the matriarch stood up, scented the wind and slowly re-entered the jungle, followed by the rest of the herd.

Angler’s dream

The next visit was about a year later in the company of Dr. Mackie Ratwatte, Dr. Anian Perera and his nephew, who later became a Catholic priest. Game Ranger Peter Jayawardene accompanied us as our guest in camp.

This trip was an angler’s dream. Peter being a keen and expert angler, we decided to go fishing in the estuary of Kumbukkan Oya. Peter made his own lures. It was mainly because he could not afford to buy commercial ones, but pretended his were superior. He was soon proved to be correct. Peter produced a handcrafted lure painted in red and white, which he called the” Red devil”.

Anian had no experience of angling, and when he saw our equipment, he laughed at us saying that we would be sadly mistaken if we thought fish would fall for our artificial lures. Soon he would think otherwise.

The sky was overcast and there was a slight blowing. I cast the “Red devil” and at the second cast had a strike. Anian scornfully said I had snagged a rock. However, the “rock” soon peeled off the line from my reel, an event which soon provoked a paean of delight. At the first pull, the fish had emptied a good part of my well-oiled reel before he stopped for a breather. Soon the line was being stripped off again in brief runs. I dared not put too much break as I was using light line. Expert Peter predicted that I had something very big, and by the initial run, it should be a paraw or travelly. The duel continued for some time with me retrieving some line, interrupted by short bursts of activity by my adversary. Then we saw him framed against a breaker, a huge tholbari paraw swaying his broad shoulders in order to dislodge the lure. After further fights, he came in gamely, being finally carried ashore by a low wave. It was massive and weighed forty four pounds!

Since the fish were still feeding, we continued to cast. With almost every cast we had a strike. The final catch was an eight pound koduwa or estuary perch and seven of kalava or threadfin, each weighing between four and eight pounds.

Anian, who scoffed at us at the beginning, wanted me to allow him a few casts. I warned him that bait-casting needed a lot of skill and practice, but he assured me that having watched me, he knew the technique. I knew that he would end up in a backlash, but to humour him I gave him the rod and reel. Anyway, Peter was an expert at unraveling the toughest backlashes. With the first cast, he ended up with the mother of all backlashes. Even Peter’s expertise was to no avail. Anian was most apologetic.

However, as we had enough fish we called it a day. Back in camp, we had to dismantle the reel to untangle the mess. Garuwa and Wasthua were gifted a kalai each to take to their families. That night we had a delicious curry of the paraw and koduwa heads turned out by Kadisara. The rest of the fish was with Peter’s expertise, either dried or made into jadi, which was a preparation cured with salt. The rest of the trip was uneventful.

Kumana in the rain

The next foray was in 1966. It was a huge party consisting of Simon Gunewardene and wife, my dear friends, Dr. and Mrs Chandra Amerasinghe and their children, Pervey Lawrence, my nephew Mohan Gooneratne, my brother Lionel and my family. There was torrential rain all the way and we were benighted at Lahugala. Fortunately, Peter had been transferred as game ranger there and he managed to find accommodation for us in the village school.

Next morning the road to Kumana was a quagmire. Bagura Ara, the stream that runs across Bagura plains, was in spate and we managed to cross it with some difficulty. Fortunately, Dr. K.G. Jayasekera and his party were camping at Bagura and they lent a hand to get the vehicles across. That night the rain came down again in sheets, accompanied by lightning and thunder. The water came through the camp in roaring torrents. Sleep was impossible. My wife carried the children into our jeep, while most of the others just shivered till dawn, by which time the rain had ceased.

Most of the next day was spent drying up the camp. Fortunately there was no further rain for the rest of our stay. In the evening we went down to the villu for bird watching. We met a large leopard close to the villu, but it took fright and bolted away. That evening, Lyn de Alwis and his party arrived and camped at the site higher up on the banks of Kumbukkan Oya. He very kindly invited us to his camp for cocktails.

Next morning Garuwa suggested that we go to Lenama in search of rathu walasu or red bears. On the way, Wasthua suggested that we inspect a water-hole called Kiri Pokuna, as it was a favourite watering place for many wild animals. The track was narrow, and having alighted from the vehicles, we walked along it in single file. Pervey went ahead with the trackers, while the others trailed behind. Chandra and I brought up the rear. Suddenly there was pandemonium and the whole crowd came running back, followed shortly after by the report from Pervey’s rifle. It transpired that as the crowd approached the bund of the water-hole, a huge wild buffalo had come crashing down over the bund along the path they were on.

