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‘A critique of the present with one foot in the past’

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6 years ago

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The Kandy Man, an autobiography by Sarath Amunugama

Usvatte-aratchi

The candy man in The Kandy Man, Volume One, is the first of three designed to constitute the autobiography of Sarath Amunugama, scholar, distinguished public servant, aesthete, politician and minister of government. As expected, he brings us not only double boiled sweets that his ‘beloved nanny Roslin’ bought him on way home from Kandy Girls’ High School but also whole truckloads of current history, enormously helpful insights into the working of institutions with which he was associated and the roles he played often on the main stage and sometimes in the sidelines, both literally and metaphorically.

In this review I shall highlight the nature of institutions with which he was associated. Those who wish to trace his meteoric rise from Cadet in the Ceylon Civil Service to Permanent Secretary at age 38 can do so with enjoyment in the volume under review. I strongly recommend that they do so, because there is much to learn and instruction to follow. Not only did Amunugama make history himself, but he also was a witness to history in the making for most of the life of this young republic and his long eventful life.

Many in similar vantage points have tried to write to the same effect but few have succeeded in abstracting their experience into the context of the society they lived in so that in writing their biography they were also writing contemporary history, which purists might argue is a contradiction in terms. To annul their contention, one only has to read good history which has sumptuously fed on autobiographies and study the art of writing biography that Lytton Strachey introduced when he wrote Queen Victoria.

Roy Jenkins is an admirable successor, but I am running ahead of myself. Let us hurry slowly- festina lente. The first institution that Amunugama introduced us was his family. The Amunugama clan had had an illustrious history and some males were executed for their participation in the rebellion in Matale in 1818. Family properties were confiscated and families were thrown into poverty. ‘Poverty may have been one of the reasons why the Amunugama family had been strongly represented in monkhood of the Malwatte faction of the Siyam Nikaya,’ says the author.

Young men of the clan were much sought after for binna marriages and the families gradually re- built themselves. Sarath’s father was brought up by a relative in Panadure (as to why read the volume) and he attended St. John’s College there, which brought a new tinge to the life of his children. His father was unusually keen that his children should gain from education and Trinity College in Kandy was his choice for young Sarath.

Sarath’s father took a great interest and he derived much pleasure from the growth and development of his son. The account of the family is full of insights into the organization of Kandyan radala society and would be most helpful to scholars studying that aspect of life in Kandy in late 19th and first half of the 20th century . The second institution we are introduced to is Trinity College, Kandy. Trinity together with S.Thomas’, Mount Lavinia, and Richmond, Galle had been, established on the model of English Public Schools. In England they come from a long time back and have strong traditions.

The system of ‘courts’ in Public Schools were carried onto colleges in Oxford and Cambridge and Whewell Court in Trinity, the second court in St John’s and the Front Court in St. Catharine’s are much admired. Trinity, Kandy had only two of these ‘Houses’: one for the Upper School and the other for the Middle School. A marked feature of Public Schools was the effort of the Headmaster to lead his charges in religious life. Each College had a chapel where students prayed and were addressed usually by the Headmaster. Dr. Thomas Arnold, the most celebrated headmaster of Rugby spent n hours preparing addresses to the boys in chapel. The tradition of regular chapel was carried into Colleges in universities and the magnificent King’s chapel is one of them. We hear little about it from Sarath, a Buddhist. But he took part in every other activity in school: Cadeting, games and the lot. He was also a Prefect of the school. Again, the role of Prefects in Public Schools in England is very special. They almost ran the school, except for teaching. The Headmaster had great trust in them. This was a major part of training these young men had for leadership and it paid off well.

Sarath was really preparing to go to university. We meet him in Peradeniya in 1957. Together with the university park so lovingly cared for by Shirley d’Alwis and his workers, and ‘the small good university’ nurtured by Jennings, the Kandy Man blossomed brightly and fragrantly. The young man was all on his own and soon was elected President of the Students Union, a position that foretold leadership in adult life. He plunged himself into all activities at the university. He even wasted time in those classes in Marxism, taught outside the university by dons who took to Trotskyism. There were two passions to which he yielded himself without reserve: the new discipline of sociology and the newly vibrant creative activities of mostly young teachers in the Sinhala and related activities.

