Features
A Bilingual Public Sphere of Visual Art Criticism:
SCRAP BOOK OF CHANDRAJEEWA – Part II
by Laleen Jayamanne
Shirani Rajapakse’s short piece has a delicious bit of visual analysis which brings out the playful nature of Sarath’s mati wada, that most folk of craft practices, loved instinctively by many Lankans. She says, ‘the quaint ornamental structure in the picture looks very much like a bird-house, but it’s not [….] It is a lamp stand which the designer says he was inspired to make after seeing the lamps lighted by many and placed in their gardens as a mark of respect for the gods. My friend and colleague Sarath (who I have never met or talked to), gives me the impression of being a very serious, quiet person.
Therefore, ‘playful’ is not a term I associate with his work that I have studied. But when Shirani described her doubled perception of the lamp stand also as a bird house, what came to my mind were his clay toys, the owl and the pussy cat are delightful, but I found his ornamented clay fish a bit disturbing. The fish, with one large eye has its mouth open to either breath or smile (hovering in between the two), but it’s full of fierce Pirana like large sharp teeth, bared. And whenever I re-see it, I smile again, but also see at the same time its mouth full of large murderously sharp teeth such as I have never seen in a fish.
Then I realised that Lankan mati wada must be replete with folk humour, violence and imagination, which is robust and varied in the folk ritual performance modes and masks I am familiar with. The writers understand the importance of Dankotuwa for the tile industry which gets its clay from that region when they situate Sarath in that milieu, to show how he innovates on this traditional craft by experimenting with the more durable red tile clay to make his earthenware pieces.
The late Charith Pelpola is the critic who, I think, writes most profoundly of Sarath’s red earthenware pots and of their painterly qualities, seeing in one pot the colours of nature of pealing bark, for example. He describes how colour is created through experimental firing techniques, which makes Sarath a modern artist, drawing from tradition, but also departing from it decisively, without severing that ‘nourishing umbilical cord’, as AJ might say. Charith was a wildlife photographer who preferred to spend his time in the forest and a poet, gone much too soon. His prose is delicate, nuanced. He also photographed some of these pots for the book on Sarath, Path of Visual Arts (2005), which images are a consolation in the absence of the originals.
I won’t provide more examples of the excellent critical work preserved in this volume, but hope that I have been able to arouse some curiosity in the reader to seek it out, so that new histories (in the plural), of the 90s might be written without self-interest as the main driver. And also, simply to learn the craft of interviewing and writing, so as to engage the mind of the reader with respect, imaginatively.
We academics can learn heaps from good journalists because they are very disciplined in their awareness of time (in minutes and seconds) and space (column inches)! and appear to be more careful with words than we verbose academics, enamoured of ‘Theory’, creating bubbles. Let’s burst them, they are just soap! Don’t get me wrong. Some continental schools of thought are essential for my teaching and researching film and art and many of our students at Sydney University’s Art History and Film Dept. have a voracious appetite for ideas and theories which they seek out. I saw this very thing happening during the Aragalaya thanks to the internet. That excitement requires dedicated, systematic work over years to be of use.
But it’s certainly possible to introduce Benjamin (or anyone), briefly (also mentioning that he was a German Jew writing in the context of the rise of the Nazi party), if a little home work is done first. And to begin with, when addressing people in the public sphere with a mixed audience, at the very least, it’s essential to say, for example, who ‘Walter Benjamin’ was in the context of the ‘Frankfurt school of Critical Theory’ of the mid-20th Century. At the very least, one must introduce and situate a thinker respectfully, like we say in Sinhala when we are introduced to a stranger: ‘me kaude? (Who is this?) Kage kaude? (Whose who is s/he or who is s/he connected with?) Kinde manda?’ (So, what’s s/he on about?), as first steps in intellectual public speech.
If, for example, it was noted that Benjamin was a close friend of Brecht’s and that he wrote a series of essays (Understanding Brecht), defending and explaining his novel idea of ‘Epic Theatre’ (when it was subject to criticism by the progressive German left), it would certainly have helped, for the obvious reason that Brecht is a beloved playwright in Lanka. A critic must create the conditions for open receptivity of ideas. And it is crucial when introducing any concept or idea, to do so with a degree of precision and explain why it’s useful, relevant in that particular context to understand something.
