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An enduring legacy

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By Aditha Dissanayake

The boy held onto his father’s hand and bent his head to keep the wind from playing havoc with his already untidy hair. He wanted to raise one hand to sweep back the curls that kept falling into his eyes, but he dared not loosen the grip on the books he clutched tightly to his chest – books he had borrowed a few minutes ago from the Galle Public Library.

When they reached the Colombo road, he peered through the curls to look up at his tall, lean father. “If you finish reading them by next Saturday, we can come and return them and you can borrow two more books,” Father said, sweeping back the bothersome curls from his son’s forehead and peering into the boy’s eyes. The boy nodded and pressed the books even more tightly to his chest. He was certain he would finish reading them long before next Saturday. But he didn’t want to tell this to his father because he knew Thaththa was too busy on week days to take him to the library. But his father seemed to be reading his thoughts. “One day, when you grow up you can buy a lot of books and have a library of your own.” The boy nodded, his lips pursed in determination.

With five siblings at home, his father could not afford to spend money to buy books, but the boy was happy there were so many books in the library, and the walk from home to the library and back every Saturday was the highlight of his life. The second best thing that made the day so special was to sit next to his father on the two chairs in the front patio of their house on Richmond Hill road, each immersed in the books they had borrowed from the library. Every now and then, the boy raised his head from the book in his hand, looked at his father and daydreamed of building a library when he grew up, with all the books in the world so that he and his father need never run out of books to read. Little did he know the precious Saturdays spent with his father would soon come to an end.

The boy’s father passed away when he was 14, and the weekly visits to the library ceased. But he held on to the dream and when he grew up, he built a library, buying any book that interested him, from Richard Bach, to Somerset Maugham to Isac Asimov, to Darwin to Amavatura to the Mahavansa. Now that his father was no longer with him, he did the next best thing possible. He chose a woman who loved to read as his partner, shared his books with her and introduced the amazing, fulfilling world of books to his children. And his grandchildren.

The boy who walked home from the Galle Library, on that long forgotten Saturday is my father. The gentleman who held his hand is Albert Dissanayake, my grandfather, who left us before I ever got to see him or know him, but who continues to make a great impact on my life. It is as if I feel my grandfather’s love reaching across time and space each time I finish reading a book, and each time I hold one of my own published work in my hands. I am proud that the thread he created, by instilling the reading habit into his son, continues in our family, and will live on, in the generations to come with the grandchildren and the great grandchildren he never saw, all becoming not only avid readers but some of them, creative writers, themselves.

Looking at the years gone by, I realize, next to my parents, the books I read have been the most influential force in my life. It is my fascination with the words on the pages of books with the power to conjure brand new worlds that made me pursue a career as a writer, to try my own hand at waving a magic wand to draw readers into an imaginary world; a world that seems more real at times, than the real world we live in, right now.

I learned to uncover the deep psychological meanings behind words from Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Goncharov and Balzac. Gorky showed me the importance of learning from the lessons life offered me, while Les Misérables left my heart in shatters. I learned to be myself and ignore what the world wanted me to be from Jonathan Livingston Seagull, and that life’s rules apply to all of us regardless of our status, our wealth (or our academic qualifications), from King Lear; the strength to suppress our emotions from Ivanhoe and Newman Archer in The Age of Innocence and the beauty of love and passion from Dante, Neruda and Pushkin. Orwell and Hemingway taught me to write simple, clear prose, Michener gave me a free ticket to exotic destinations in Alaska, Hawaii and the South Pacific. Maeve Binchy and James Joyce took me to Ireland, Hardy to the countryside in Dorset, while Narayan introduced me to the aroma of fresh brewed coffee in Chennai. I learned how attorneys solved mysteries from Perry Mason and the power of a good teacher, from E. R. Braithwaite. Jerome K Jerome taught me to laugh at the absurdities in our daily lives, Murakami how not to write a novel and Jean Webster, the art of writing letters. Among a million other things from the trivia (the phrase ‘third time lucky’ from Silas Marner, and how much sailors hate barnacles from Captain Haddock) to the serious (Leonard Woolf’s Ceylon from Christopher Ondaatje, about pearls and spices of Sri Lanka from Dr. Rohan Pethiyagoda) I also learned how to cut a long story short from the short stories of Jeffrey Archer and Truman Capote.