At Pervy’s shot (fired into the air), the animal had veered to the left and crashed into the jungle. What probably had happened was that on hearing of our approach, the animal had tried to escape along the path he was familiar with and almost collided with us, but was turned away by the noise of Pervy’s rifle fire. Further progress to Lenama was impossible due to the state of the track after the recent rains.

That evening we went fishing to the estuary of Kumbukan Oya. Dr. Jayasekera and his party were also there, but none of us had any luck, due mainly to the river being in spate. However, we were rewarded with the spectacle of a brilliantly coloured sunset.

Further trips to Kumana

Some time later my cousin Lyn de Alwis very kindly invited me to join him on an expedition to Kumana in order to capture animals for the zoo. The team included some staff of the zoo, as well as Lyn’s brother Gerald, and my son Naomal. We camped again by Kumbukkan Oya, but our old trackers, Garuwa and Wasthua had by that time passed away and we sorely missed them.

It was nesting season in the villu and most of the time was spent capturing viable, but fledgling birds. They were mostly painted stork, spoonbills, openbills, spot-billed pelicans, cormorants and whistling teal. A large number of serpents, including pythons, Russell’s vipers and cobras, was also taken with amazing ease and dexterity by the staff of the zoo.

In the next two visits, we occupied the bungalow, which was on a most beautiful location overlooking a small lake. On the first occasion, we had booked the Okanda bungalow, but the trees around it were alive with numerous hairy caterpillars. However Lyn de Alwis, who was occupying the Thunmulla bungalow, very kindly offered it to us, and decided to camp out on the bank of Kumbukkan Oya.

The highlight of this trip was a furious elephant charge. At the time my wife, after collecting driftwood on the beach for her flower arrangements near Iticala Kalapuwa, had just got into the jeep, when a huge lone elephant made a furious charge from a nearby thicket. My son Romesh, who was at the wheel, was about to start off, but hearing the charge, he had the presence of mind to switch off the engine. The three of us, namely Romesh, the tracker and myself yelled at it in unison. The charge was so determined that I thought he would not be able to stop in time. However, he skidded to a stop within a few feet of us and walked away, grumbling all the while. Had we delayed a few more minutes in switching off the engine, he would have been on us with disastrous results.

However we were rewarded that evening with the sight of a large healthy leopard traversing the road behind the bungalow. It looked contemptuously at us over its shoulder and continued to walk along the track till it was out of sight round the bend of the road. We let it go its way in peace.

The next trip was in 1983, shortly after the riots. Our party consisted of Mr. John Guyer of the Asia Foundation and his wife, Mr. Fred Malvenna, my son Romesh and myself. We left Colombo at midnight in Fred’s jeep and arrived at Pottuvil at early dawn. On this occasion too we occupied the Thummulla bungalow. The villu was completely dry with crazy zigzag cracks on its surface. A lone elephant was in it, knee deep in mud, feeding on the dried up lotus leaves and yams.

In this trip none was interested in hunting, but we made many forays into the jungle to watch and observe animals. Though no leopards were seen, their tracks were everywhere. Several elephants, in singles, twos and threes, were seen. Large herds of spotted deer were a common sight. While bathing in Kumbukkan Oya at Galamuna one morning, we saw two saw-toothed sharks, each about three feet long, cruising in the river above the rocky dam.

On December 27, 2002, we made a trip again to Kumana. It was a large party traveling in four vehicles. To Chris Uragoda and a few of us who had seen Kumana in its heyday, the desolation and destruction were saddening indeed. There were hardly any tracks. Bagura plain was bare and devoid of its once famous herds of deer. Gone were all the life-giving mangroves in the villu, which was a naked sheet of water without a bird to adorn its shining surface. There was evidence of felling of trees at many places. It is imperative that the Department of Wildlife Conservation should take immediate steps to bring it back to its former splendour before it is lost forever.

