Features
A Look Back on Djokovic’s French Open
by Vijaya Chandrasoma
I watched the final of the French Open a couple of Sundays ago, and was enthralled to see current World No. 1 Novak Djokovic beat the gallant Dane, Caspar Ruud, runner-up at this event last year, in straight sets to claim his 23rd Major title, a record which now can only be broken by himself.
In an era where we have been lucky to enjoy the effortless grace of Federer and the indefatigable courage of Nadal, the consummate superiority of a complete tennis player was on display at Roland Garros.
Perhaps he – and no one – will excel the grace and charm of Federer’s game. Perhaps no one will ever parallel the sportsmanship of Stefan Edberg, the Swede who won six Grand Slam men’s singles, two each of Wimbledon, Australian and US Open titles, in the 1980s and 90s. Being a quintessential serve and volley player, the red clay of Roland Garros did not suit his type of game.
It’s entirely possible that Carlos Alcaraz, who was beaten by Djokovic in the semi-finals, will fulfill the incredible talent he has already shown and break all records, one day in the future.
Much has been made of the long bathroom break Djokovic took after the second set of the semi-final, when Carlito was showing signs of distress caused by cramp. A break that many implied that Djokovic used as a means to further upset the rhythm of an injured man. Be that as it may, physical condition is an essential part of the game, so surely a 20-year-old should not be suffering from cramps after two hard sets, when a 36-year-old looked supremely fit to continue.
As Djokovic himself said, “I don’t want to say I am the greatest….because I feel it is disrespectful towards all the great champions in different eras of our sport that was played in a completely different way than it is played today. So I feel each great champion of his own generation has left a huge mark, a legacy, and paved the way for us to be able to play this sport in such a great stage worldwide”.
A statement of grace and humility, from a man for whom the best may well be yet to come. As lead coach Goran Ivanisevic, himself a Wimbledon Champion in the 1990s, said: “Novak has in his body has many more slams”.
His main rival, Carlos Alcaraz, the World’s No.1 till Djokovic beat him in a semi-final marred by injury, was magnanimous in his defeat:
“Many people want to create controversy about Novak’s bathroom break. But no, I don’t believe it influenced anything. The physical demands Novak placed on me (in the first two sets) had an impact. Ultimately, I couldn’t hold on physically. And I don’t blame him for closing the match.
“It’s not easy to play against Novak, you know. Of course a legend in our sport. If someone says that he gets into the court with no nerves playing against Novak, he lies”.
For me, for now, Novak Djokovic reigns supreme, the world’s complete tennis player. Until Wimbledon in a couple of weeks.
I have been following tennis since the 1950s, the days of Pancho Gonzales and Frank Sedgman, great players who were not able to compete in the Grand Slam events because they were professionals, ordinary human beings who had to earn a living, usually by coaching and exhibition matches. I had the great good fortune to attend such an exhibition match in 1959 at the Wembley Stadium in London, when Segura and Sedgman played Gonzales and Trabert. I was dazzled by their wonderful tennis, although they were mainly kidding around. I still remember Pancho Segura placing a half-crown coin where the center service line meets the service line(I hope I’ve got that right), and Pancho Gonzales, who had a wonderful serve, sent the coin flying every time.
In those days, no prize money was awarded for the qualified amateurs, who were reimbursed for their travel expenses only.
The tennis scene has changed beyond recognition since the advent of the Open Era in 1968, when all players, amateur and professional, were allowed to play in the four Grand Slam events, Wimbledon, the US Open, Roland Garros and Australia.
The prize money for these Grand Slam events has now reached staggering levels. When Rod Laver beat Tony Roche to win the first Open Wimbledon title in 1968, he was paid a mere 2,000 pounds sterling, which in today’s US dollars amount to approximately $25,000.
The total French Open prize money in 2023 was 43.9 million Euros (US$47 million), with the winners of the men’s and women’s singles titles, Novak Djokovic and Iga Swiatek, taking home princely purses of 2.3 million Euros (US$ 2.46 million) each. Even a first-round loser was paid 69,000 Euros (US$ 74,000).
