Features
The Odyssey and Living Legacy of sieur de La Nérolle
By Uditha Devapriya
Review of Yasmin Rajapakse’s The Odyssey and Living Legacy of sieur de La Nérolle: The French Lieutenant of the Expedition Escadre de Perse to Ceylon in 1672.
Neptune Publications,
98 pages, Rs. 2,000.
Europe’s imperial forays into the East were shaped by a long line of events, dating back to the Reconquista of 1492. These events sealed the fate of one part of the world: limited until then to occasional encounters with the West, Africa and Asia eventually turned into colonial outposts. That, in turn, had a profound impact on the course of politics in Europe; rocked by economic changes and religious tensions, it became a hotbed of conflict.
These developments did not escape Sri Lanka. Conquered by succeeding waves of South Indian dynasties, the country had its first taste of European colonialism in the mid-16th century. With its logic of exploitation and proselytisation, Portuguese rule lasted for more than half a century. Its inception coincided with the inception of the Kandyan kingdom, its collapse with the onset of the Dutch-Portuguese War. Taking advantage of these shifts and developments, Kandyan rulers sought Dutch support to overthrow the Portuguese. The ruse worked, though not entirely to the satisfaction of the Kandyans.
In November 1656, Dutch forces forced Rajasinghe II away from Colombo, contrary to the terms of an agreement that had pledged to cede the capital to Kandy. With the surrender of Portuguese forces in Jaffna on June 24, 1658, the Dutch established their rule in the country. We are told that five months later, on November 20, officials passed a resolution praising God for helping them evict their foes. Paul E. Pieris observes that while these celebrations were taking place, “[a] Jesuit was beheaded and 11 others were hanged, their bodies being left to rot on the gibbets.” These were obviously spoils of war.
One of the most idiosyncratic of the Sinhalese kings, Rajasinghe II was arguably the most tempestuous. We are told that he acted “like a caged tiger.” One day he would vent his fury against the Dutch, and the very next he would tell them that he appreciated their services. Anxious to secure his goodwill, the Hollanders for their part humoured him by sending him gifts, missives, entreaties, and ambassadors. At the peak of his reign, Paul E. Pieris notes, he had collected a large and perfect menagerie of foreigners and diplomats; perhaps the most well known of these was Robert Knox, taken prisoner in 1660.
Yasmin Rajapakse’s book is about one of these officials. At once lucid and accessible, it is rich in sources and packed with details. As she notes at the very beginning, though much has been written about the subject of her work, very little has been verified. What Rajapakse’s account attempts to do, then, is make sense of the man behind the legend, deconstructing one of the more intriguing periods in our history.
The subject of several apocryphal and anecdotal accounts, sieur de La Nérolle’s life has never been seriously examined until now. While a number of essays, articles, and even books have been written about him, none of them has attempted to place his story in the context of his times. This is what Yasmin Rajapakse tries to do in her book. Guided by her intense passion for French and Sri Lankan history, she traces de La Nérolle’s trysts with the island to certain political developments in 17th century Europe.
Rajapakse begins her account, understandably enough, with the land of La Nérolle’s birth. France in the 16th century, she notes, was different to the country it would later become. With an abundance of resources, officials did not feel the need to expand into other regions, especially in the East, as the Portuguese, Dutch, and British were doing. All that changed in the second half of the century, in particular after the establishment of the French East Indies Company. Hemmed in for so long by rival European powers, it realised that to contend with them, it had to go out and explore. To that end, under Louis XIV, the “Sun God”, the French STate began to build up a strong naval force, to pursue trade in the East Indies.
At the time France was witnessing not just economic change, but social upheaval. Religious tensions had become the order of the day, with schisms between Catholics and Protestants spilling over to the country’s political life. One of the more prominent officials of the French East Indies Company was François Caron, a Protestant-Huguenot refugee born in Flanders. Caron’s career resembles that of many petty officials who went on to hold high positions in the Orient: working as a kitchen assistant at the age of 19 in the Dutch East Indies Company, he mastered Japanese and became the President of the Company and Admiral of the Dutch Fleet. Falling out with the Company, he later switched allegiances to the French.