The Bourgeoise Public Sphere of the 18th Century
Before I end, let me say a few words about the derivation of the concept of ‘the public sphere’ in my title. It’s a political idea as theorised by the thinkers of the Frankfurt School of Social Research, Benjamin, Adorno and others, including Habermas who is still alive. Here’s a potted account. The public sphere is the product of the 18th Century European Enlightenment. ‘Bourgeoise’ derived from ‘Bourg’ means the city in French.
So, it’s in the urban centres of European cities that an educated professional and business middle class first emerged, well before the French Revolution separated the public sphere from the control of the Church and the State. With the creation of the press and a journal culture and leisure, conversation on art and politics flourished in coffee houses where new democratic values were discussed. But the separation of the home from the public sphere meant that most bourgeoise women were stuck at home with children, in a private domestic sphere, with domestic ‘servants’ for help. So, the public sphere was largely male even in the 19th century, with most women having very limited access to professional education until the mid-1890s.
The ‘Third Estate’ is the term for this rising middle-class in the French parliament before the revolution, and the ‘Fourth Estate’ became the free press, to express diverse opinions and ideas and news. With industrialisation and modernisation this exclusive class structure changed with mass education, literacy and mass culture. Crucially, the democratic public sphere then included the urban working classes working classes as also consumers, especially of film.
An Australian Feminist Public Sphere: 70s and 80s
I have an impression that, while there are many women speaking publicly in Sinhala on the arts in Lanka, the theoretical discourses are still wielded by a few men (I stand happily corrected here too), as I am a distant observer-participant. This was exactly the case in Australia in the 70s when we began to read what then was called ‘French Theory,’ in translation. It was the case that a few men dominated art forums and spun theory with ease, using obscurantist language, often culled freely from, for example, Jacque Derrida’s philosophy, among others.
His use of language was especially easy to parrot like a manthra. It was intimidating when this happened in Australia, though we were all studying this stuff at the University, in the late 70s and 80s. The men wrote for the art press in an obfuscating theoretical jargon. Their lack of deep contextual understanding, covered up by the jargon, didn’t stop them from speaking in public with a certain masculine bravado. Some were seduced. They created followers. Male narcissism knew no limits.
But our independent public sphere of cinema in Australia changed once some female scholars educated in France returned (having actually studied with some of the major philosophers such as Deleuze, Foucault, Lacan and others), and translated their stuff while worked in both the main stream media as journalists, film reviewers and in the University as casual lecturers, formulating new courses to study this material systematically. They began to write, using the ‘difficult French Theory’, even in the popular press, in a lively prose which made it both accessible and engaging.
They taught us by giving us tools to analyse the rhetoric of ‘male theory-speak’ to see through its tactics, which were undemocratic because mystifying. In contrast, these women used language not as a weapon of seduction and control, but as a means to make ideas accessible. We never looked back, and since then, female intellectuals in Australia, due to many other reasons as well, have become confident and publicly articulate in significant numbers.
I recount this Australian story here as a little parable for the feminist writers and speakers working in the vernacular public sphere of visual culture in Lanka. As a feminist elder I say, do not feed male narcissism of intellectuals (a bottomless well), and allow them to dumb yourself down in the process. Enjoy teaching yourself and others and speaking in public with flare and intelligence and in this way a democratic public sphere of visual culture will be nourished.
Don’t feel shy if you slip up every now and then make a fool of yourself, just get up and brush yourself like Chaplin, and do it again and again if you must, so you get practiced. I’ve been there many times. Ouch! Each time, I had the feeling I got a bit stronger. But we know we can’t do this alone, we need likeminded women and men too.
A respected Lankan academic retiring back home after a career overseas (having reinvented himself as an ‘Asian Film Specialist’ which is how I met him) gave a lecture on Derrida once, which may have been an early example of this trend of fetishizing Theory. He spun bits and pieces of ‘Derridean theory’ which didn’t make any sense to me. There were Sinhala specialist words I didn’t understand but I understood the main thrust.
This specialist (true to a dark Sri Lankan academic trait) tried to obstruct the publication of a book of mine as one of the three readers of my manuscript on The Epic Cinema of Kumar Shahani (Indiana University Press, 2015, 300 pages). His reader’s report stated that I must ‘revise and resubmit’ the text, with further research as outlined by him! Perhaps he didn’t understand my work.