In the late 1950s, I was a student in London. I never saw the French Open live, but was a regular at Wimbledon, originally and grandly named the All-England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club. The total cost of a day at Wimbledon during the tournament – travel to Wimbledon by tube, a ticket to watch the tennis in many courts, with a British snack best described as substantial but tasteless, cost under a couple of pounds – Rs. 30, well within the budget of Ceylonese students in London. We were allowed a lavish monthly allowance of 45 pounds – Rs. 650 – by the Exchange Controller, an amount more than sufficient for us to lead most comfortable lives in England.
The only match at Wimbledon I remember to this day is one in which Nicola Pietrangeli of Italy and India’s Ramanathan Krishnan, both touch players, were pitted against each other in one of the early rounds in the late 1950s. Wonderful tennis of elegance and nuance, touch shots and finesse I enjoyed at courtside, a match forever etched in my mind. I cannot remember who won, which is hardly surprising, as, using the modern technology of today, I learnt that these two wonderful players had never competed against each other at Wimbledon.
Which goes to prove the old adage: the older we are, the better we – and our memories – were! Ah, how well-timed were our cover drives, how accurate our backhand volleys, how much prettier were the girls who reluctantly agreed to date us. Selective amnesia is a wonderful feature of one’s memory.
At school, I was an above-average tennis player, who, with an exceptionally talented partner, won the junior doubles title for Royal at the Public Schools Championships in 1956. I was a member of the tennis team at Christ Church, during my brief career at Oxford. We played against many colleges in Oxford and Cambridge, but the only match I remember was the Christ Church encounter against the OULTC (Oxford University Ladies Tennis Club). We were thrashed by some very fine lady players, but more than compensated in making new and attractive friends.
On my return from England, I continued playing club tennis on a regular basis, most often at the then exclusive, mainly white, Queen’s Club where, in those bad old days, natives had to be “invited” to join. Inevitably, I incurred the wrath of my paradoxically proud Ceylonese though Anglophile father, by accepting this invitation. I participated in many of the Club’s tennis tournaments, the highlight being a win in the Club Men’s Singles final, where I beat an Englishman, a Cambridge Blue, no less.
National Champion at the time, P.S. Kumara, also a club member, swears that I had begged of him not to enter the aforementioned event. This was an extremely insignificant title in his eyes, and being an old friend, he complied with my plea. But he went on to spread a scurrilous rumor that not only had I persuaded him not to participate, but, in my capacity as tennis convenor of the Club, I had “nobbled” the draw to ease my path to the final. Again, due perhaps to the above-mentioned selective amnesia, I remember only my win, and nothing of my friend Kum’s concocted calumny.
I also loved to travel to the “outstation” clubs, like Bandarawela, Talawakelle, Dixon’s Corner and so many others, where the members, mainly planters (and more likely, their most attractive wives), organized wonderful weekend tennis tournaments. The hospitality of our hosts was boundless, the dances they organized on the Saturdays of the tournament, entirely on British lines, beyond enjoyable. I well remember such an event in Udapusselawa, where, after the dance ended around 5 a.m., our planter host treated us to a breakfast of kippers and onions at his home, a meal I hadn’t enjoyed since my student days in London. After which, as I had qualified to play the later rounds, I was expected back at the club courts at 10.m., seriously hung over and miserable. But the hair of the dog* usually did the trick.
My greatest achievement in tennis was at Ratnapura. The late Bernard Pinto, also a National Tennis Champion in his day, paid me the honor of inviting me to play the men’s doubles with him at the club tournament in his hometown. Thanks to Bernard’s consummate skills (he instructed me to retreat into the sidelines after I served and hopefully returned serve), and leave the rest to him. We (really Bernard alone, for the most part) won the final with ease, but I had the last laugh when I persuaded the announcer at the awards ceremony to call the results thus: “Chandrasoma and partner win the men’s doubles 6/2, 6/2.”