Caron’s first task was to establish trade in the East Indies. Louis XIV’s Minister of State, Jean-Baptiste Colbert, had envisioned a series of reforms that would help France stand on par with the rest of Europe. To this end, Caron’s proposal, that the French Navy go beyond the Pacific and into the Indian Ocean, was well received.
Having been involved in the Dutch capture of Negombo from the Portuguese in 1644, Caron soon realised that Ceylon figured in his scheme of things, and communicated as much with Colbert. In 1669 he despatched a letter to Rajasinghe II, informing him of France’s intention to “forge a lasting friendship” with his Court. A year later Colbert summoned a naval force, baptising it Escadre de Perse, or “Squadron of Persia”, and sailing from La Rochelle in March 1670 to the coast of Koddiyar, or Trincomalee, in March 1672.
All these details seem superfluous, but they are vital to Rajapakse’s narrative. We are told that Rajasinghe II received the first two diplomats sent by the French mission to Kandy well. We are told that he agreed with their proposal to counter the Dutch. Yet Dutch designs on the island and on Kandy being what they were, they could not prevail for long against their competitors. The upsurge of war between Holland and France in 1671 did not help resolve these confrontations, and in the end, barely a year after settling in the East of the island, the French fleet, or what was left of it, evacuated and abandoned Trincomalee.
Yasmin Rajapakse reflects on the reasons for these failures, noting not just the logistical problems that French soldiers had to face, but also the capability of the French fleet tasked with securing conveniences across the Indo-Pacific. This is where she gets to the subject of her study. Before setting sail back home, French officials despatched yet another mission to Kandy. The man chosen to head this mission, who would remain in Kandy despite his wishes and plans, was a young lieutenant attached to the fleet, the sieur de la Nérolle.
Who were the de La Nérolles? Rajapakse traces them to a family of military officials from the village of Charante. Today, of course, there are many De Lanerolles in Sri Lanka, with a separate but related line bearing the name Lenora. In France the de La Nérolles faced the brunt of the country’s official religious policy, converting from the Protestantism of their youth to Catholicism after Louis XIV cut their privileges. This, no doubt, made Lieutenant de La Nérolle, stranded in Kandy, the sole Protestant or Huguenot from his family. As Rajapakse makes it clear in her account, that had a profound impact on his relations with not only the Sinhalese kings, but also the many foreign emissaries at the Kandyan court.
The Kandyan kingdom of the 17th and 18th centuries, as countless historians have pointed out, was a flourishing cosmopolitan enclave. Open to a great many foreign influences, it occupied a world of its own. Sinhalese kings had made contacts with Catholic refugees, Protestant priests, Muslim traders, Hindu swamis, and European diplomats. Rajasinghe II’s fascination with the latter endeared him to Westerners.
These policies were maintained by his successors, two of which Sieur de La Nérolle served: Wimaladharmasuriya II and Vira Parakrama Narendrasinghe. De La Nérolle went on to endear himself so well to the Kandyan Court that, in 1723, he was not just permitted to marry a woman from a prominent noble family, but also conferred with the title of Mudiyanse.
A beneficiary of Kandyan largesse, de La Nérolle found himself enjoying a status few others did. Though there were obvious strategic motives to their decision to tolerate and reward foreign officials, the Sinhalese kings went out of their way to ensure that the Europeans in their realm were taken care of. Often they took them into their confidence, granting them access. For their part, European emissaries remained respectful of local customs, especially the King’s patronage of Buddhism. This did not, however, mean that they abandoned their way of life: writing of de La Nérolle, for instance, Rajapakse tells us very clearly and candidly that he “was known to be vehemently anti-catholic.”
It was the Frenchman’s rigid anti-Catholicism, in fact, which compelled him to denounce Joseph Vaz as a spy to Wimaladharmasuriya II. The latter at once ordered his men to seize the priest, yet upon realising that he was “a harmless Catholic ascetic”, he let him go. This by no means resolved tensions between the Huguenot and the Papist: Rajapakse relates a particularly lively debate between de La Nérolle and a later Catholic ascetic frequenting the Kandyan kingdom, Jacombe Gonçalves, played out in front of Narendrasinghe over matters of faith such as the relevance of saints and idols to the Church.