But I did correct the spelling of the Pali word (‘Dhamma Dweepa’) as pointed out by him. The other two readers, one an Indian media scholar from the US and the other an English scholar of Hindi Cinema said that the manuscript was ready to go to press! I had the pleasure of formally rebutting my compatriot’s intellectually feeble report (my democratic right), which the press accepted.
I recall this nasty, intellectually indefensible act today, just a few days after Kumar Shahani (my guru and one of the great visionary film directors of India), passed away at the age of 83. His very first words to me, when I called him to say my book was out, were: ‘Is there something of yourself in it?’ I feel that my book made him happy, the only one so far on his profound and delicate oeuvre of seven films.
We didn’t talk about it. There was no need to. He took great care of me over the decade and more of researching this book, learning about India a little from him. He kept in touch with me, I sought his advice while writing my piece for the Island on Sarath’s book on Karaikkal Ammaiyar of Polonnaruwa, but my last email remained unanswered … but he is present as a shadow guiding me in what I write.
Two women critics I heard recently, speaking (in Matale and Melbourne, in Sinhala), on Manuwarna’s Whispering Mountains, were both fluent and highly sophisticated in their ability to intermesh politics, aesthetics, and also able to evoke the memory of existential dread of that era of national sate violence and shame. It was utterly moving. They made me long to see the film, which is what good criticism can do. That’s on my short list for the next life, if there is one!
To come back to Sarath – I will leave you with his response to Chamila Somirathna’s probing enquiry:
“A sculptor is always a painter but a painter cannot always be a sculptor’.
Go figure!
Features
Matrimony in crisis: Economic volatility, youth outflow, and changing fabric of Sri Lankan families – I
by Prof. M. W. Amarasiri de Silva
Sri Lanka’s official crude divorce rate is among the lowest in the world, sitting at roughly 0.15 divorces per 1,000 people per year, which translates to about nine legally finalised divorces, daily, nationwide. However, legal scholars and sociologists emphasise that this figure does not reflect a lack of marital distress or separation. Instead, the low official number is primarily a result of the country’s stringent legal framework, complex judicial procedures, and deep-seated socio-cultural factors that prevent couples from seeking formal legal dissolutions.
A primary driver of the low official rate is Sri Lanka’s fault-based legal framework under general civil law. Unlike jurisdictions that allow “no-fault” divorce or swift mutual consent dissolutions, Sri Lankan civil law requires a petitioning spouse to legally prove specific statutory grounds in court, such as adultery, malicious desertion, or incurable impotence present at the time of marriage. Proving these fault grounds often leads to protracted, emotionally exhausting, and financially draining court battles, discouraging many individuals from pursuing a final decree. Furthermore, personal status matters for Muslim Sri Lankans are governed separately under the Quazi court system via the Muslim Marriage and Divorce Act, which operates under distinct statutory procedures.
Because navigating the formal legal system is so cumbersome and costly, hundreds of couples choose informal separation rather than court litigation. Living apart without legally dissolving the marriage on paper remains a common alternative, meaning official marriage registries undercount the true rate of domestic breakdown. Additionally, strong cultural norms, family expectations, economic dependencies, and social stigma—particularly affecting women—exert significant pressure on spouses to remain legally married even when cohabitation has permanently ceased.
Sri Lanka and other countries
Comparing Sri Lanka, India, and the United States reveals stark contrasts in divorce rates, legal frameworks, and societal attitudes toward marital dissolution. Statistically, Sri Lanka reports an official crude divorce rate of approximately 0.15 divorces per 1,000 people, annually, while India reports a rate of roughly 1 per 1,000. In contrast, the United States records a significantly higher crude divorce rate of around 2.5 per 1,000 people, with roughly 40% to 45% of first marriages ending in divorce. However, these figures reflect distinct judicial mechanisms and cultural expectations rather than a simple measure of marital harmony.