I will try to make up for indulging myself writing about a sport I love (rather than my regular rants about the man I loathe) by presuming to provide the reader with some information about the French Open. Specifically, the origins of the naming of France’s premier tournament after Roland Garros, a French World War I hero. And the story behind the widely displayed phrase in the stadium “Victory belongs only to the most Tenacious”.
Officially named ‘Internationaux de France de Tennis’, the French now use the name Roland-Garros in all languages for the French Open.
In 1927, for the first time in history, the French beat the United States in the Davis Cup. To celebrate this monumental win, the French built a new, 20-court stadium in Paris in 1928. The French decided to name their new stadium after Roland Garros, a pioneer of military aviation and the nation’s most highly decorated, fighter pilot in WW I. He was tragically shot down by the Germans in 1918. He left a legacy of intelligence, bravery and honor, traits the French Open looks to emulate.
The phrase “Victory belongs only to the Persevering”, which is displayed prominently in the stadium, is a quote attributed to Napoleon I, which Roland Garros made his own … “so much so that he inscribed it on his planes’ propellers”. The French considered it a statement of admiration for the quality of tenacity, the attribute expected of all those who participate in the French Open, the Roland Garros tournament.
*Hair of the dog. This phrase is drawn from an ancient cure for a wound caused by a rabid dog bite. A clump of hair from the same rabid dog was placed on the wound, hopefully resulting in relief. Similarly, when suffering from a hangover caused by excessive consumption of alcohol, the ingestion of a small amount of alcohol is supposed to provide relief from the original cause of the malaise.
Features
Revolt in the Temple: Poverty as Structural Control
The underlying issue in Anuradhapura is a struggle between a few families who, for years, have waged a quiet cold war over control of the Udamaluwa. Similar situations exist in Mihintale as well. These places, among others, are treated as treasures of Buddhism but, in practice, function as tightly controlled economic centres. The same pattern repeats in Kandy around the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic and in Kataragama at the shrine of God Kataragama. Variations of it exist across religious spaces of Islam, Catholicism, and Hinduism too, where institutional authority becomes indistinguishable from localised power networks. What is presented as sacred order often operates as inherited control.
It is indeed devastating to see situations where parents have no alternative but to expose their children to predators in robes for survival. This has nothing to do with religion itself, but with human pathology in the context of survival. These are the questions that demand answers, not superficial responses that treat symptoms while ignoring the conditions that produce them. What is more shocking and disturbing is not the tragedy itself, but the reactions to it. Social media has overwhelmed us, not towards understanding, but towards a fragmented cognitive state with no exit route.
A friend of mine in Nairobi used to keep all his electronic devices at home and go into the forest once a month, spending days there before returning. He called it “detoxification”, but in reality it was an escape from a system that no longer allows uninterrupted thought. Daily life is now saturated with unnecessary content, and attention itself has become a commodity extracted, processed, and sold back to us. This is where we have become unable to understand what really drives certain tragedies we endlessly react to, while remaining blind to the systems that quietly manufacture them.
Multi-dimensional poverty
Poverty is structural, poverty is political, and poverty is functional; it is a tool and a manoeuvring force of power. The question is no longer whether poverty exists, but who benefits from its persistence, and who is forced to survive within it. From education to medicine to basic food supply chains, countries like Sri Lanka are not simply mismanaged; they are structurally captured by a small number of actors who remain stable regardless of who is formally in power. Small-scale enterprises and NGO circuits that circulate foreign funding to “solve structural issues” often operate as hollow administrative performances, producing reports rather than transformation.
Poverty is not merely the absence of money. It is the absence of bandwidth, absence of protection, absence of time, and absence of cognitive stability. As Sendhil Mullainathan and Eldar Shafir state, “Scarcity captures the mind. Just as the starving subjects had food on their mind, when we experience scarcity of any kind, we become absorbed by it.” This is a description of how human cognition is structurally reorganized under constraint. Scarcity does not sit outside the person; it occupies them.
They also state, “Scarcity leads us to borrow and pushes us deeper into scarcity.” That is the mechanism that must be confronted without euphemism. Poverty is not only deprivation; it is a self-reinforcing trap in which survival decisions generate the next layer of crisis. Once a society crosses a certain threshold of scarcity, it stops producing long-term reasoning as a default condition. It produces short-term survival logic, often mistaken by outsiders for irrationality.