Which means it is time to cut this long story short. But before I leave I must acknowledge the writers in the Sinhala literary canon who made a great impact on my life, most notably Martin Wickramasinghe with his Aravinda, whose decision not to study medicine influenced my own wish to say no to selecting subjects in the science stream at school. Sarathchandra’s Malagiya Aththo and all the work of Mahagama Sekera are treasure troves of hidden meanings which emerge and submerge depending on the age and the mood I am in whenever I read them while Dr. Gunadasa Amarasekera’s ‘Avuwa’ continues to give me sunstroke whenever I read his words. I also find Batuwangala Rahula Thera’s novels far superior to the works of modern Asian writers in translation which in turn inspired me to become a translator to create a niche for Sinhala literature in the canon of world literature.

I would like to end by dedicating this article to my grandfather. If not for him I would not be writing this today. And also to Old Daniel in Michener’s ‘Fires of Spring’ who taught me a long time ago about the value of books. To quote from memory, Daniel’s words, “Next to people, books are the most important thing in the world.” I am sure you agree.

aditha.dissanayake@gmail.com



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Humanitarian leadership in a time of war

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Sri Lanka Navy rescuing survivors of the US torpedo attack on IRIS Dena last week

There has been a rare consensus of opinion in the country that the government’s humanitarian response to the sinking of Iran’s naval ship IRIS Dena was the correct one. The support has spanned the party political spectrum and different sections of society. Social media commentary, statements by political parties and discussion in mainstream media have all largely taken the position that Sri Lanka acted in accordance with humanitarian principles and international law. In a period when public debate in Sri Lanka is often sharply divided, the sense of agreement on this issue is noteworthy and reflects positively on the ethos and culture of a society that cares for those in distress. A similar phenomenon was to be witnessed in the rallying of people of all ethnicities and backgrounds to help those affected by the Ditwah Cyclone in December last year.

The events that led to this situation unfolded with dramatic speed. In the early hours before sunrise the Dina made a distress call. The ship was one of three Iranian naval vessels that had taken part in a naval gathering organised by India in which more than 70 countries had participated, including Sri Lanka. Naval gatherings of this nature are intended to foster professional exchange, confidence building and goodwill between navies. They are also governed by strict protocols regarding armaments and conduct.

When the exhibition ended open war between the United States and Iran had not yet broken out. The three Iranian ships that participated in the exhibition left the Indian port and headed into international waters on their journey back home. Under the protocol governing such gatherings ships may not be equipped with offensive armaments. This left them particularly vulnerable once the regional situation changed dramatically, though the US Indo-Pacific Command insists the ship was armed. The sudden outbreak of war between the United States and Iran would have alerted the Iranian ships that they were sailing into danger. According to reports, they sought safe harbour and requested docking in Sri Lanka’s ports but before the Sri Lankan government could respond the Dena was fatally hit by a torpedo.

International Law

The sinking of the Dena occurred just outside Sri Lanka’s territorial waters. Whatever decision the Sri Lankan government made at this time was bound to be fraught with consequence. The war that is currently being fought in the Middle East is a no-holds-barred one in which more than 15 countries have come under attack. Now the sinking of the Dena so close to Sri Lanka’s maritime boundary has meant that the war has come to the very shores of the country. In times of war emotions run high on all sides and perceptions of friend and enemy can easily become distorted. Parties involved in the conflict tend to gravitate to the position that “those who are not with us are against us.” Such a mindset leaves little room for neutrality or humanitarian discretion.

In such situations countries that are not directly involved in the conflict may wish to remain outside it by avoiding engagement. Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath informed the international media that Sri Lanka’s response to the present crisis was rooted in humanitarian principles, international law and the United Nations. The Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) which was adopted 1982 provides the legal framework governing maritime conduct and obliges states to render assistance to persons in distress at sea. In terms of UNCLOS, countries are required to render help to anyone facing danger in maritime waters regardless of nationality or the circumstances that led to the emergency. Sri Lanka’s response to the distress call therefore reflects both humanitarianism and adherence to international law.

Within a short period of receiving the distress message from the stricken Iranian warship the Sri Lankan government sent its navy to the rescue. They rescued more than thirty Iranian sailors who had survived the attack and were struggling in the water. The rescue operation also brought to Sri Lanka the bodies of those who had perished when their ship sank. The scale of the humanitarian challenge is significant. Sri Lanka now has custody of more than eighty bodies of sailors who lost their lives in the sinking of the Dena. In addition, a second Iranian naval ship IRINS Bushehr with more than two hundred sailors has come under Sri Lanka’s protection. The government therefore finds itself responsible for survivors but also for the dignified treatment of the bodies of the dead Iranian sailors.