(Concluded)

(Excerpted from Jungle Journeys in Sri Lanka edited by CG Uragoda)

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Features

Power crept into the Sangha and is now tearing it apart

Published

19 hours ago

2026/06/5

Thilina Walpola

A file photo of Buddhist monks engaged in a protest

For more than a century, Sri Lankan society has lived with a quiet contradiction at the heart of its religious life. On the one hand, the Buddhist monk is revered as the embodiment of moral discipline, selfrestraint, and renunciation. On the other, the modern monk has become a public figure, political actor, administrator, media personality, and in some cases power broker whose influence extends far beyond the temple. This contradiction has been tolerated, even celebrated, for decades. But recent events, most notably a widely publicised case involving a senior monk accused of grave moral misconduct, have forced the country to confront a painful truth: the institutional conditions that make such scandals possible are not new. They are the predictable outcome of a long historical process that H. L. Seneviratne described with remarkable clarity in The Work of Kings. The moral deterioration visible today is not an aberration. It is the culmination of a centurylong transformation in the identity, function, and authority of the Sangha.

To understand how we arrived at this moment, it is necessary to revisit the argument Seneviratne made nearly three decades ago. His thesis was simple but profound: the modern Sri Lankan monkhood has taken on the ‘work of kings.’ By this he meant that monks, instead of confining themselves to the renunciant life prescribed by the Vinaya, have assumed the secular responsibilities once associated with precolonial kingship, such as protecting the religion, organising society, guiding the nation, and enforcing moral order. This shift, he argued, was not a natural evolution of Buddhist tradition but a modern invention shaped by colonialism, nationalism, and the anxieties of a society struggling to redefine itself in the face of foreign domination. The monk became a symbol of national identity, a guardian of cultural authenticity, and a leader in the struggle for political autonomy. In the process, the boundaries that once separated the monastic from the worldly began to dissolve.

Transformation

The consequences of this transformation were not immediately visible. For decades, the activist monk was celebrated as a patriot, a reformer, and a moral guide. His involvement in education, social welfare, and nationalist mobilisation was seen as a necessary response to colonial pressures and missionary competition. But beneath the surface, the foundations of monastic discipline were slowly eroding. The Vinaya, which had served for centuries as a rigorous framework for regulating monastic life, was increasingly overshadowed by the demands of public engagement. The communal structures that once ensured accountability, senior supervision, collective confession, and the daily rhythms of monastic routine, were weakened by the pressures of modernity. Monks who travelled constantly, managed institutions, or lived independently in urban temples found themselves outside the traditional systems of oversight that had long protected the integrity of the Sangha.

Scandal

It is within this historical context that the recent scandal must be understood. The case shocked the nation not only because of the severity of the allegations but because it shattered the public’s assumption that the monkhood remains a bastion of moral purity. Yet the shock itself reveals a collective denial. For years, Sri Lankan society has been aware, sometimes quietly, sometimes openly—of the growing gap between the ideal of the monk and the realities of modern monastic life. Stories of misconduct, financial irregularities, political manipulation, and abuse of authority have circulated with increasing frequency. But each incident has been treated as an isolated failure, a personal weakness, or an unfortunate exception. What has been missing is recognition that these incidents are symptoms of a deeper structural problem.

Seneviratne’s analysis helps illuminate this problem. When monks take on the work of kings, they inevitably enter domains of power that expose them to temptations the Vinaya was designed to avoid. Handling money, managing institutions, cultivating political patrons, and exercising authority over laypeople create opportunities for ego, ambition, and moral compromise. The monk who becomes a public figure is no longer shielded by the anonymity and humility of the renunciant life. Instead, he becomes a celebrity, a leader, and in some cases an object of uncritical devotion. This elevation brings with it a dangerous form of immunity. Laypeople who revere a monk for his public achievements may hesitate to question his behaviour. Politicians who rely on monastic support may protect him from scrutiny. The media, which often treats monks as moral authorities, may be reluctant to investigate allegations that challenge the sanctity of the robe.

The recent scandal illustrates how these dynamics can converge. The monk at the centre of the case was not an obscure figure. He was a respected preacher, charismatic leader, and head of a prominent institution. His public image was built on years of service, teaching, and community engagement. Yet it was precisely this public stature that allowed him to operate without meaningful oversight. The institutional structures around him, administrators, lay supporters, and junior monks, were either unwilling or unable to challenge his authority. The very qualities that made him a respected figure in the eyes of the public also made him untouchable within his own institution. When allegations finally emerged, they revealed not only personal wrongdoing but a systemic failure of accountability.