The primary legal distinction lies in the availability of “no-fault” divorce mechanisms. All 50 US.states allow no-fault divorce, enabling either party to dissolve a marriage by citing irreconcilable differences without assigning blame. India occupies a middle ground, where major personal law codes—such as the Hindu Marriage Act—permit divorce by mutual consent, provided the couple undergoes a court-mandated waiting period intended for potential reconciliation. Sri Lanka maintains the most restrictive regime among the three, requiring a petitioning spouse under general civil law to prove specific statutory faults, such as adultery or malicious desertion, through formal adversarial court proceedings.
Pluralistic personal law systems also shape how marital disputes are handled in South Asia compared to North America. Both Sri Lanka and India apply distinct personal status laws, based on religious or ethnic identity, such as Kandyan and Muslim laws in Sri Lanka, or Hindu, Muslim, and Christian personal codes in India. In contrast, the US relies strictly on uniform state civil codes for property division, spousal maintenance, and child custody, eliminating religious adjudication from the legal process.
Official divorce rates in Sri Lanka and India significantly undercount actual marital breakdowns. High legal costs, protracted court battles, and strong social stigma often lead estranged couples in both South Asian nations to choose informal, permanent separation over formal legal proceedings. In the United States, clear statutory procedures for asset distribution and custody arrangements encourage individuals to formally conclude their marriages through the judicial system rather than living in legal limbo.
Unmarried Sri Lankans
Data from the Department of Census and Statistics reveals that the proportion of the population that has never married has risen dramatically to over 40 percent. This shift reflects a major demographic transition characterised by delayed marriages, changing socio-economic priorities, and economic instability that has led many young adults to postpone or forego marriage altogether.
While both men and women are increasingly remaining unmarried, the trend manifests differently across genders due to distinct socio-demographic factors. Men generally marry at an older age than women—with the average age at first marriage rising toward 29 years for men compared to around 25 to 26 years for women. As a result, in younger adult cohorts, a noticeably higher percentage of men remain single at any given time.
Conversely, a different demographic dynamic affects women in older age cohorts. Sri Lanka exhibits a distinct gender imbalance in its total population, with women outnumbering men—there are roughly 93 males for every 100 females nationwide. This imbalance, combined with higher female life expectancy and significant labour migration of men seeking overseas employment, creates a structural shortage of eligible partners for women in certain age groups, contributing to a growing number of women remaining unmarried or living alone in later life.
The marriage expectations and ages by gender can be inferred through matrimonial advertisements in newspapers. Matrimonial advertisements, published in leading Sri Lankan weekend newspapers, offer a revealing look into the country’s shifting demographic trends and evolving marital preferences. These classified sections, traditionally placed by parents or family elders, rather than the individuals themselves, reflect a structured marriage market where personal expectations, economic security, and socio-cultural compatibility intersect.
The age profile of individuals advertised in these columns mirrors the broader national trend toward delayed marriage. For women, the typical age range featured in listings spans from 24 to 32 years, while for men, advertisers generally range between 28 and 38 years. Furthermore, advertisements for individuals in their late thirties, forties, or older have become increasingly common, particularly in notices seeking secondary marriages following a legal divorce or the loss of a spouse. The concentration of listings in older age brackets highlights how higher educational pursuits, career establishment, and economic challenges have pushed marriage further into adulthood.
Horoscope compatibility
Expectations detailed in newspapers emphasise a combination of traditional socio-cultural criteria and modern status indicators. Horoscope compatibility remains a fundamental requirement across a large majority of listings, alongside considerations of caste, religion, and regional background. Personal character is heavily weighted, with advertisements for men frequently specifying a desire for non-smoking, non-drinking partners, while descriptions for women routinely emphasise moral standing, domestic capability, and physical attributes.
Socio-economic standing and professional qualifications serve as primary benchmarks in prospective partner selection. Listings placed by women’s families heavily prioritise male suitors with secure employment in established sectors, such as medicine, engineering, law, management, or government service, alongside evidence of financial stability or asset ownership. Advertisements for men similarly seek educated and career-minded partners, though often balancing professional credentials with traditional family values. Notably, both publications feature a substantial proportion of listings placed by or seeking non-resident Sri Lankans and dual citizens, reflecting the strong pull of foreign residency and international mobility as desirable attributes in prospective matches.