In his autobiography, his admiration of Siri Gunasinghe, a Samskrtic who later turned art historian, is almost sky high. Gunasinghe was that idol of smart young undergraduates: highly intelligent, friendly, creative and at points iconoclastic. He was more adventurous than Sarachchandra in innovation: costumes for plays, free verse and novels on subjects hitherto untouched by the literati. A number of younger scholars followed him with enthusiasm, among them Gunadasa Amarasekera (an undergraduate in the Dental School), Wimal Dissanayake (who from a poet grew to a film critic of international fame) and Amunugama himself who breathed the fine air that Gunasinghe caused to blow over the undergraduate population.

Gunasinghe cultivated the best traditions of university teachers for which Jennings had designed Perademiya and students were in and out of his home. At university one learnt not only in lecture theatres and libraries but also from incessant jabber with fellow students and informal and casual conversations with teachers. The other major figure, the one who loomed large in the public eye was Sarachchandra. He was short, simple and casual in appearance but deadly serious in his intention to invent a tradition of the theatre that would appeal to both the literati and the woman in the marketplace. He was successful even beyond his expectations when he presented a series of plays that began with Maname. (My own reactions to the first staging of the play I wrote up in the novel Alut Matanga.)

Sarachchandra exploited the fondness for Jataka Stories that rested in the minds of the average Sinhala and used them as plot for his plays. One favourite story was that of the bodhisatva who was named Kachchaputa, an honest trader of fancy bangles and Sarachchandra staged it as Kada Valalu and Amunugama was cast as Kachchaputa. Many of the actors and singers in Sarachchandra plays had been from schools other than from Colombo but Amunugama played the part to perfection. He breached the large gap even without a leap.

Sarath’s other passion was sociology. A department for the study of sociology was set up with the hard work of Ralph Peiris who had studied the discipline in London University. He had two brilliant, young and enthusiastic teachers in S.J.Tambiah and Gananath Obeysekera, both of whom rose to world leadership for their work in anthropology. There were others including D.L. Jaysuriya. Peiris sought the help of the Departments of Economics, History and Sinhala to fill in gaps in teaching. The students who chose to study Sociology had a commitment to the discipline and they had young and ambitious teachers committed to teaching. The results were inevitable. Several outstanding students emerged, Amunugama first among them. Scholarship never left him and there has been a constant output of high quality work.

Tissa Balasuriya wrote a brilliant study of the life and work of Sarananakara. H.L. Seneviratne was Professor of Anthropology at the University of Virginia teaching and researching with substantial publications to his credit. Namel Weeramuni became a creative artist and directed a new play, that was popular. Both Tambiyah and Obeyesekere took to the new techniques of field studies to formulate hypotheses and test them. I together with some others took part in the Pata Dumbra Survey, the results of which were partly published in The Disintegrating Village. The full report of the Survey could not be published. But the Disintegrating Village had its effect on the discipline as Amunugama records in this volume.

Sarath collaborated closely with Obeysekere in the latter’s field work that went into the Pattini Cult, which brought much credit to Obeysekere. In an assessment of scholarship in social anthropology in South Asia, P.T. Madan observed ‘the work of two distinguished Sri Lankan anthropologist Gananath Obeysekere and Stanley Tambiah….’. Sarath Amunugama was part of all this. He had an enormously successful university life and walked into the Ceylon Civil Service . So began the introduction to the fourth institution which comes in Volume One.

He liked provincial administration very much, that was mostly land administration. He traveled to villages, talked to villagers, solved problems that could be solved on the spot and took down notes in continuation of studies in the university. The outcome was a collection of essays that was published a few years back. After serving in Ratnapura and Galle, Sarath moved as AGA to Kandy, partly to be near his father who had fallen ill and had received excellent medical attention, on the intervention of the son.

Ever the keen student, Sarath cultivated his interest in local artist including dancers and drummers. Back in Colombo in the Ministry of Finance together with another brilliant Civil Servant he produced the Establishments Code, that to date guides public servants. Later he became a head of a department as Director of Information and brought him in touch with artists including singers. This was an opportunity to exercise his creative talents and he did so to the fullest. The Government Film Unit found a new and better home. He traveled widely.