In what can be taken as a testament to the influence of the Portuguese Church in Sri Lanka, the avowedly Sinhalese Buddhist king sided with Gonçalves, convinced by his defence of the worship of idols. Though Rajapakse does not mention it, it is possible that the king’s own partiality to “idol-worshipping” made him favour the Catholic priest, a fact which may explain his patronage of not just Gonçalves, but also other priests. Gonçalves for his part conspired to convert de La Nérolle’s closest aide, Pedro Gascon of “Daskon” fame, a ruse that eventually succeeded. Meanwhile, having sided with the Catholic priest, the ever sharp and intrepid Narendrasinghe threatened to hand sieur de La Nérolle over to Catholic adversaries unless he “cease his rant” against their Church.
All this changed with the advent of the Nayakkars. A Telugu dynasty from South India, the Nayakkars found themselves in the midst of a swirling mass of conspiracy at the Kandyan Court. Though commanding the loyalty of Sinhalese nobles and Buddhist priests, they had to prove their allegiance to Sinhalese culture and Buddhist practices. Unlike their predecessors, they had to be more public about their patronage of those practices. This obviously meant shedding off all foreign accretions, not just within their family, but also within the kingdom. Faced with the “atmosphere of uncertainly and insecurity” that followed this, the La Nérolle courtiers in Kandyan Court felt compelled to leave. With their exit, Rajapakse concludes, the family line shifted from the hill country to the Dutch-controlled South.
The Odyssey and Living Legacy of sieur de La Nérolle is unabashedly a labour of love. Well researched and well sourced, it is replete with enough references to qualify it as a first-rate work. The only discernible error, on page nine, is a misdating of a letter sent by Caron to Rajasinghe II. What makes it stand out well in other respects is the author’s love for French culture and Sri Lankan history. A Francophone and, I daresay, Francophile, Yasmin Rajapakse first came to us onboard Bonsoir. Though not a professional historian, her account of sieur de La Nérolle puts her above many professionals in the country, whose abandonment of the most basic principles of scholarship is to be deeply regretted. At the end of it all, this is what distinguishes Rajapakse’s work, and what distinguishes her.
The writer can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com
Features
Revolt in the Temple: Poverty as Structural Control
The underlying issue in Anuradhapura is a struggle between a few families who, for years, have waged a quiet cold war over control of the Udamaluwa. Similar situations exist in Mihintale as well. These places, among others, are treated as treasures of Buddhism but, in practice, function as tightly controlled economic centres. The same pattern repeats in Kandy around the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic and in Kataragama at the shrine of God Kataragama. Variations of it exist across religious spaces of Islam, Catholicism, and Hinduism too, where institutional authority becomes indistinguishable from localised power networks. What is presented as sacred order often operates as inherited control.
It is indeed devastating to see situations where parents have no alternative but to expose their children to predators in robes for survival. This has nothing to do with religion itself, but with human pathology in the context of survival. These are the questions that demand answers, not superficial responses that treat symptoms while ignoring the conditions that produce them. What is more shocking and disturbing is not the tragedy itself, but the reactions to it. Social media has overwhelmed us, not towards understanding, but towards a fragmented cognitive state with no exit route.
A friend of mine in Nairobi used to keep all his electronic devices at home and go into the forest once a month, spending days there before returning. He called it “detoxification”, but in reality it was an escape from a system that no longer allows uninterrupted thought. Daily life is now saturated with unnecessary content, and attention itself has become a commodity extracted, processed, and sold back to us. This is where we have become unable to understand what really drives certain tragedies we endlessly react to, while remaining blind to the systems that quietly manufacture them.
Multi-dimensional poverty
Poverty is structural, poverty is political, and poverty is functional; it is a tool and a manoeuvring force of power. The question is no longer whether poverty exists, but who benefits from its persistence, and who is forced to survive within it. From education to medicine to basic food supply chains, countries like Sri Lanka are not simply mismanaged; they are structurally captured by a small number of actors who remain stable regardless of who is formally in power. Small-scale enterprises and NGO circuits that circulate foreign funding to “solve structural issues” often operate as hollow administrative performances, producing reports rather than transformation.