Horoscope matching and dowry expectations in Sri Lankan matrimonial advertisements reflect a delicate interplay between longstanding cultural traditions and modern socio-economic realities. These two elements serve as primary filtering mechanisms during the initial stages of family-mediated matchmaking, helping families gauge spiritual alignment, family background, and long-term economic compatibility.
Horoscope compatibility remains a nearly indispensable prerequisite across a vast majority of Sinhala and Hindu marriage notices. Advertisements routinely include explicit phrases such as “send copy of horoscope with reply” or “astrologically compatible match sought,” underscoring the belief that planetary positions at birth dictate marital longevity, health, and mutual prosperity. Families often consult professional astrologers (nakath karayo) to compare charts (Janma-pathra) before engaging in direct personal meetings. Beyond general alignment, specific astrological conditions—such as Kuja Dosha or planetary placements associated with delayed marriage—are actively declared or sought out to ensure balanced pairings, making astrological clearance the first major gatekeeper in the proposal process.
Dowry expectations
Dowry expectations have undergone a significant transformation in contemporary Sri Lanka, evolving from explicit demands for wealth into subtle indicators of financial security and asset sharing. While direct references to cash or specific dowry amounts have largely disappeared from modern newspaper classifieds due to changing social norms, advertisements routinely signal material contributions through references to family assets. Listings placed by a bride’s family frequently highlight inherited residential properties, land parcels, vehicles, or substantial financial savings, framed positively as background assets rather than a mandatory transaction. Conversely, advertisements placed by grooms’ families often emphasise secure professional income and housing ownership, establishing an expectation of shared socio-economic parity between both lineages.
Ultimately, the portrayal of horoscopes and dowry in matrimonial advertisements illustrates how Sri Lankan families preserve traditional cultural safeguards while adapting to contemporary legal and economic environments. Horoscopes continue to function as an essential spiritual and psychological reassurance of harmony, while evolving dowry practices reflect a mutual investment strategy focused on helping young couples navigate modern economic pressures and establish financial stability.
Digital matrimonial platforms
Digital matrimonial platforms, dedicated matchmaking websites, and social media networks are reshaping traditional matchmaking practices in Sri Lanka. While the core objectives—securing compatible, stable, and family-approved partnerships—remain consistent, the shift to digital infrastructure has decentralised the matchmaking process, giving individuals greater agency while altering how personal data and socio-economic expectations are presented.
Specialised digital matrimony sites, such as Poruwa.lk and Matchmaker.lk, have modernised print classifieds by replacing brevity with structured digital profiles. Unlike newspaper advertisements, which are constrained by line limits and word costs, digital profiles allow candidates, or their families, to upload detailed personal biographies, verified educational certificates, career histories, and multiple photographs. Privacy controls on platforms, like Poruwa.lk, allow users to restrict photo visibility and obscure contact details until a mutual interest is established, offering safety and discretion that public newspaper columns cannot provide.
Social media platforms, particularly dedicated Facebook groups and WhatsApp channels, have democratised proposal exchanges across urban and rural demographics alike. These informal digital groups allow families and self-registering candidates to post notices directly without incurring publishing fees or relying on commercial matchmaking brokers. The interactive nature of social media enables direct messaging between interested parties, reducing the initial lag time typical of postal or phone responses generated by newspaper listings.
Digital matchmaking has also transformed how traditional criteria like horoscopes and dowry assets are handled. Many online platforms integrate digital horoscope software directly into their search filters, enabling automated chart matching before contact is initiated. Similarly, asset preferences are often communicated through structured fields detailing property ownership, foreign residency status, or career mobility, rendering explicit dowry discussions obsolete. By streamlining preliminary vetting, digital platforms allow Sri Lankans, especially young professionals and expatriates, to balance traditional familial expectations with modern efficiency.
Family-mediated marriages
While subtle differences exist in framing, with a popular English weekly in Sri Lanka leaning toward urban, English-speaking, and expatriate circles, and its Sinhala counterpart serving a wider Sinhala-speaking demographic, both mediums demonstrate that family-mediated marriage in Sri Lanka remains deeply anchored in structured compatibility, educational status, and long-term financial security.
Socio-economic factors also drive these decisions differently across genders. For many men, the financial burden of establishing an independent household, securing stable employment, and meeting traditional expectations of financial provision causes prolonged delays in marriage. For women, expanded educational attainment and changing lifestyle expectations mean that marriage is increasingly viewed alongside career goals or personal independence, rather than as an immediate or mandatory life milestone.