I am running short of words and must stop, as Wittgenstein might have said. As you can see there is much to talk about, to think about and argue about in this volume and what would you do except read it. There are numerous niggles that must be removed in a future print, Besides, there is one annoying confusion about Polgasduva, in the shadow of which I grew up. It is not an island on Madu Ganga that flows to the sea at Ahungalle but on the small Ratgama Lagoon, connected to the sea at Morakola. The lagoon fills up a sudden depression in the land as it slopes down East West to the Indian Ocean, into which drain the runoff from villages Ratgama, Karudampe, Pinkande, Sudumetiya, Beratuduva, Hennatota and Patuvata.

Polgasduva was the hard rock with a thin topsoil that did not drop down with the rest of the basin. Consequently, there are only a few stunted coconut trees and brush land in which grow occasionally, a himbutu, bovitiya or dan plant. The isolation of the small island made it ideal for bhikkhus who wanted to live quietly to develop their minds, as most samana had done several centuries back. It is far removed from the romance of Madu Ganga.

But why am I agitated about it? Because I lived my first 12 years of life in Katudampe, which then I left more than physically. This book, although about kings, princes and aristocrats, the author himself one, wears unusually simple though elegant garb. It is written in language that you and I use every day, so that the book is an easy read. The easy read deceives the reader into a feeling that he glides over easy problems. Maynard Keynes’ General Theory is a pleasant read, in fact, a great polemic. Almost a hundred years after it was first read, we still ague about its import.


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Features

Eshan Malinga keeps getting them in the second half

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8 hours ago

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2026/05/12

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Malinga took 4 for 32 against Delhi Capitals, his best bowling figures of the season so far [BCCI]

Life keeps throwing hurdles in his way, but Eshan Malinga keeps vaulting over them. Take his February from hell. For several months, Malinga had been building up to his first ever World Cup, a dream for pretty much anyone who ever picks up a cricket ball. But a week before that World Cup, Malinga dislocated his non bowling shoulder while bowling, which the team’s medical staff have since described as a freak injury they had never seen before.

“I was devastated,” Malinga says. “On top of it being my first World Cup, it was also at home and I didn’t know when I would get that chance again. There were a few days there where I did absolutely nothing.”

And yet in mid-May, here he is grinning from atop a pile of 16 IPL wickets,  having developed a serious reputation as a reverse-swing operator. Sunrisers  Hyderabad’s  explosive batters may have seized the spotlight in this frenetic IPL, but on the bowling front, no SRH bowler has neared Malinga’s wicket haul, which is fifth best in the season overall.  In a year in which they have not had Pat Cummins for seven of their 11 matches, it is Malinga who has held down the fort,  particularly in the second half of the innings.

But trading difficulty for success is just what Malinga does. What he has long been doing. Go back eight years and Malinga had never played a hard-ball cricket match. On top of which his home district of Ratnapura – at the base of Sri Lanka’s central hills – was better known for its gems and waterfalls than cricket, never having produced a men’s international. Malinga, additionally, was not even actively trying to be a cricketer. He had moved from his first school in a village called Opanayake to Ratnapura’s Sivali Central College due to strong academic results, and found, almost by accident, that his new school had a hard-ball cricket team.

But what Malinga knew at that point was that he could bowl fast. That much had been obvious growing up in Opanayaka, where despite his mother’s occasional misgivings, Malinga was highly sought after by the organisers of the village softball team (Sri Lanka has a thriving village-level softball cricket ecosystem). And as had been the case with the better-known Malinga, this one was also aware he possessed a killer yorker – a prized asset in every form of cricket, with any kind of ball.

If he’d been on track to be a softball legend, Malinga found his horizons began to expand at a spectacular rate the moment he got a hard ball in his hands. First, his yorker and his pace began to reap big wickets in the Division Three schools competition for Sivali Central, whose coach had immediately hoisted him into the team upon seeing Malinga bowl at practice one day. Then in mid-2019, about a year into playing hard-ball cricket, came the day he still reflects on as the one that changed his cricketing life. Having missed a fast-bowling competition in Ratnapura because he had been playing for his school that day, Malinga travelled to the hill town of Badulla to bowl in the competition there, and clocked 127kph on the gun, which was enough to win him first place.