Sri Lanka’s decision to render aid based on humanitarian principles, not political allegiance, reinforces the importance of a rules-based international order for all countries. Reliance on international law is particularly important for small countries like Sri Lanka that lack the power to defend themselves against larger actors. For such countries a rules-based international order provides at least a measure of protection by ensuring that all states operate within a framework of agreed norms. Sri Lanka itself has played a notable role in promoting such norms. In 1971 the United Nations General Assembly adopted a resolution declaring the Indian Ocean a Zone of Peace. The initiative for this proposal came from Sri Lanka, which argued that the Indian Ocean should be protected from great power rivalry and militarisation.

Moral Beacon

Unfortunately, the current global climate suggests that the rules-based order is barely operative. Conflicts in different parts of the world have increasingly shown disregard for the norms and institutions that were created in the aftermath of the Second World War to regulate international behaviour. In such circumstances it becomes even more important for smaller countries to demonstrate their commitment to international law and to convert the bigger countries to adopt more humane and universal thinking. The humanitarian response to the Iranian sailors therefore needs to be seen in this wider context. By acting swiftly to rescue those in distress and by affirming that its actions are guided by international law, Sri Lanka has enhanced its reputation as a small country that values peace, humane values, cooperation and the rule of law. It would be a relief to the Sri Lankan government that earlier communications that the US government was urging Sri Lanka not to repatriate the Iranian sailors has been modified to the US publicly acknowledging the applicability of international law to what Sri Lanka does.

The country’s own experience of internal conflict has shaped public consciousness in important ways. Sri Lanka endured a violent internal war that lasted nearly three decades. During that period questions relating to the treatment of combatants, the protection of civilians, missing persons and accountability became central issues. As a result, Sri Lankans today are familiar with the provisions of international law that deal with war crimes, the treatment of wounded or disabled combatants and the fate of those who go missing in conflict. The country continues to host an international presence in the form of UN agencies and the ICRC that work with the government on humanitarian and post conflict issues. The government needs to apply the same principled commitment of humanitarianism and the rule of law to the unresolved issues from Sri Lanka’s own civil war, including accountability and reconciliation.

By affirming humanitarian principles and acting accordingly towards the Iranian sailors and their ship Sri Lanka has become a moral beacon for peace and goodwill in a world that often appears to be moving in the opposite direction. At a time when geopolitical rivalries are intensifying and humanitarian norms are frequently ignored, such actions carry symbolic significance. The credibility of Sri Lanka’s moral stance abroad will be further enhanced by its ability to uphold similar principles at home. Sri Lanka continues to grapple with unresolved issues arising from its own internal conflict including questions of accountability, justice, reparations and reconciliation. It has a duty not only to its own citizens, but also to suffering humanity everywhere. Addressing its own internal issues sincerely will strengthen Sri Lanka’s moral standing in the international community and help it to be a force for a new and better world.

BY Jehan Perera

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Language: The symbolic expression of thought

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It was Henry Sweet, the English phonetician and language scholar, who said, “Language may be defined as the expression of thought by means of speech sounds“. In today’s context, where language extends beyond spoken sounds to written text, and even into signs, it is best to generalise more and express that language is the “symbolic expression of thought“. The opposite is also true: without the ability to think, there will not be a proper development of the ability to express in a language, as seen in individuals with intellectual disability.

Viewing language as the symbolic expression of thought is a philosophical way to look at early childhood education. It suggests that language is not just about learning words; it is about a child learning that one thing, be it a sound, a scribble, or a gesture, can represent something else, such as an object, a feeling, or an idea. It facilitates the ever-so-important understanding of the given occurrence rather than committing it purely to memory. In the world of a 0–5-year-old, this “symbolic leap” of understanding is the single most important cognitive milestone.

Of course, learning a language or even more than one language is absolutely crucial for education. Here is how that viewpoint fits into early life education:

1. From Concrete to Abstract

Infants live in a “concrete” world: if they cannot see it or touch it, it does not exist. Early education helps them to move toward symbolic thought. When a toddler realises that the sound “ball” stands for that round, bouncy thing in the corner, they have decoded a symbol. Teachers and parents need to facilitate this by connecting physical objects to labels constantly. This is why “Show and Tell” is a staple of early education, as it gently compels the child to use symbols, words or actions to describe a tangible object to others, who might not even see it clearly.

2. The Multi-Modal Nature of Symbols

Because language is “symbolic,” it does not matter how exactly it is expressed. The human brain treats spoken words, written text, and sign language with similar neural machinery.

Many educators advocate the use of “Baby Signs” (simple gestures) before a child can speak. This is powerful because it proves the child has the thought (e.g., “I am hungry”) and can use a symbol like putting the hand to the mouth, before their vocal cords are physically ready to produce the word denoting hunger.