Failure that is not unique

This failure is not unique to one temple or one monk. It reflects a broader pattern within the modern Sangha. As monastic institutions have grown in size, wealth, and influence, their internal governance has struggled to keep pace. Many temples operate as semiautonomous entities controlled by a single monk or a small group of monks. Financial transparency is limited, administrative oversight is weak, and the mechanisms for addressing misconduct are often informal or ineffective. The traditional structures of monastic discipline, such as the Sangharama procedures for adjudicating offences, are rarely used in modern contexts, partly because they require collective participation and partly because they are illsuited to the complexities of contemporary institutional life. In practice, this means that monks who wield significant authority can act with little fear of internal sanction.

The politicisation of the Sangha has further complicated matters. Since the midtwentieth century, monks have played an increasingly prominent role in electoral politics, nationalist movements, and public policy debates. This involvement has given them access to political networks that can be mobilised to protect their interests. It has also created a culture in which monks are valued not for their adherence to the Vinaya but for their ability to influence public opinion, mobilise voters, or lend moral legitimacy to political causes. In such an environment, the monk who is politically useful may be shielded from criticism, while the monk who adheres strictly to the renunciant ideal may find himself marginalised or ignored.

The result is a profound distortion of monastic identity. The monk who once sought liberation from worldly attachments is now encouraged to cultivate influence, authority, and public recognition. The monk who once lived under the strict supervision of senior elders now operates in a world where independence is celebrated and oversight is minimal. The monk who once relied on laypeople for basic sustenance now controls vast resources, manages institutions, and commands the loyalty of thousands of followers. This inversion of traditional roles has created a fertile ground for moral deterioration.

Yet it would be a mistake to interpret this deterioration as evidence that the Sangha as a whole is corrupt. Many monks continue to live lives of remarkable discipline, humility, and spiritual dedication. In remote forest monasteries, small village temples, and meditation centres across the country, monks quietly uphold the ancient ideals of the renunciant life. They are not the ones who appear on television, lead political rallies, or manage large institutions. Their work is invisible, their influence subtle, and their commitment unwavering. The crisis facing the Sangha today is not a crisis of individual morality but a crisis of institutional identity. It is the product of a centurylong transformation that has blurred the boundaries between the monastic and the secular, the spiritual and the political, the renunciant and the worldly.

If Sri Lanka is to address this crisis, it must begin by acknowledging the structural nature of the problem. The temptation to treat each scandal as an isolated incident must be resisted. Instead, the country must confront the uncomfortable reality that the modern configuration of monastic life is fundamentally at odds with the principles of the Vinaya. The Sangha cannot simultaneously function as a political force, a social service provider, a media institution, and a spiritual community without compromising its integrity. The more monks are drawn into the world, the more vulnerable they become to the moral dangers that the Buddha warned against.

Reform, therefore, must focus not only on punishing individual offenders but on rethinking the institutional structures that enable misconduct. This includes strengthening internal governance, enhancing financial transparency, restoring the authority of senior elders, and reestablishing the communal practices that once ensured accountability. It also requires a broader cultural shift in how laypeople relate to monks. Blind devotion must give way to informed respect. Reverence must be balanced with responsibility. The robe must be honoured, but it must not be used as a shield against scrutiny.

Seneviratne’s work offers a valuable starting point for this rethinking. His analysis reminds us that the crisis facing the Sangha is not the result of moral decline alone but of historical forces that reshaped the identity of the monkhood. By tracing the evolution of the activist monk, he shows how the Sangha became entangled in the political and social structures of the modern nationstate. This entanglement has brought both benefits and dangers. It has allowed monks to play important roles in education, social welfare, and national development. But it has also exposed them to the corrupting influences of power, wealth, and public acclaim.

The challenge now is to disentangle the Sangha from these influences without undermining its ability to serve society. This will not be easy. The activist monk has become deeply embedded in the cultural and political fabric of the country. Many laypeople expect monks to be leaders, reformers, and guardians of national identity. Politicians rely on monastic support to legitimise their agendas. Media institutions depend on monks for content, commentary, and moral authority. Reversing this trend will require a collective effort from monks, laypeople, and political leaders alike.

Ultimately, the future of the Sangha depends on its ability to reclaim the renunciant ideal that lies at the heart of Buddhist monasticism. This does not mean withdrawing from society entirely, but it does mean reestablishing the boundaries that protect the monk from the dangers of worldly involvement. It means recognising that the true strength of the Sangha lies not in its political influence or institutional power but in its moral authority, its spiritual discipline, and its commitment to the path of liberation. The recent scandal, painful as it is, may serve as a catalyst for this reevaluation. It has exposed the vulnerabilities of the modern monastic system and forced the country to confront the consequences of a centurylong transformation.