It is precisely here that public discourse becomes intellectually dishonest. Everything is translated into moral language because moral language is easier than structural analysis. But morality without structure becomes theatre. It produces outrage, not understanding, and repetition, not reform.
It is indeed brutal when an individual wearing religious insignia—whether robe, symbol, or institutional identity—is accused of acts that fundamentally contradict the moral authority attached to that position. It is equally brutal when institutions that depend entirely on trust begin to function as shields rather than safeguards. But the deeper question is not shock. The deeper question is what kind of social condition produces families who see placement within such institutions not only as devotion, but as a survival strategy under constraint.
Ethical decision-making
That is where the argument collapses into its most uncomfortable form. Poverty does not produce ethical decision-making environments. It produces constrained optimization under pressure. When food insecurity, debt, and social instability converge, institutional spaces that appear stable become transactional destinations for survival rather than moral choices. To interpret this as purely cultural failure is to deliberately ignore the structural compression of options.
Mullainathan and Shafir describe this clearly: “Instead of saying that scarcity ‘focuses,’ we could just as easily say that scarcity causes us to tunnel: to focus single-mindedly on managing the scarcity at hand.” That tunnelling effect is not abstract. It is visible wherever long-term planning collapses under immediate pressure. Systems then misread this as irresponsibility, when it is in fact cognitive overload produced by structure.
What is rarely acknowledged is how deeply this extends into governance itself. Institutions increasingly operate as if they are managing rational, unconstrained individuals. In reality, they are interacting with populations whose cognitive bandwidth is already structurally taxed. The result is policy failure interpreted as public non-compliance, enforcement interpreted as moral correction, and reform interpreted as communication failure rather than design failure.
Social media has intensified this distortion. It does not merely spread information; it destroys sequencing. Structural problems require temporal depth. Social media removes that depth and replaces it with instantaneous judgment. Every event becomes a surface object, detached from causality. The outcome is a society permanently reacting and never diagnosing.
Poverty, in this environment, becomes invisible in its real form. It is not seen as a continuous structural condition but as episodic failure. A scandal appears, is consumed, and disappears. Another replaces it. Nothing accumulates into understanding because attention itself is exhausted before synthesis can occur.
Modern Condition
The modern condition reflects a reversal of earlier social organization, where human relationships are embedded within abstract systems of finance, law, and administration that often fail to recognize the lived constraints of those they govern. In this disembedded state, institutions increasingly misinterpret human behaviour as their capacity for structural understanding weakens. At the same time, attempts to resolve systemic failures through expanding administrative complexity produce diminishing returns: more regulation, oversight, and reporting generate less coherence. Over time, institutions shift from functional effectiveness to symbolic performance, maintaining the appearance of control rather than achieving it.
This is why public outrage repeatedly fails to translate into structural change. Outrage is not a tool of reconstruction. It is a signal of system fatigue. It circulates, intensifies, and dissipates without altering the underlying architecture. Meanwhile, the conditions that produce repetition remain intact.
The most persistent illusion is that these are separate problems: poverty here, institutional misuse there, media distortion elsewhere. They are not separate. They are expressions of a single condition in which scarcity, complexity, symbolic authority, and fragmented enforcement interact without coordination. The system does not fail in one place; it fails in the gaps between these layers.
Symbolic systems
What makes this condition more severe is that symbolic systems continue to operate at full strength even when structural systems degrade. Religious identity remains powerful. Political rhetoric remains strong. Cultural symbolism remains intact. But enforcement capacity, institutional coherence, and social trust degrade beneath them. That gap is where instability grows. Until that gap is addressed at the level of structure rather than sentiment, repetition remains inevitable. New scandals will emerge, new interpretations will circulate, and new cycles of outrage will follow. Nothing resolves because nothing is being reconstructed beneath the surface of reaction.