The severe economic volatility and escalating inflation experienced in Sri Lanka have acted as direct catalysts in altering traditional family planning and delaying marriage. Establishing a new household requires significant upfront capital, including funding wedding ceremonies, housing deposits, and securing household goods. With sharp rises in the cost of living and persistent real wage stagnation, young adults face immense financial barriers, prompting couples to postpone marriage or avoid formal marital commitments until economic conditions stabilise. (To be continued)
Features
What nature knows that humanity has forgotten
by Dr Debapriya Mukherjee
Former Senior Scientist
Central Pollution Control Board
Human beings often treat nature as an unlimited storehouse, clearing forests, polluting rivers and degrading soil for immediate gain. Animals and plants, without environmental policies or scientific knowledge, survive through relationships with their surroundings and other forms of life. An elephant needs connected habitats; a bee depends on flowers; a tree supports organisms while drawing nutrients from the soil. Humans can understand these connections, yet too often act as if their consequences did not concern us.
Elephants remind us that habitats cannot survive as isolated islands. Elephants disperse seeds and shape vegetation through feeding. Roads, railway lines, mines and settlements can obstruct their movements, increasing the risk of accidents and encounters with people. An elephant entering a village may reflect not only animal behaviour but also habitat fragmentation or changes in access to food and water. Protecting elephants therefore means conserving the corridors connecting essential habitats, not merely preserving separate patches of forest.
Vultures reveal the value of nature’s unsung services. These scavengers consume carcasses and help remove decaying animal material. India’s vulture crisis, linked particularly to exposure to the veterinary drug diclofenac, showed how a chemical used for one purpose can disrupt a distant ecological process. A creature often dismissed as unattractive may perform a service whose loss has far-reaching consequences.
Bees and bats reveal the biological foundations of food security. Bees pollinate many crops and wild plants. Certain bats also pollinate flowers, disperse seeds or consume insects. Habitat destruction, pesticide exposure and loss of food sources can threaten these contributions. Agricultural success cannot be judged by yield alone; the health of pollinators and the wider landscape also matter.
- Frog
- Bee
Frogs can warn us of environmental disturbance. Many amphibians have permeable skin and depend on both aquatic and terrestrial habitats. Some populations are sensitive to pollution, pesticides, habitat loss and disease. Frogs also consume insects and provide food for birds, snakes and other animals. Their decline does not identify a particular pollutant by itself, but it can warrant investigation. A pond may still hold water while losing important elements of ecological health.
Earthworms and termites reveal the living world beneath our feet. Earthworms contribute to soil structure and organic-matter decomposition. Termites recycle plant material and influence soil formation in many environments. Alongside fungi and bacteria, these organisms sustain processes essential to soil health. This matters to agriculture: applying cow dung or vermicompost does not guarantee a good crop if soil conditions and nutrient requirements are unknown. Agricultural inputs should be chosen according to soil properties, water availability and crop needs.

“Elephants remind us that habitats cannot survive as isolated islands. Elephants disperse seeds and shape vegetation through feeding. roads, railway lines, mines and settlements can obstruct their movements, increasing the risk of accidents and encounters with people.” (A file photo by picture by Dilum Alagiyawanna.)
Fig trees and native grasses show why conservation must respect each habitat’s character. Many fig species depend on specialised fig wasps for pollination, while their fruits feed birds, bats and other animals. Native grasses provide food and shelter for insects, birds and grazing animals. Planting trees everywhere is therefore not necessarily ecological restoration. Converting natural grasslands into tree plantations can damage habitats adapted to open landscapes. Conservation must protect the ecosystem suited to each place, not simply increase tree numbers.
Mangroves and wetland plants provide natural protection. Mangroves support wildlife, trap sediments in suitable conditions and can reduce wave energy and coastal erosion. Wetlands store water, provide habitat and cycle nutrients; some also help moderate flooding. Neither can prevent every cyclone or flood, but destroying these systems without assessing their functions may increase risks and the cost of protecting communities.
Nature is not a world of perfect cooperation. Predators hunt prey, plants compete for sunlight, and organisms sometimes harm one another. Its lesson lies instead in interdependence, environmental limits and the consequences of disruption.