To understand how the Vihara Devalegam Act relates to the perceived moral deformation of the clergy, it is necessary to examine how property management, state law, and monastic discipline intersect in the modern era. Historically stemming from the Buddhist Temporalities Ordinance No. 19 of 1931, this act serves as the primary legal framework governing the ‘temporalities’—meaning the secular wealth, extensive landholdings, and material donations belonging to Buddhist temples and shrines. While ancient kings granted these vast tracts of land to support the monkhood’s spiritual pursuits, the modern codification of this law has inadvertently fostered a system where property rights frequently supersede spiritual accountability.

The core of the crisis lies in the commercialisation of the monastic order that this legal framework enables. By treating temple lands as economic assets and vesting absolute administrative power in individual chief monks or lay trustees, the act has contributed to the rise of what critics term a monastic middle class. Access to vast, unregulated financial resources, rent from lands, and corporate donations has fundamentally shifted the focus of certain segments of the clergy away from the traditional path of worldly renunciation and spiritual guidance. Instead, it has driven a preoccupation with business investments, the accumulation of private capital, and luxury lifestyles, which deeply alienates a public looking to the Sangha for moral leadership.

The institutional flaws embedded in the Vihara Devalegam Act find a stark, real-world manifestation in the recent criminal case involving Venerable Pallegama Hemarathana Thero. As the chief priest of Anuradhapura and the custodian of the Atamasthana—the eight highly venerated Buddhist shrines, including the sacred Jaya Sri Maha Bodhi—Hemarathana Thero occupied one of the most powerful and wealthy positions within the Sri Lankan Sangha. His arrest on charges of sexual abuse of a minor girl perfectly illustrates how the structural defects of the Act facilitate not only moral decay but also the systemic obstruction of justice.

The core of this intersection lies in the vast, unaccountable wealth generated by the temporalities of the Anuradhapura shrines. Under the Vihara Devalegam Act, the chief custodian exercises immense, virtually unchecked control over temple revenues, state-backed land management, and millions of rupees in daily donations from millions of global pilgrims. It is precisely this immense financial liquidity that enabled the alleged deployment of vast sums of money to the victim’s family.

Furthermore, the situation underscores the profound policy failures cited regarding the helplessness of the monastic hierarchy and state enforcement. When child protection authorities initially attempted to act, the National Child Protection Authority noted severe delays and institutional resistance, stating they practically had to force the police to execute the arrest. The monk’s immediate retreat to a private hospital in Colombo upon the advancement of the criminal probe, followed by his release on bail, mirrors the exact loop described where wealthy monastics deploy high-priced legal defence teams funded directly or indirectly by their institutional positions. Because the Vihara Devalegam Act does not provide a mechanism for the immediate, unconditional forfeiture of temporal administrative rights upon a criminal indictment, the accused retains his structural power throughout the legal process. The Pallegama Thero scandal stands as definitive proof that without a fundamental overhaul of how temple wealth is legally governed and disciplined, the material benefits guaranteed by ancient temporalities will continue to shield the worst elements of moral deformation from the rule of law.

If Sri Lanka can learn from this moment and if it can recognise the structural roots of the crisis and commit to meaningful reform, then the Sangha may yet emerge stronger, more disciplined, and more faithful to its ancient ideals. But if the country continues to treat each scandal as an isolated failure and if it continues to ignore the deeper institutional problems that Seneviratne identified, then the moral deterioration we see today will only deepen. The work of kings, when performed by monks, carries a heavy price. It is time to decide whether that price is worth paying.

by Professor Amarasiri de Silva

Features

Kondachchi wind farm and battery storage project to boost energy security, says Power Ministry Secretary

Published

19 hours ago

2026/06/5

Thilina Walpola

The Power and Energy Ministry’s drive towards energy security and renewable energy expansion received a major boost yesterday with the signing of a tripartite cooperation agreement for the development of the 150 MW Kondachchi Wind Power Project and an integrated Battery Energy Storage System (BESS) in Mannar.

The agreement was signed at the Ministry of Power auditorium under the patronage of Power Minister Anura Karunatilaka and Deputy Power Minister Arkam Ilyas.

Speaking at the event, Ministry Secretary G. M. R. D. Aponsu described the project as a transformative investment that would strengthen the country’s electricity network while supporting Sri Lanka’s transition towards cleaner energy sources.