This was when he first became a blip, however faint and distant, on Sri Lanka Cricket’s radar. Visions of a cricketing life began to appear as wisps of opportunity began to materialise. The next few years, Covid-riddled though they were, became a crash course into the sport for Malinga. There were coaching camps in Colombo in which the best of the rural talent was trained up and funnelled into a programme at the next level up. There were trials for first-class teams, and eventually a fledgling domestic career.

“I don’t know how many times I came to Colombo from Ratnapura during those times,” he laughs now. “It was a lot! I would leave home at about 3am, and the bus journey to Colombo took about three-and-a-half hours. Then I’d train or play the match, and the bus back home always took longer because of traffic. So every day, I was on the road for more than seven hours.”

The Malinga who made these exhausting daily commutes was, as far as the Sri Lankan cricket system was concerned, a bowler of decent rather than blinding promise. His pace had propelled him to the top of the regional pool, but at the first-class level he was still adapting his yorker and slower ball (another weapon he had developed in his softball days). If he needed another gear, Malinga found it – again almost by accident – sometime in 2022.

“I was playing an Under-23 three-day tournament, and I remember that being the first time I really started reverse-swinging the ball,” he says. “Coaches had anyway told me that with my action and my pace, it should be possible. But it started almost automatically. It’s not something I had to learn.

“But it wasn’t that easy, because it was a long process to learn how to control it. To get reverse swing, you have to release the ball at a different point than a straight ball, because you want it to still hit the stumps when it is swinging. So I scuffed up a lot of balls and trained hard to get that line right.”

And so, the Malinga that emerged at the end of 2022 had sharp enough pace, an excellent yorker, a developing slower ball, mountains of homespun tenacity, and had also discovered that he can naturally reverse-swing the ball earlier in an innings than most. You could have seen where this is going, right? All the ingredients of an ace white-ball bowler were there. And Malinga was already a master of turning wisps of opportunities into tangible advances. Over the next three years, he’d land a spot in the national fast-bowling academy, use that as a trampoline to impress in an Emerging Teams three-dayer against Bangladesh, and from there bounce into a stint at the MRF Pace Academy in 2024, before on the franchise side of things parlaying a trial at Rajasthan Royals at Kumar Sangakkara’s invitation into a decent run at the SA20 for Paarl Royals.

Having leapt up to the fringes of the Sri Lanka team over the past 18 months, Malinga has at this IPL now seized another unusual chance. The square at SRH’s home stadium is among the barest and most abrasive in the league, and Malinga’s reverse swing has prospered upon it. Of his 16 wickets this season, 11 have come at home. In the second half of the innings, when the ball is most likely to reverse, Malinga’s economy rate is 8.37 at a venue where runs have been scored at 9.38 in that period this season.

Malinga had put in a robust 2025 season for SRH as well, so there is a body of work emerging there. Perhaps this is why this year, SRH’s bowling plans have tended to follow the contours of Malinga’s own game.

“After six overs the ball gets damaged here, so we needed to make use of that. When I bowled at practice, the ball reversed, so I think a plan emerged where we were going to use the scuffed up ball and take advantage of that.

“In the first powerplay the ball comes on to the bat nicely here. After that we try to get the advantage of having an older ball. We’ve got bowlers who bowl 140kph-plus, and we have Pat Cummins, who also reverses the ball. So we make sure to look after the ball in a way that will give us reverse.”

At 25, eight years into a serious cricket career, Malinga sees himself as a work in progress. He wants to work on his powerplay bowling. His variations, he thinks, still need some work. He’d like to play Tests, where his reverse swing could really stretch its legs. And, oh, he is still waiting to play that first World Cup.

Even here, his keen nose for opportunity leads him. He points out through the course of our conversation that where the three previous World Cups had been played with a new ball at either end being used right through the innings, the next World Cup, in 2027, will feature rules that seem at least partially designed to enhance reverse swing, an older ball more suited to the craft now available towards the end of the innings.

He isn’t even a sure-fire pick in Sri Lanka’s ODI XI just yet, so this is just a flicker of an opportunity for now. But having made the journey from the village of Opanayaka to the most raucous cricketing showpiece on the planet, Malinga knows just what to do with those.