Poverty is not merely the absence of money. It is the absence of bandwidth, absence of protection, absence of time, and absence of cognitive stability. As Sendhil Mullainathan and Eldar Shafir state, “Scarcity captures the mind. Just as the starving subjects had food on their mind, when we experience scarcity of any kind, we become absorbed by it.” This is a description of how human cognition is structurally reorganized under constraint. Scarcity does not sit outside the person; it occupies them.
They also state, “Scarcity leads us to borrow and pushes us deeper into scarcity.” That is the mechanism that must be confronted without euphemism. Poverty is not only deprivation; it is a self-reinforcing trap in which survival decisions generate the next layer of crisis. Once a society crosses a certain threshold of scarcity, it stops producing long-term reasoning as a default condition. It produces short-term survival logic, often mistaken by outsiders for irrationality.
It is precisely here that public discourse becomes intellectually dishonest. Everything is translated into moral language because moral language is easier than structural analysis. But morality without structure becomes theatre. It produces outrage, not understanding, and repetition, not reform.
It is indeed brutal when an individual wearing religious insignia—whether robe, symbol, or institutional identity—is accused of acts that fundamentally contradict the moral authority attached to that position. It is equally brutal when institutions that depend entirely on trust begin to function as shields rather than safeguards. But the deeper question is not shock. The deeper question is what kind of social condition produces families who see placement within such institutions not only as devotion, but as a survival strategy under constraint.
Ethical decision-making
That is where the argument collapses into its most uncomfortable form. Poverty does not produce ethical decision-making environments. It produces constrained optimization under pressure. When food insecurity, debt, and social instability converge, institutional spaces that appear stable become transactional destinations for survival rather than moral choices. To interpret this as purely cultural failure is to deliberately ignore the structural compression of options.
Mullainathan and Shafir describe this clearly: “Instead of saying that scarcity ‘focuses,’ we could just as easily say that scarcity causes us to tunnel: to focus single-mindedly on managing the scarcity at hand.” That tunnelling effect is not abstract. It is visible wherever long-term planning collapses under immediate pressure. Systems then misread this as irresponsibility, when it is in fact cognitive overload produced by structure.
What is rarely acknowledged is how deeply this extends into governance itself. Institutions increasingly operate as if they are managing rational, unconstrained individuals. In reality, they are interacting with populations whose cognitive bandwidth is already structurally taxed. The result is policy failure interpreted as public non-compliance, enforcement interpreted as moral correction, and reform interpreted as communication failure rather than design failure.
Social media has intensified this distortion. It does not merely spread information; it destroys sequencing. Structural problems require temporal depth. Social media removes that depth and replaces it with instantaneous judgment. Every event becomes a surface object, detached from causality. The outcome is a society permanently reacting and never diagnosing.
Poverty, in this environment, becomes invisible in its real form. It is not seen as a continuous structural condition but as episodic failure. A scandal appears, is consumed, and disappears. Another replaces it. Nothing accumulates into understanding because attention itself is exhausted before synthesis can occur.
Modern Condition
The modern condition reflects a reversal of earlier social organization, where human relationships are embedded within abstract systems of finance, law, and administration that often fail to recognize the lived constraints of those they govern. In this disembedded state, institutions increasingly misinterpret human behaviour as their capacity for structural understanding weakens. At the same time, attempts to resolve systemic failures through expanding administrative complexity produce diminishing returns: more regulation, oversight, and reporting generate less coherence. Over time, institutions shift from functional effectiveness to symbolic performance, maintaining the appearance of control rather than achieving it.
This is why public outrage repeatedly fails to translate into structural change. Outrage is not a tool of reconstruction. It is a signal of system fatigue. It circulates, intensifies, and dissipates without altering the underlying architecture. Meanwhile, the conditions that produce repetition remain intact.
The most persistent illusion is that these are separate problems: poverty here, institutional misuse there, media distortion elsewhere. They are not separate. They are expressions of a single condition in which scarcity, complexity, symbolic authority, and fragmented enforcement interact without coordination. The system does not fail in one place; it fails in the gaps between these layers.