“The Kondachchi Wind Power Project represents a significant milestone in Sri Lanka’s renewable energy journey. By combining large-scale wind generation with advanced battery energy storage technology, we are creating a more resilient and reliable power system capable of meeting future energy demands while reducing dependence on imported fossil fuels,” Aponsu said.

The project will be developed at Silavathurai in the Kondachchi area of Mannar on lands owned by the Sri Lanka Cashew Corporation. It is expected to utilise some 31 modern wind turbines with a total installed capacity of at least 150 MW.

Aponsu said the inclusion of an integrated battery storage facility would help address the variability associated with wind power generation and ensure stable electricity supply to the national grid.

“The battery energy storage component is a key feature of this project. It will enable the efficient integration of renewable energy into the grid and enhance overall system stability, which is essential as Sri Lanka increases the share of renewables in its energy mix,” he said.

According to the Ministry, the wind farm is expected to generate nearly 525 gigawatt-hours of electricity annually, significantly reducing the country’s expenditure on imported fuel and strengthening national energy security.

The project is also expected to contribute to Sri Lanka’s climate commitments by reducing carbon dioxide emissions by an estimated 372,750 tonnes annually.

“This investment delivers both economic and environmental benefits. It will reduce greenhouse gas emissions, support sustainable development objectives and help Sri Lanka move closer to achieving its renewable energy and climate targets,” Aponsu noted.

The project will be implemented under a Public-Private Partnership (PPP) arrangement using the Build, Own and Operate (BOO) model. The Asian Development Bank is providing technical and financial advisory support through its Transaction Advisory Services programme.

The signing ceremony was attended by Pradeep Perera, Chairman of the National System Operator (Pvt) Ltd., and Takeyo Koike, Head of Market Development and Public-Private Partnership Division of the ADB, among other distinguished guests.

The Ministry said comprehensive Environmental Impact Assessments and avifaunal studies have been undertaken to ensure minimal impacts on bird populations, nearby communities and agricultural lands. A dedicated 220-kilovolt transmission system will also be constructed to connect the project to the national grid.

“The Kondachchi Wind Farm is a strategic national project that will help secure Sri Lanka’s energy future while accelerating the country’s transition towards sustainable and affordable electricity generation,” Aponsu said.

Energy sector experts view the project as one of the most important renewable energy initiatives currently being pursued in Sri Lanka, combining utility-scale wind generation with modern energy storage technology to enhance grid reliability and long-term energy sustainability.

By Ifham Nizam

Features

Saudi Arabia sets new benchmark in Hajj management as 1.7 million pilgrims complete sacred journey

Published

19 hours ago

2026/06/5

Thilina Walpola

Ambassador Al-Kahtani

Interview with Khalid Hamoud Al-Kahtani, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to Sri Lanka

Saudi Arabia has once again demonstrated its unparalleled capacity to manage one of the world’s largest annual religious gatherings, with this year’s Hajj pilgrimage concluding successfully despite extreme temperatures and the immense logistical challenge of accommodating more than 1.7 million pilgrims from around the world.

In an exclusive interview with The Island, Khalid Hamoud Al-Kahtani, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to Sri Lanka, described the 2026 Hajj season as a resounding success, crediting the achievement to the visionary leadership of the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince and Prime Minister, and the coordinated efforts of multiple government agencies working around the clock to serve pilgrims.

The Ambassador noted that nearly 3,500 Sri Lankan pilgrims participated in this year’s Hajj under the quota allocated to Sri Lanka, benefiting from enhanced healthcare services, sophisticated crowd-management systems, expanded shaded areas and cutting-edge digital solutions introduced by the Kingdom.

With Saudi Arabia continuing to invest heavily in infrastructure, technology and pilgrim services under Vision 2030, Ambassador Al-Kahtani said the Kingdom remains committed to ensuring that pilgrims from around the world perform their religious duties in safety, comfort and tranquility.

The Saudi envoy also highlighted the growing partnership between Saudi Arabia and Sri Lanka, emphasising expanding cooperation not only in Hajj affairs but also in trade, investment, education, culture and institutional exchanges.

Following are excerpts of the interview:

Q: How do you assess this year’s Hajj season?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: This year’s Hajj season was a resounding success, thanks to the Almighty Allah and the integrated efforts of the government of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, led by the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques and His Royal Highness the Crown Prince and Prime Minister. This success was reflected in the efficiency of crowd management, the quality of services provided to the Hajj pilgrims and the effective coordination among the various relevant authorities, which enabled pilgrims to perform their rituals in an atmosphere of security, tranquility and ease.