[Cricinfo]

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Features

High Stakes in Pursuing corruption cases

Published

23 hours ago

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2026/05/12

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Kapila Chandrasena

The death of the most important suspect in the Sri Lankan Airlines Airbus deal has drawn intense public speculation. Kapila Chandrasena the former CEO of the heavily loss-making national airline was found dead under circumstances that the police are still investigating.

He had recently been arrested by the Commission to Investigate Allegations of Bribery or Corruption in connection with the controversial Airbus aircraft purchase agreement signed in 2013. Police investigations are continuing into the cause of death and whether or not he committed suicide. The unresolved death brings to light the high stakes involved in accountability efforts of this nature.

The uncertainty surrounding Chandrasena’s death has revived public memories of other mysterious deaths linked to corruption investigations and public scandals. Among them is the death of Rajeewa Jayaweera, a former SriLankan Airlines executive and outspoken critic of the Airbus transaction. He was following in the tradition of his father, the late foreign service officer and public servant Stanley Jayaweera who mentored the younger generation in good governance practices and formed the group “Avadhi Lanka” along with icons such as Prof Siri Hettige. Rajeewa had written a series of articles exposing irregularities in the deal before he was found dead near Independence Square in Colombo in 2020. The CCTV cameras in that high security area were turned off. Questions raised at that time whether or not he had committed suicide were not satisfactorily resolved.

The controversy about the cause of Chandrasena’s death is diverting attention away from the massive damage done to the country by the SriLankan Airlines deal itself. The value of the aircraft agreement was close to the size of the International Monetary Fund bailout package that Sri Lanka desperately needed by 2023 in order to stabilise the economy after bankruptcy. Sri Lanka’s IMF Extended Fund Facility amounted to about USD 3 billion spread over four years. The comparison shows the scale of the losses and liabilities that irresponsible and corrupt decisions have imposed on the country and which must never happen again.

Wider Pattern

The corruption linked to the Airbus transaction came fully into the open only because of investigations conducted outside Sri Lanka. In 2020 Airbus agreed to pay record penalties of more than EUR 3.6 billion to authorities in Britain, France and the United States to settle global corruption investigations. Sri Lanka was identified as one of the countries where bribes had allegedly been paid in order to secure contracts. The Airbus deal involved the purchase of six A330 aircraft and four A350 aircraft valued at approximately USD 2.3 billion. Investigations showed that Airbus paid bribes amounting to nearly USD 16 million in order to secure the contract. According to court submissions, at least part of this money amounting to USD 2 million was transferred through a shell company registered in Brunei and routed through Singapore bank accounts linked to the late airline CEO and his wife.

The commissions involved in this deal may seem comparatively small compared to the overall value of the contracts but devastating in their consequences. But they also show that a few million dollars paid secretly to decision makers could lead to the country assuming liabilities worth hundreds of millions or even billions of dollars over decades. This is why corruption is not simply a moral issue. It is a direct economic assault on the living standards of ordinary people. Money lost through corruption is money unavailable for schools, hospitals, rural development and job creation. In the end the burden falls on ordinary citizens who are left to repay debts incurred in their name without receiving commensurate benefits in return.

The SriLankan Airlines transaction gives an indication of the wider pattern of corruption and misuse of national resources that has taken place over many years. This was not an isolated incident. There were numerous large scale infrastructure and procurement projects that imposed heavy debts on the country while enriching politically connected individuals and their associates. Other projects such as the Colombo Port City, Hambantota Harbour and highway construction reveal a similar pattern.

Less publicised but equally damaging scandals have involved fertiliser medicine and energy contracts. Investigations into medicine procurement in recent years uncovered allegations that substandard pharmaceuticals had been imported at inflated prices causing both financial losses and risks to public health.

Moral Renewal

The present government appears determined to investigate major corruption cases in a manner that no previous government has attempted. Those who ransacked and bankrupted the treasury need to be dealt with according to the law. There is considerable public support for efforts to recover stolen assets and ensure accountability.

In his May Day speech President Anura Kumara Dissanayake stated that around 14 corruption cases were nearing completion in the courts this very month and called upon the public to applaud when verdicts are delivered. Political opponents of the government claim that such comments could place pressure on the judiciary and blur the separation between political leadership and the courts. But the deeper public frustration that underlies the president’s remarks also needs to be understood.