Development is often measured through roads built, buildings completed and economic returns. These achievements matter, but the picture is incomplete when ecological damage is ignored or its costs are transferred to other communities. Science enables us to examine impacts before approving projects, protect wildlife corridors before they are severed, test soil before choosing inputs and assess wetlands before filling them. Knowledge, however, protects nature only when it influences decisions.
Nature does not ask humanity to abandon progress. It asks us to distinguish genuine progress from activities that destroy their own ecological foundations. A vulture, frog, bat, termite or fig tree may seem insignificant in isolation; their importance emerges through the processes they sustain.
The living world offers no simple moral sermon, but a scientific truth: a civilisation that neglects the ecological relationships sustaining life ultimately undermines its own future.
Features
Man Behind the Music: Ananda Ganegoda and Singlanka
A tribute to the man who believed Sri Lankan music deserved the very best
by Vindana Ariyawansa
Some people build companies. Others build institutions that outlive them. When Ananda Ganegoda passed away last week at the age of 81, he left behind something far larger than a business: a cultural landmark whose logo sits on the cassette shelves of countless Sri Lankan homes, and whose songs many of us grew up with without knowing the man who made them possible.
For decades, his name and Singlanka were one and the same. Both stand for the belief that Sri Lankan music deserved the highest standard of quality in its content, its production and its presentation.
“Singlanka: the symbol of excellence in creation and of priceless perfection in finish!”
That was the promise printed in the company’s advertising, and Ananda Ganegoda spent his life trying to keep it.
A friendship that changed a life
In the 1970s, Ganegoda was already a successful businessman from an industrialist family, running enterprises alongside his brothers. Then he met pop singer Milton Mallawarachchi, and the friendship became a turning point.
Through Milton, he came to know many of the country’s most celebrated artistes. He admired them deeply, and they welcomed him into their circle. Before long, the businessman had become something rarer: a patron who supported the country’s artistic endeavours out of genuine love for them.
Worried for the artistes
By the late 1970s the audio cassette had become the most practical way to sell music, and many businessmen rushed into the trade. Ganegoda watched this with concern. He worried about what it meant for singers’ creative and financial independence, and whether the people who made the music would share fairly in its rewards.
At the request of leading artists, he decided to enter music production himself. He did it, by every account, without commercial ambition. His only intention was to serve the artists.
18 March 1980
Singlanka was founded on 18 March 1980 as a limited company. Its founding team was remarkable. Clarence Wijewardana, the celebrated singer and songwriter, joined it. So did the renowned lyricist Kularatna Ariyawansa, who gave up his government job to be part of the venture, and continued to this day as its creative director. Vijaya Ramanayake, owner of the Tharanga record label, took charge of distribution.
Dozens of veteran artists who were close friends of Ganegoda handed over songs they had recorded independently to be released under the new label. Many new songs were recorded under the guidance of Clarence Wijewardana and Vijaya Ramanayake. In April 1980, Singlanka launched with 25 albums at once.
The first cassettes were produced in Singapore and imported. Because Sri Lanka then lacked the facilities to print Sinhala on the covers, the first sleeves carried their titles and information in English. Listeners objected, and the albums were quickly re-released with new covers in Sinhala.
By December 1980, 15 more albums recorded earlier in the year had followed. That same year, the Singlanka recording studio opened in Nugegoda under Clarence Wijewardana’s supervision. Equipped with the latest technology, it produced the country’s first eight-track recordings. Ganegoda invested heavily in it, and with veteran recordist Dayananda Perera at the helm it became the busiest and most respected studio in the country.
One roof, one family
The year 1981 was a landmark for the company. Ganegoda held a strong conviction that artists should not be left at the mercy of a fluctuating cassette market, which made careers unpredictable and unsustainable. If he could give them stability under one roof, he believed, they could give their energy to their art instead of worrying about money.