Q: How many Sri Lankan pilgrims performed Hajj this year?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The number of Hajj pilgrims from the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka reached approximately 3,500, within the quota allocated to Sri Lanka for this season.

Q: Are there any discussions regarding increasing Sri Lanka’s quota in the future?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani:Hajj quotas are determined according to approved regulatory mechanisms that take into account a range of considerations. The relevant authorities in the Kingdom continue to study various aspects related to developing Hajj services and accommodating the allocated numbers for all countries, in coordination with the concerned parties.

Q: What were the most prominent special arrangements implemented this year?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The operational plans for this season focused on enhancing the safety and comfort of the Hajj pilgrims, especially given the climatic conditions and high temperatures. Measures included expanding shaded areas, increasing water distribution points and enhancing health and ambulance services, in addition to developing the transportation system and traffic management within the holy sites.

Q: What are the most prominent digital systems and smart services that were provided?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani:The Kingdom continues to implement its digital transformation objectives for the Hajj and Umrah system. The scope of electronic services offered through the Nusuk platform and application has been expanded, along with the development of digital systems for issuing permits, managing crowds, guidance and health services. This contributes to increasing the efficiency of services and improving the pilgrim’s experience at all stages of their journey.

Q: How were the challenges of overcrowding and heat addressed?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The relevant authorities adopted an integrated crowd-management system based on modern technologies and real-time data analysis. This was coupled with intensified health-awareness campaigns, expanded organised movement routes and increased deployment of field, medical and emergency teams. These measures support the safety of the Hajj pilgrims and reduce the risks associated with crowd density and climatic conditions.

Q: Were there special services for the elderly and sick?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: Yes. The Kingdom paid special attention to the elderly and people with special health needs by providing specialized medical services, assistive transportation and facilities equipped to meet their needs, in addition to field teams working to provide humanitarian support and necessary healthcare throughout the Hajj period.

Q: How successful was the Kingdom in combating irregular Hajj permits?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The relevant authorities in the Kingdom continued to rigorously implement the regulations and instructions governing Hajj, utilising modern technologies and advanced monitoring procedures to reduce violations related to irregular Hajj. These efforts contributed to enhancing the safety of pilgrims, improving crowd-management efficiency and maintaining the smooth flow of movement within the holy sites.

Q: How would you describe Saudi-Sri Lankan cooperation in organising Hajj?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: Cooperation between the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and the Republic of Sri Lanka is characterised by continuous and constructive coordination in all matters related to Hajj. The relevant authorities in both countries work jointly to ensure the provision of the best services for Sri Lankan pilgrims and enable them to perform their rituals with ease and peace of mind.

Q: How many Hajj pilgrims were there globally, and what were the main challenges?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: According to official statistics, the number of Hajj pilgrims this year reached 1,707,301 from various countries around the world. The main challenges included managing large crowds, ensuring public safety and providing health, transportation and accommodation services within a specific geographical and temporal scope. These challenges were addressed through advanced and integrated operational plans, which contributed to the smooth and successful completion of the Hajj season.

Q: Are there any future expansion projects?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The Kingdom continues to implement strategic development projects within the framework of Vision 2030, including developing the infrastructure in Makkah and the Holy Sites, and enhancing transportation networks and smart services. This contributes to raising the quality of services provided to pilgrims and Umrah performers and improving their long-term experience.

Q: How are Saudi-Sri Lankan relations strengthened outside the context of Hajj?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: Relations between the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and the Republic of Sri Lanka are witnessing continuous development in many areas, including political, economic, trade, cultural and educational cooperation, in addition to developing exchanges between institutions and the private sector. This reflects the two countries’ keenness to strengthen the bilateral partnership and achieve common interests.

Q: What message would you like to convey to Sri Lankan Muslims?

Ambassador Al-Kahtani: We extend our sincere congratulations to the Hajj pilgrims who have completed their Hajj rituals, and we ask Almighty Allah to accept their pilgrimage. We also assure Muslims in Sri Lanka that the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia places serving the Two Holy Mosques and the guests of Almighty Allah at the forefront of its priorities and continues to develop the Hajj and Umrah system to achieve the highest standards of quality and safety.

By Ifham Nizam