Symbolic systems
What makes this condition more severe is that symbolic systems continue to operate at full strength even when structural systems degrade. Religious identity remains powerful. Political rhetoric remains strong. Cultural symbolism remains intact. But enforcement capacity, institutional coherence, and social trust degrade beneath them. That gap is where instability grows. Until that gap is addressed at the level of structure rather than sentiment, repetition remains inevitable. New scandals will emerge, new interpretations will circulate, and new cycles of outrage will follow. Nothing resolves because nothing is being reconstructed beneath the surface of reaction.
This is no longer repairable through adjustment or rhetoric. It is a form of decay that persists until it exhausts itself, because the mechanisms meant to correct it are now part of the same failure. It continues until rupture, not reform. At that point, instability ceases to be episodic and becomes structural. Pressure will accumulate into breakdown, and what follows will not be managed transition but forced reversal. The responsibility lies with those who govern these institutions to prevent that trajectory, not through language, but through change. The drama is ending; farce is over; what we are witnessing is tragedy unfolding with unprecedented consequences.
by Nilantha Ilangamuwa
Features
Are threats to Buddha Sasana external or from within?
As Sri Lanka celebrates the birth, Enlightenment and the Parinibbana of the Buddha, almost a month after the rest of the Buddhist-world did so, there is widespread discussion about threats to Buddha Sasana provoked by some recent incidents. Regarding the views expressed about postponing Vesak celebrations in my article ‘May Day and postponement Vesak 2026’ (The Island, 25 May), my very good friend Dr Upali Abeysiri has sent me the following comments: “The Mahanayakas have a good reason to postpone Vesak. The dawning of the full moon has to be on the same constellation (nekatha) as when the Buddha was born and attained enlightenment. Although Adhi Poya is reckoned as the second full moon arising in the same calendar month, this is supposed to be an odd exception.” Though it would have been ideal if a consensus could have been reached prior to the split of celebrations, perhaps, it does not matter very much as celebrations occur on a symbolic rather than an actual date, there being no historical or archaeological evidence confirming exact dates.
Whilst there are no direct threats to Buddha Dhamma, as the expanding horizons of science continue to confirm the fundamentals of Buddha Dhamma, there is no doubt whatsoever that there are threats to Buddha Sasana. However, these threats become important as the Buddha Sasana performs the pivotal role in protecting and propagating the Dhamma and, hence, become an indirect threat to Dhamma itself. Therefore, it should be the concern of all Buddhists and it is in this spirit I am making some comments which some may interpret as disrespectful to the Maha Sangha. I can reassure that my intentions are entirely directed towards the preservation of the Buddha Dhamma and Sasana. Though the Buddha proclaimed that the Sasana consists of Bhikkhu, Bhikkhuni, Upasaka and Upasika, for all practical purposes Sasana had been led by Bhikkhus, often at the expense of others.
There is hardly any doubt that there are external forces at play in Sri Lanka and even some Buddhists seem to object to Sri Lanka being called a Buddhist country. Interestingly, no one seems to object to countries like the UK and the USA being called Christian counties. I
There is no registration or baptism in Buddhism and there are no rewards for Buddhists for conversions. As I pointed out in a previous article, ‘How does the Buddha differ’ (The Island, 1 May) unlike most other religions, Buddhism is not a ‘high-demand’ religion, nor ‘law-based’ religion and is not exclusivist. Perhaps, it is this liberalism, pacifism and gentleness, which are the real strengths, that are being exploited as weaknesses by others.
There will always be external threats and the Buddha too faced many during his lifetime. Before addressing those, is it not more important to address the threats within? One of the most important problems seems to be the breakdown of discipline. Bhikkhus are bound by Vinaya rules, laid down by the Buddha and some recent incidents highlight total deviations. Though there were many previous incidents like unsubstantiated claims of Arahanthood, Bhikkhus attacking each other on YouTube and Bhikkhus conducting YouTube channels, not for the propagation of the Dhamma but for the accumulation of rupees, attention was focused after the detection of 22 young monks carrying narcotic drugs.
Though many commentators were quick to condemn the Sangha on this account, we need to go deeper. Narcotic menace has become a huge problem in Sri Lanka and it looks as if the drug lords would resort to anything to achieve their objectives. Though it looks as if some gullible young monks had been duped by drug lords, we need to question why it was possible. Is it due to the lack of supervision of these novices by their seniors that allowed them to accept a request in a WhatsApp group? Should there be checks and balances on foreign travel by Bhikkhus?