Writing is the most abstract symbol of all: it is a squiggle written on a page, representing a sound, which represents an idea or a thought. Early childhood education prepares children for this by encouraging “emergent writing” (scribbling), even where a child proudly points to a messy circle that the child has drawn and says, “This says ‘I love Mommy’.”

3. Symbolic Play (The Dress Rehearsal)

As recognised in many quarters, play is where this theory comes to life. Between ages 2 and 3, children enter the Symbolic Play stage. Often, there is object substitution, as when a child picks up a banana and holds it to his or her ear like a telephone. In effect, this is a massive intellectual achievement. The child is mentally “decoupling” the object from its physical reality and assigning it a symbolic meaning. In early education, we need to encourage this because if a child can use a block as a “car,” they are developing the mental flexibility required to later understand that the letter “C” stands for the sound of “K” as well.

4. Language as a Tool for “Internal Thought”

Perhaps the most fascinating fit is the work of psychologist Lev Vygotsky, who argued that language eventually turns inward to become private speech. Have you ever seen a 4-year-old talking to himself or herself while building a toy tower? “No, the big one goes here….. the red one goes here…. steady… there.” That is a form of self-regulation. Educators encourage this “thinking out loudly.” It is the way children use the symbol system of language to organise their own thoughts and solve problems. Eventually, this speech becomes silent as “inner thought.”

Finally, there is the charming thought of the feasibility of conversing with very young children in two or even three or more languages. In Sri Lanka, the three main languages are Sinhala, Tamil and English. There are questions asked as to whether it is OK to talk to little ones in all three languages or even in two, so that they would learn?

According to scientific authorities, the short, clear and unequivocal answer to that query is that not only is it “OK”, it is also a significant cognitive gift to a child.

In a trilingual environment like Sri Lanka, many parents worry that multiple languages will “confuse” a child or cause a “speech delay.” However, modern neuroscience has debunked these myths. The infant brain is perfectly capable of building three or even more separate “lexicons” (vocabularies) simultaneously.

Here is how the “symbolic expression of thought” works in a multilingual brain and how we can manage it effectively.

a). The “Multiple Labels” Phenomenon

In a monolingual home, a child learns one symbol for an object. For example, take the word “Apple.” In a Sri Lankan trilingual home, the child learns three symbols for that same thought:

* Apple (English)

* Apal

(Sinhala – ඇපල්)

* Appil

(Tamil – ஆப்பிள்)

Because the trilingual child learns that one “thought” can be expressed by multiple “symbols,” the child’s brain becomes more flexible. This is why bilingual and trilingual children often score higher on tasks involving “executive function”, meaning the ability to switch focus and solve complex problems.

b). Is there a “Delay”?

(The Common Myth)

One might notice that a child in a trilingual home may start to speak slightly later than a monolingual peer, or they might have a smaller vocabulary in each language at age two.

However, if one adds up the total number of words they know across all three languages, they are usually ahead of monolingual children. By age five, they typically catch up in all languages and possess a much more “plastic” and adaptable brain.

c). Strategies for Success: How to Do It?

To help the child’s brain organise these three symbol systems, it helps to have some “consistency.” Here are the two most effective methods:

* One Person, One Language (OPOL), the so-called “gold standard” for multilingual families.

Amma

speaks only Sinhala, while the Father speaks only English, and the Grandparents or Nanny speak only Tamil. The child learns to associate a specific language with a specific person. Their brain creates a “map”: “When I talk to Amma, I use these sounds; when I talk to Thaththa, I use those,” etc.

*

Situational/Contextual Learning. If the parents speak all three, one could divide languages by “environment”: English at the dinner table, Sinhala during play and bath time and Tamil when visiting relatives or at the market.

These, of course, need NOT be very rigid rules, but general guidance, applied judiciously and ever-so-kindly.

d). “Code-Mixing” is Normal

We need not be alarmed if a 3-year-old says something like: “Ammi, I want that palam (fruit).” This is called Code-Mixing. It is NOT a sign of confusion; it is a sign of efficiency. The child’s brain is searching for the quickest way to express a thought and grabs the most “available” word from their three language cupboards. As they get older, perhaps around age 4 or 5, they will naturally learn to separate them perfectly.

e). The “Sri Lankan Advantage”

Growing up trilingual in Sri Lanka provides a massive social and cognitive advantage.

For a start, there will be Cultural Empathy. Language actually carries culture. A child who speaks Sinhala, Tamil, and English can navigate all social spheres of the country quite effortlessly.