This is no longer repairable through adjustment or rhetoric. It is a form of decay that persists until it exhausts itself, because the mechanisms meant to correct it are now part of the same failure. It continues until rupture, not reform. At that point, instability ceases to be episodic and becomes structural. Pressure will accumulate into breakdown, and what follows will not be managed transition but forced reversal. The responsibility lies with those who govern these institutions to prevent that trajectory, not through language, but through change. The drama is ending; farce is over; what we are witnessing is tragedy unfolding with unprecedented consequences.
by Nilantha Ilangamuwa
Features
Are threats to Buddha Sasana external or from within?
As Sri Lanka celebrates the birth, Enlightenment and the Parinibbana of the Buddha, almost a month after the rest of the Buddhist-world did so, there is widespread discussion about threats to Buddha Sasana provoked by some recent incidents. Regarding the views expressed about postponing Vesak celebrations in my article ‘May Day and postponement Vesak 2026’ (The Island, 25 May), my very good friend Dr Upali Abeysiri has sent me the following comments: “The Mahanayakas have a good reason to postpone Vesak. The dawning of the full moon has to be on the same constellation (nekatha) as when the Buddha was born and attained enlightenment. Although Adhi Poya is reckoned as the second full moon arising in the same calendar month, this is supposed to be an odd exception.” Though it would have been ideal if a consensus could have been reached prior to the split of celebrations, perhaps, it does not matter very much as celebrations occur on a symbolic rather than an actual date, there being no historical or archaeological evidence confirming exact dates.
Whilst there are no direct threats to Buddha Dhamma, as the expanding horizons of science continue to confirm the fundamentals of Buddha Dhamma, there is no doubt whatsoever that there are threats to Buddha Sasana. However, these threats become important as the Buddha Sasana performs the pivotal role in protecting and propagating the Dhamma and, hence, become an indirect threat to Dhamma itself. Therefore, it should be the concern of all Buddhists and it is in this spirit I am making some comments which some may interpret as disrespectful to the Maha Sangha. I can reassure that my intentions are entirely directed towards the preservation of the Buddha Dhamma and Sasana. Though the Buddha proclaimed that the Sasana consists of Bhikkhu, Bhikkhuni, Upasaka and Upasika, for all practical purposes Sasana had been led by Bhikkhus, often at the expense of others.
There is hardly any doubt that there are external forces at play in Sri Lanka and even some Buddhists seem to object to Sri Lanka being called a Buddhist country. Interestingly, no one seems to object to countries like the UK and the USA being called Christian counties. I
There is no registration or baptism in Buddhism and there are no rewards for Buddhists for conversions. As I pointed out in a previous article, ‘How does the Buddha differ’ (The Island, 1 May) unlike most other religions, Buddhism is not a ‘high-demand’ religion, nor ‘law-based’ religion and is not exclusivist. Perhaps, it is this liberalism, pacifism and gentleness, which are the real strengths, that are being exploited as weaknesses by others.
There will always be external threats and the Buddha too faced many during his lifetime. Before addressing those, is it not more important to address the threats within? One of the most important problems seems to be the breakdown of discipline. Bhikkhus are bound by Vinaya rules, laid down by the Buddha and some recent incidents highlight total deviations. Though there were many previous incidents like unsubstantiated claims of Arahanthood, Bhikkhus attacking each other on YouTube and Bhikkhus conducting YouTube channels, not for the propagation of the Dhamma but for the accumulation of rupees, attention was focused after the detection of 22 young monks carrying narcotic drugs.
Though many commentators were quick to condemn the Sangha on this account, we need to go deeper. Narcotic menace has become a huge problem in Sri Lanka and it looks as if the drug lords would resort to anything to achieve their objectives. Though it looks as if some gullible young monks had been duped by drug lords, we need to question why it was possible. Is it due to the lack of supervision of these novices by their seniors that allowed them to accept a request in a WhatsApp group? Should there be checks and balances on foreign travel by Bhikkhus?