The challenge facing Sri Lanka is twofold. The country must ensure that justice is done through due process and independent institutions. If anti corruption campaigns become politicised they can lose legitimacy. But if corruption and abuse of power continue without consequences the country will remain trapped in a cycle of economic decline and moral decay. Sri Lanka also needs to confront past abuses linked to the war period. There are allegations of kidnapping, extortion, disappearances and criminal activity in which members of the security forces have been implicated. Vulnerable sections of the population suffered greatly during those years. If political leaders turned a blind eye or actively connived in such crimes they too need to be held accountable under the law. Selective justice will not heal the country. Accountability must apply across the board regardless of political position, ethnicity or institutional power.

Sri Lanka has paid a very heavy price for corruption and impunity. The economic collapse of 2022 did not occur overnight. It was the result of years of bad governance, reckless decision making, abuse of power and the misuse of public wealth. If the country is to move forward the focus cannot be diverted by sensational speculation alone. Suspicious deaths and political intrigue may dominate headlines for a few days. But the larger issue is the system that enabled corruption to flourish without accountability for so long. The real national task is to end that system. Sri Lanka cannot build a prosperous future on a foundation of corruption and impunity. Unless those who looted public wealth are held accountable and the systems that enabled them are dismantled, the country risks repeating the same cycle again.

Jehan Perera

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Features

When University systems fail:Supreme Court’s landmark intervention in sexual harassment case

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23 hours ago

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2026/05/12

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Over seven years after making an initial complaint of sexual harassment against her research supervisor, Dr. Udari Abeyasinghe, then a temporary lecturer and now a senior lecturer at the University of Peradeniya, has been finally served justice. On May 8, 2026, the Supreme Court made the following directions regarding Udari’s fundamental rights case: “1) The 1st Respondent [her research supervisor] is prohibited from accepting any post, whether paid or not or honorary, in any university, educational institute or other academic institution; 2) The UGC to issue a direction to all universities and other institutions, coming under its purview, to abstain from giving any appointment, whether paid or not, or honorary, to the 1st Respondent; and 3) The University of Peradeniya, including the Council and respective Respondent [sic], are directed to take appropriate measures to enforce and raise awareness of the University of Peradeniya’s policy on Sexual or Gender-Based Harassment and Sexual Violence for staff and students, including conducting mandatory annual seminars for all academics, staff and students.” I recently spoke with Udari to learn about her experience battling the University’s sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) procedures.

Violence and injustice

Udari was a temporary lecturer when she began working on her MPhil degree. Her research supervisor was a Senior Professor and Dean of her faculty. The harassment began in 2017.

When Udari reached out for support to the SGBV Committee of the University of Peradeniya, the Chair explained the complaint procedure, including how a third party could make a complaint on her behalf. In July 2018, Udari’s mother made a written complaint to the Vice Chancellor (VC). “The very next day [my supervisor] called me … and asked me to withdraw the complaint because it would look bad for me … the university should have taken measures to separate the complainant from the perpetrator … but nothing like that happened.”

Before making the formal complaint, Udari reached out to other academic staff at her Faculty. She shared her experience with a few close colleagues. Many advised her to leave the Faculty. “No one in the Faculty supported me publicly, although some sympathised privately … I was a temporary lecturer … no one really cared.” Some of her colleagues and non-academic staff who knew about the harassments, asked her to avoid involving them because they feared retaliation from higher powers.

Udari faced a preliminary inquiry and then a formal inquiry. The preliminary inquiry took place about four months after her complaint, and the inquiry committee recommended proceeding to a formal inquiry. The latter was held about a year after the initial complaint. “I got to know unofficially that [my supervisor] had got hold of all the statements made at the preliminary inquiry and pressured some colleagues to change their statements before the formal inquiry.” During the time of the formal inquiry, an anonymous letter (“kala paththaraya”) was circulated among staff: “It was a character assassination … the same kala paththaraya would get circulated from time to time.” After the formal inquiry committee submitted its report and recommendations, Udari was informed, in writing, that the University Council had dismissed the report.