In addition, there are the benefits of a Phonetic Range. Sinhala and Tamil have many sounds that do not exist in English (and even vice versa). Learning these as a child wires the ears to hear and reproduce almost any human sound, making it much easier to learn more languages (like French or Japanese) later in life.

As an abiding thought, it is the considered opinion of the author that a trilingual Sri Lanka will go a long way towards the goals and display of racial harmony, respect for different ethnic groups, and unrivalled national coordination in our beautiful Motherland. Then it would become a utopian heaven, where all people, as just Sri Lankans, can live in admirable concordant synchrony, rather than as splintered clusters divided by ethnicity, language and culture.

A Helpful Summary Checklist for Parents

* Do Not Drop a Language:

If you stop speaking Tamil because you are worried about English, the child loses that “neural real estate.” Keep all three languages going.

* High-Quality Input:

Do not just use “commands” (Eat! Sleep!). Use the Parentese and Serve and Return methods (mentioned in an earlier article) in all the languages.

* Employ Patience:

If the little one mixes up some words, just model the right words and gently correct the sentence and present it to the child like a suggestion, without scolding or finding fault with him or her. The child will then learn effortlessly and without resentment or shame.

by Dr b. J. C. Perera

MBBS(Cey), DCH(Cey), DCH(Eng), MD(Paediatrics), MRCP(UK), FRCP(Edin), FRCP(Lond), FRCPCH(UK), FSLCPaed, FCCP, Hony.
FRCPCH(UK), Hony. FCGP(SL)

Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow, Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka

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SIMPSON’S … set to carve a distinct sonic identity

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SIMPSON’S: Quite active in the scene here

It is, indeed, encouraging to see our local artistes working on new formats, where their music is concerned.

Variety is the spice of life, they say, and I do agree, especially when it comes to music.

Blending modern synth textures, ambient layers and soulful undertones, the group SIMPSON’S is set to carve a distinct sonic identity within Sri Lanka’s contemporary music landscape.

Their vision, they say, is not simply to produce songs, but to create emotional atmospheres – experiences that elevate, energise and resonate, both locally and beyond.

This four-piece outfit came into the scene, less than two years ago, and they are already making waves with their debut single ‘Balaporottuwak’ (Hope).

The song, I’m told, marks the beginning of a new sound, and at the forefront of ‘Balaporottuwak’ is the group’s lead vocalist and guitarist, Ryo Hera, who brings a rich cultural heritage to the stage.

As a professional Kandyan Wes dancer, Ryo’s commanding presence and textured vocals bring a distinct energy to the band’s sound.

‘Balaporottuwak’

Ryo Hera: Vocals for ‘Balaporottuwak’

is more than just a debut single – it’s a declaration of intent. The band is merging tradition and modernity, power and subtlety, to create a sound that’s both authentic and innovative.

With this song, SIMPSON’S is inviting listeners to join them on an evolving musical journey, one that’s built on vision and creativity.

The recording process for ‘Balaporottuwak’ was organic and instinctive, with the band shaping the song through live studio sessions.

Dileepa Liyanage, the keyboardist and composer, is the principal sound mind behind SIMPSON’S.

With experience spanning background scores, commercial projects, cinematic themes and jingles across multiple genres, Dileepa brings structural finesse and atmospheric depth to the band’s arrangements.

He described the recording process of ‘Balaporottuwak’ as organic and instinctive: “When Ryo Hera opens his voice, it becomes effortless to shape it into any musical colour. The tone naturally adapts.”

The band’s lineup includes Buddhima Chalanu on bass, and Savidya Yasaru on drums, and, together, they create a sound that’s not just a reflection of their individual talents, but a collective vision.

Dileepa Liyanage: Brings
structural finesse and
atmospheric depth to the
band’s arrangements

What sets SIMPSON’S apart is their decision to keep the production in-house – mixing and mastering the song themselves. This allows them to maintain their unique sound and artistic autonomy.

“We work as a family and each member is given the freedom to work out his music on the instruments he handles and then, in the studio, we put everything together,” said Dileepa, adding that their goal is to release an album, made up of Sinhala and English songs.

Steering this creative core is manager Mangala Samarajeewa, whose early career included managing various international artistes. His guidance has positioned SIMPSON’S not merely as a performing unit, but as a carefully envisioned project – one aimed at expanding Sri Lanka’s contemporary music vocabulary.

SIMPSON’S are quite active in the scene here, performing, on a regular basis, at popular venues in Colombo, and down south, as well.

They are also seen, and heard, on Spotify, TikTok, Apple Music, iTunes, and Deezer.

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