What shocked Buddhists was what followed next; the arrest of the Nayaka of Atamasthana for allegedly having sex with a minor. Anuradhapura was our first capital and Sri Maha Bodhi is the longest surviving authenticated tree in the world. Ruwanweliseya and Jetawanaramaya were among the ten tallest man-made structures in the ancient world, Jetawanaramaya still holding the Guiness record for the largest stupa in the world. Cyberspace is full of theories. Whilst some have condemned the Nayaka Thero even before the conclusion of inquiries whilst others claim that this was a coup by another Nayaka Thera in an attempt of succession.
I was intrigued, reading in a Sri Lankan newspaper about the 80th birthday celebrations of a Nayaka priest, who was convicted in London in 2012 of historical child sex abuse and sentenced to seven years in prison. I remember the case very well as he was the head of the Vihara, we had our first contact on relocating to the UK. I also remember his devotees, who believed that he was wrongly accused, collecting over £50,000 for an appeal. In spite of being represented by one of the top Barristers in the UK, the conviction was upheld but the jail-term was reduced by a year. His name is still on the sex-offenders register in the UK and he is permanently prevented from association with children. One can argue that as he has served the sentence and not reoffended, this should not be held against him but what baffled me is that he is still being referred to as the Chief Sangha Nayaka. Should a person on the sex-offenders register be the Chief Sangha Nayaka?
It is high time we put our own house in order before fighting the external enemies. It is reported that the former president CBK has written to the Mahanayakas requesting urgent reform and we should be obliged to her for taking the lead.
There are many aspects that need urgent reform, the first being removal of caste barriers practiced by some Nikayas, which is the greatest insult to the Buddha who promoted equality. The second is the active encouragement of Bhikkhuni Sasana which has not happened in spite of the landmark ruling by the supreme court. The third is the establishment of proper disciplinary processes under a single Adhikarana Sangha Nayaka with powers and support than allowing the government to take over the control of even non-criminal Vinaya matters.
There are many other issues that need settlement like the controversy of the land of Buddha’s birth which seems to linger on. An expert committee should hear all evidence and settle this issue once and for all.
As I have pointed out on many occasions in these columns, it is high time a Dhamma Sangayana was held, as the last one was 70 years ago. Ideally, it should be different with active participation of lay experts as well. It is the duty of us Buddhists to ensure that the words of wisdom of the Buddha continue to enlighten generations to come.
By Dr Upul Wijayawardhana
Features
Vijaya Kumar: Academic, Activist & Genial Fellow-Traveller
The University of Ceylon, Peradeniya, was in our time, a less-crowded residential university, where everybody knew everybody else or at least knew of everybody else.
I knew of Emeritus Professor Vijaya Kumar of the Department of Chemistry at Peradeniya, or Kumar, as we referred to him fondly, before I got to know him. His dear wife Savitri, also a member of the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry, was nicknamed Kumee, by some of their students (of which vintage is unknown to me) and the duo were thereafter referred to affectionately as Kumar and Kumee.
The Faculty of Science became a regular haunt of mine as I would go there in the company of my batchmates to attend lectures on Basic Mathematics given by Professor Maheswaran, as it was a requirement for our General Arts Qualifying Examinations. I would also go there to listen to some excellent talks under a programme that was held in the auditorium of the Science Faculty referred to as “Popular Science Gossip”. The “gossip” at these talks were not confined solely to science but were broad enough to include Literature, History and other branches of knowledge as well. I would often spot Kumar in the audience at these talks or bump into him in the corridors of the Science Faculty. But I got to know him personally only after he became the Warden of Arunachalam, my hall of residence, during my undergraduate years initially, and later, as a member of the academic staff of the Department of English.
Our Science Faculty undergraduate contemporaries, especially those at Arunachalam Hall and its immediate neighbour, Jayatilaka Hall, both within a stone’s throw away from the Science Faculty, shared many an anecdote about Kumar and their other lecturers. One of these anecdotes, had to do with a spectacular (motor car) driving feat of Kumar’s. Legend has it that he drove from his university bungalow-home to the Faculty of Science deploying only the reverse gear of his car! Kumar, on hearing of this, had told certain of his student friends, including some who became his colleagues later on, that this story is one of the biggest yarns he had heard in his life!