“Neither the preliminary inquiry report nor the formal inquiry report were shared with me … I had to make a formal request to the VC and only then did I get a copy of the preliminary inquiry report… I had to get the formal inquiry report through an RTI (a request under the Right to Information Act). What I understand is that [my supervisor] had influenced the Council … that’s why they rejected the report…saying there had been a delay of six months to make a complaint ….” (N. B. there are no time limitations for submitting a complaint in the SGBV by-laws of the University of Peradeniya, although such time bars exist at other universities).

Udari then submitted formal complaints to the University Grants Commission (August 2020) and the Human Rights Commission of Sri Lanka (December 2020), and finally filed a fundamental rights case at the Supreme Court in March 2021. Five years later, on May 8th 2026, Udari’s complaint was vindicated.

University procedures and inquiries

When her mother submitted the complaint against her supervisor, Udari was a temporary lecturer. She had given up her dream of pursuing an academic career because she did not think she would be recruited to a permanent position after making a complaint against a faculty member. It is encouraging that Udari was recruited, but in most instances, students and junior staff endure and stay silent to avoid jeopardising their academic careers. We currently have no procedures in place at universities to protect victims and witnesses from backlash.

According to Udari, the former Chair of the SGBV Committee and the members of her preliminary inquiry panel played a crucial role in her case, and, in her words, “could not be influenced.” But SGBV by-laws at state universities place inordinate power in the hands of the Council and VC. According to the SGBV by-laws of the University of Peradeniya, the Council appoints the 15-member SGBV Committee comprising “[t]wo (02) persons from among the members of the Council; [t]en (10) persons drawn from the permanent and senior members of the academic community; and [t]hree (03) persons external to the University, from among the retired academic or administrative staff of the University” (Section 2.1). While the by-laws recommend appointing persons who have demonstrated “gender-sensitivity, proven interest in working on issues of gender equality and equity, and trained to investigate and inquire into cases of sexual or gender-based harassment and sexual violence” (Section 2.1), we know this is often not the case. In many universities, VCs control which cases are taken up and end up in an inquiry. Most students and staff at state universities have little faith in the existing SGBV complaint procedures.

As Udari experienced, the decisions of inquiry committees can be overruled and dismissed by University Councils, indicating the importance of appointing appropriate members to the Councils. The Deans of faculties, who are Ex-officio members, usually collude to protect their own interests and fiefdoms, while the appointment of external members to Councils is deeply politicised. At present, there is no application process or vetting of candidates before they are appointed. They are usually persons who are seen to be sympathetic to the incumbent political dispensation. Furthermore, external members are dependent on the university hierarchy for information on the issues being discussed, the details of which are often hidden from them. It is not surprising then that University Councils would adjudicate on the side of power.

Final recommendation

Beyond barring Udari’s former research supervisor from holding positions in the university system, the Supreme Court has directed the University of Peradeniya to raise awareness on SGBV among staff and students. While SGBV is addressed in the induction courses and orientation programmes at universities, staff and students must be made aware of the nitty-gritties of complaint procedures, including time bars, which were crucial to the outcome of Udari’s case. But is raising awareness sufficient? Do we have ways to hold university authorities accountable for arbitrary and/or prejudicial decision-making and other abuses of power?

For Udari, life continues to be difficult, with constant surveillance of her activities.

“In November 2024 , I shared a post about my case.. it was a newspaper article stating that the Supreme Court had granted leave to proceed… I just took a photograph of it and posted it on my Facebook without any captions… a few weeks later I was summoned by higher authorities…I was informed that several academics had verbally complained about me using my social media to tarnish the name of the faculty and the university and, if that’s the case, that I should know that the University Council has the authority to take action against me … we also spoke briefly about the case and at one point I was told that this incident (harassment) happened to me because I showed some positivity towards (the perpetrator) …”

Let’s hope that university administrations pause before victimising and revictimising SGBV survivors in future. As a community, we have to rethink the hierarchical ways in which universities function and create a meaningful mechanism that supports students and staff to complain without fear of repercussion.

Thank you, Udari, for taking this step forward. University administrations will have to stop, listen and change their ways.

(Ramya Kumar is attached to the Department of Community and Family Medicine, Faculty of Medicine, University of Jaffna, and is an alumna of the University of Peradeniya).

Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.

By Ramya Kumar

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