What shocked Buddhists was what followed next; the arrest of the Nayaka of Atamasthana for allegedly having sex with a minor. Anuradhapura was our first capital and Sri Maha Bodhi is the longest surviving authenticated tree in the world. Ruwanweliseya and Jetawanaramaya were among the ten tallest man-made structures in the ancient world, Jetawanaramaya still holding the Guiness record for the largest stupa in the world. Cyberspace is full of theories. Whilst some have condemned the Nayaka Thero even before the conclusion of inquiries whilst others claim that this was a coup by another Nayaka Thera in an attempt of succession.
I was intrigued, reading in a Sri Lankan newspaper about the 80th birthday celebrations of a Nayaka priest, who was convicted in London in 2012 of historical child sex abuse and sentenced to seven years in prison. I remember the case very well as he was the head of the Vihara, we had our first contact on relocating to the UK. I also remember his devotees, who believed that he was wrongly accused, collecting over £50,000 for an appeal. In spite of being represented by one of the top Barristers in the UK, the conviction was upheld but the jail-term was reduced by a year. His name is still on the sex-offenders register in the UK and he is permanently prevented from association with children. One can argue that as he has served the sentence and not reoffended, this should not be held against him but what baffled me is that he is still being referred to as the Chief Sangha Nayaka. Should a person on the sex-offenders register be the Chief Sangha Nayaka?
It is high time we put our own house in order before fighting the external enemies. It is reported that the former president CBK has written to the Mahanayakas requesting urgent reform and we should be obliged to her for taking the lead.
There are many aspects that need urgent reform, the first being removal of caste barriers practiced by some Nikayas, which is the greatest insult to the Buddha who promoted equality. The second is the active encouragement of Bhikkhuni Sasana which has not happened in spite of the landmark ruling by the supreme court. The third is the establishment of proper disciplinary processes under a single Adhikarana Sangha Nayaka with powers and support than allowing the government to take over the control of even non-criminal Vinaya matters.
There are many other issues that need settlement like the controversy of the land of Buddha’s birth which seems to linger on. An expert committee should hear all evidence and settle this issue once and for all.
As I have pointed out on many occasions in these columns, it is high time a Dhamma Sangayana was held, as the last one was 70 years ago. Ideally, it should be different with active participation of lay experts as well. It is the duty of us Buddhists to ensure that the words of wisdom of the Buddha continue to enlighten generations to come.
By Dr Upul Wijayawardhana
Features
Vijaya Kumar: Academic, Activist & Genial Fellow-Traveller
The University of Ceylon, Peradeniya, was in our time, a less-crowded residential university, where everybody knew everybody else or at least knew of everybody else.
I knew of Emeritus Professor Vijaya Kumar of the Department of Chemistry at Peradeniya, or Kumar, as we referred to him fondly, before I got to know him. His dear wife Savitri, also a member of the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry, was nicknamed Kumee, by some of their students (of which vintage is unknown to me) and the duo were thereafter referred to affectionately as Kumar and Kumee.
The Faculty of Science became a regular haunt of mine as I would go there in the company of my batchmates to attend lectures on Basic Mathematics given by Professor Maheswaran, as it was a requirement for our General Arts Qualifying Examinations. I would also go there to listen to some excellent talks under a programme that was held in the auditorium of the Science Faculty referred to as “Popular Science Gossip”. The “gossip” at these talks were not confined solely to science but were broad enough to include Literature, History and other branches of knowledge as well. I would often spot Kumar in the audience at these talks or bump into him in the corridors of the Science Faculty. But I got to know him personally only after he became the Warden of Arunachalam, my hall of residence, during my undergraduate years initially, and later, as a member of the academic staff of the Department of English.
Our Science Faculty undergraduate contemporaries, especially those at Arunachalam Hall and its immediate neighbour, Jayatilaka Hall, both within a stone’s throw away from the Science Faculty, shared many an anecdote about Kumar and their other lecturers. One of these anecdotes, had to do with a spectacular (motor car) driving feat of Kumar’s. Legend has it that he drove from his university bungalow-home to the Faculty of Science deploying only the reverse gear of his car! Kumar, on hearing of this, had told certain of his student friends, including some who became his colleagues later on, that this story is one of the biggest yarns he had heard in his life!