So, he invited them to join Singlanka, and they came. Amaradeva, Nanda Malini, Victor Rathnayaka, Sanath Nandasiri, Milton Mallawarachchi, Gunadasa Kapuge, Priya Sooriyasena, Sisira Senarathna, Indrani Wijayabandara, Malkanthi Nandasiri, Clarence Wijewardana, Anton Jones, Abeywardana Balasooriya and Niranjala Sarojini became exclusive Singlanka artists. Sunil Edirisinghe, T. M. Jayaratna, Somathilaka Jayamaha, Karunarathna Divulgane, Deepika Priyadarshani, Janaka Wickramasinghe, Rohan Bulegoda and Dayan Witharana joined them later.
Singlanka also produced best-selling albums by H. R. Jothipala, M. S. Fernando, Desmond de Silva, Nihal Nelson and Vijaya Kumaratunga.
The journey was not without heartache. Some ventures did not bear fruit, and it pained him when a few artistes left the label over the years. But the majority stayed, which says something about the man they stayed with.
A company of firsts
Singlanka’s catalogue reads like a record of firsts for Sri Lankan music:
· In April 1981, it released the first film soundtrack on cassette, for Sunil Ariyaratna’s Vajira.
· That year it also released Nanda Malini Live in London, the country’s first live-recorded cassette.
· In 1982, Ganegoda began replicating cassettes in Sri Lanka itself, having previously relied on Singapore. Veteran musician Rohana Weerasinghe left his government teaching post to join the company in 1983.
· In 1983, Prof. Ediriweera Sarachchandra’s iconic play Sinhabahu was released on a double cassette. Noorthi and Nadagam Songs, directed by Punyasena Gunasinghe, followed as another first.
· In 1984, under Sanath Nandasiri’s direction, came Madhubani, the country’s first album of classical instrumentals and songs, launched with a classical concert at Colombo’s Tower Hall.
· The same year, Nanda Malini’s double vinyl album Sathyaye Geethaya was released. Vinyl was not in popular demand at the time, so the experiment was not continued.
· In 1987, one of Ganegoda’s dream projects came true with Dorata Waduma, an album by six talented amateur singers. It introduced the singer Deepika Priyadarshani.
· In 1987, Sansare Api became the first collection of songs written by a member of the clergy, the Venerable Rambukkana Siddhartha.
· In 1989, Dhammapada Geethaya set verses of the Dhammapada to song.
The famous Singlanka logo was designed by Charlie Chang of Singapore. It has since become a timeless emblem of quality Sinhala music. In its first decade alone, Singlanka produced 136 original albums, a remarkable achievement for a company built on original recordings.
A patron of the nation’s culture
Ganegoda’s generosity reached well beyond his own studio. During its first two decades, Singlanka contributed financially to virtually every prominent national artistic event in the country.
In the early 1980s he sponsored concert tours to the United Kingdom for Amaradeva, Sisira Senarathna, Indrani Wijayabandara, Sunil Edirisinghe, Malani Bulathsinhala, Sanath Nandasiri and Malkanthi Nandasiri, carrying Sri Lankan music to audiences abroad.
He supported the first Sarasaviya Film Festival at the BMICH in 1980, the University of Colombo Art Festival, the G. B. Senanayake scholarship at the University of Sri Jayewardenepura, and the Mahagama Sekara Memorial Festival. He supported the Amaradeva felicitation event, the Children’s Books Society’s book exhibitions and prize-givings, the Bandaranaike Memorial Foundation Fund, and the Charles Silva Gunasinghe Memorial Fund. He supported the Vesak Bhakthi Gee Festival of the Lake House Buddhist Society, the “40 Years of Sinhala Cinema” event organised by the film critics and writers’ society, Prof. Sarachchandra’s drama festival, and the Premakeerthi Tribute Festival.
He also helped launch Amaradeva’s Naada Siththam, Dharmasiri Gamage’s Sulan Kurullo, and the concert Mage Swarayayi Obe Ridmayayi by Victor Ratnayake and Premasiri Kemadasa. These are only some of the many occasions on which he quietly gave his support.
More than a company
Today, Ananda Ganegoda’s name and Singlanka are inseparable. Singlanka is more than a record label. It is a cultural emblem of Sri Lanka, one that preserved the country’s musical heritage and identity for a generation and set a benchmark that the industry still looks to.
He began as a businessman who befriended a singer. He became a guardian of Sri Lankan music, giving artists a home, a stage and the security to create. Most of the millions who have hummed those songs may never have known his name. But every time a Singlanka melody plays, his dream is still being heard.
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