Some of his one-time younger colleagues, now in retirement like Kumar, tell me that Kumar exuded warmth and friendliness in all of his professional and administrative interactions with others in the wider university community. But there was no warmth or mercy for those who indulged in the unsavoury pastime of student ‘ragging’. He was a very strong proponent of the need to ensure to all freshers an environment free of the menace of ‘ragging’. He remained ever-vigilant during the ‘ragging’ season. There are stories of his chasing ‘raggers’ and catching them. Professor Maheswaran, who later became an intimate friend and remains so after more than half a century, was another who was fiercely opposed to ‘ragging’. I was a personal witness to Mahes chasing a ‘ragger’ up and down the stairs of the main library to nab him. Yet another of his students has noted that Kumar’s office room in the Faculty was a total mess at all times. It had tables, piled so high with books and documents that one could not easily spot Kumar at his desk. He, however, had the knack of pulling out from amidst the clutter, any document that he needed at any given time. If anybody were to volunteer to help tidy his desk, Kumar would respond firmly with “Don’t you touch my desk!”.
Kumar, like several of his colleagues in the other faculties as well, had his own eccentricities. According to information received from reliable sources, Kumar who taught Organic Chemistry used to carry his lecture notes in his shirt or trouser pocket with ‘the entire lecture condensed in point form on a half-sheet or half of a half-sheet of paper’. The way he rummaged through his sling bag filled to the brim with stuff to find an item that he needed was another ritual that amused onlookers.
Kumar, interestingly enough is a Royal-cum-Thomian product, in that he had his primary education at S.Thomas’ Prep School, Kollupitiya and the entirety of his secondary education at Royal College, which he entered in 1953. In a note written by Kumar himself, he notes that despite having had excellent teachers at Royal, his was not a notable school career. He goes on to say that “the only achievement I could boast of was my being the joint-winner of the school General Knowledge Prize”. However, he had been active in a Scout Group outside of school (1st Port of Colombo, Sea Scouts) where he “was Queen’s Scout, Patrol leader, and later, Assistant Scout Master”.
Kumar entered the Faculty of Science of the University of Ceylon in 1961 and secured from it an honours degree in Chemistry in 1965. He joined the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry in the Faculty of Science, University of Ceylon, Peradeniya in 1965 and left the following year for Magdalen College at Oxford University, from which institution he obtained his doctorate in Chemistry. His entire teaching career was at Peradeniya, where in the period 2003-2006 he served as the Dean of the Faculty of Science, a position that his late father-in-law had held a few decades earlier.
Among the other highlights of his career are: Chairman of the Industrial Technology Institute (formerly the Ceylon Institute of Scientific and Industrial Research, CISIR); Member (representing Sri Lanka) of the Geneva-based UN Commission on Science and Technology from 1999 to 2007 and its President from 2001-2003; President of the Sri Lanka Estate Workers Union from 1989 onwards; Member of the Politburo of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party from 1988 to 2014 and currently, a member of the Executive Committee of the National People’s Power (NPP).
Vijaya and Savitri Kumar are parents of daughters Shamala and Ramya, who are following in the footsteps of their parents: with the former teaching in the Department of Agricultural Economics in the Faculty of Agriculture, University of Peradeniya and the latter, in the Department of Community Medicine at the University of Jaffna.
(I wish to thank the following who assisted me in the writing of this brief essay: Mr. Bandula Warnakulasuriya, Emeritus Professor Ratnayake Bandara, Professor Mahinda Wickramaratne, Professor Swarna Wimalasiri and Mr. Manik de Silva).
*Editor’s note: Prof. Vijaya Kumar, a member of the NPP’s National Executive Committee and is still active in politics turns 84 today. This article by Tissa Jayatilaka, former Executive Director of the United States – Sri Lanka Fulbright Commission for Mutual Academic Exchange, was written for an upcoming collection of essays on Kumar’s life by his friends.
(Colombo Telegraph)
By Tissa Jayatilaka
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