Some of his one-time younger colleagues, now in retirement like Kumar, tell me that Kumar exuded warmth and friendliness in all of his professional and administrative interactions with others in the wider university community. But there was no warmth or mercy for those who indulged in the unsavoury pastime of student ‘ragging’. He was a very strong proponent of the need to ensure to all freshers an environment free of the menace of ‘ragging’. He remained ever-vigilant during the ‘ragging’ season. There are stories of his chasing ‘raggers’ and catching them. Professor Maheswaran, who later became an intimate friend and remains so after more than half a century, was another who was fiercely opposed to ‘ragging’. I was a personal witness to Mahes chasing a ‘ragger’ up and down the stairs of the main library to nab him. Yet another of his students has noted that Kumar’s office room in the Faculty was a total mess at all times. It had tables, piled so high with books and documents that one could not easily spot Kumar at his desk. He, however, had the knack of pulling out from amidst the clutter, any document that he needed at any given time. If anybody were to volunteer to help tidy his desk, Kumar would respond firmly with “Don’t you touch my desk!”.
Kumar, like several of his colleagues in the other faculties as well, had his own eccentricities. According to information received from reliable sources, Kumar who taught Organic Chemistry used to carry his lecture notes in his shirt or trouser pocket with ‘the entire lecture condensed in point form on a half-sheet or half of a half-sheet of paper’. The way he rummaged through his sling bag filled to the brim with stuff to find an item that he needed was another ritual that amused onlookers.
Kumar, interestingly enough is a Royal-cum-Thomian product, in that he had his primary education at S.Thomas’ Prep School, Kollupitiya and the entirety of his secondary education at Royal College, which he entered in 1953. In a note written by Kumar himself, he notes that despite having had excellent teachers at Royal, his was not a notable school career. He goes on to say that “the only achievement I could boast of was my being the joint-winner of the school General Knowledge Prize”. However, he had been active in a Scout Group outside of school (1st Port of Colombo, Sea Scouts) where he “was Queen’s Scout, Patrol leader, and later, Assistant Scout Master”.
Kumar entered the Faculty of Science of the University of Ceylon in 1961 and secured from it an honours degree in Chemistry in 1965. He joined the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry in the Faculty of Science, University of Ceylon, Peradeniya in 1965 and left the following year for Magdalen College at Oxford University, from which institution he obtained his doctorate in Chemistry. His entire teaching career was at Peradeniya, where in the period 2003-2006 he served as the Dean of the Faculty of Science, a position that his late father-in-law had held a few decades earlier.
Among the other highlights of his career are: Chairman of the Industrial Technology Institute (formerly the Ceylon Institute of Scientific and Industrial Research, CISIR); Member (representing Sri Lanka) of the Geneva-based UN Commission on Science and Technology from 1999 to 2007 and its President from 2001-2003; President of the Sri Lanka Estate Workers Union from 1989 onwards; Member of the Politburo of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party from 1988 to 2014 and currently, a member of the Executive Committee of the National People’s Power (NPP).
Vijaya and Savitri Kumar are parents of daughters Shamala and Ramya, who are following in the footsteps of their parents: with the former teaching in the Department of Agricultural Economics in the Faculty of Agriculture, University of Peradeniya and the latter, in the Department of Community Medicine at the University of Jaffna.
(I wish to thank the following who assisted me in the writing of this brief essay: Mr. Bandula Warnakulasuriya, Emeritus Professor Ratnayake Bandara, Professor Mahinda Wickramaratne, Professor Swarna Wimalasiri and Mr. Manik de Silva).
*Editor’s note: Prof. Vijaya Kumar, a member of the NPP’s National Executive Committee and is still active in politics turns 84 today. This article by Tissa Jayatilaka, former Executive Director of the United States – Sri Lanka Fulbright Commission for Mutual Academic Exchange, was written for an upcoming collection of essays on Kumar’s life by his friends.
(Colombo Telegraph)
By Tissa Jayatilaka
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