Features

A YOUNG CCS OFFFICER IN THE PROVINCES IN THE 1950s

Published

4 years ago

2022/06/5

by Chandra Arulpragasam

Every young officer in the government service should serve some time in the provinces. This is necessary to observe the ways in which government services interact with the people – and to learn what the people think of them. It is also a good preparation for higher posts in the government, where field-level experience is invaluable as a training to work at the national level. Moreover, at the field level, one can can be lucky to see the results of one’s work; whereas at the department or ministry level, one’s work may be swept away by policy or other interventions. Hence I was fortunate to serve in two kachcheries in my cadetship of two years in the CCS, plus a posting of three years in a district. My stories spring from those years.

On Death Row in Kandy

One of the duties of the Government Agent (Kandy) was to ensure that the death sentences imposed by the Supreme Court were in fact carried out/executed. (I had always wondered how a man could be “executed”; in fact, it is only the sentence of death that is executed). Unfortunately, this too was a function passed on to me by the Government Agent, a very senior Burgher gentleman, who had known my father. He used to pass on many disagreeable functions to his podi putha, who was only a Cadet in training. So at the tender age of 23 years, I had to preside over the hanging of a man who had been sentenced to death by the Supreme Court for killing his wife.

In looking over the case, I found that the man concerned was an Indian estate laborer, who had committed a crime of passion. On entering his own house, he had found his wife sleeping with another man. In his rage, he had killed her – for which he had been sentenced to death by hanging. And it was up to me, as the representative of the government, to execute that sentence of death. According to the protocol, it is the forensic surgeon who has to certify that the victim is clinically dead, whereas I, as the agent of the Government, had to certify that the sentence of death had been carried out. Fortunately for me, I found that the forensic surgeon was Dr. Sourjah, who had been my team-mate in the University rugby team. So I hastily made a deal with him that I would not witness the hanging myself, but would depend on his certification of death to sign off on my duty – that the sentence of death had been carried out.

So early one morning at 5 a.m., with great trepidation, I entered the death row of the Bogambara prison in Kandy. I was taken to the sentenced man’s cell, but he was not there: for he was worshipping his God at the adjoining Hindu shrine. In accordance with tradition, the last night’s meal was to be a grand one, since it was to be his last on earth. But it was still on the table – untouched from previous night. Then the ‘dead man’ was brought in. He wore a white-hooded suit, with his hands and feet in chains. I looked at him – and I can hardly describe what I saw. His face, eyes and countenance were ethereal and luminous. He was glowing with a spirituality that I had never seen in any face before. In my mind, he had asked and had been given forgiveness by his God – and he was ready to go to the next world.

But what followed was even more devastating for me. He came up to me with his face glowing with this ethereal spirituality; he then fell at my feet and worshipped me, asking for my forgiveness. He had rendered his soul to his God: he was now rendering his body to Caesar, to me as the representative of the state. I rushed to raise him to his feet, almost apologizing to him for what I had to do. But he was ready to go and just wanted my blessing.

I did not look as he took his last walk to the gallows. But I could not avoid hearing the sickening drop of the trap-door, nor the jerk of the rope. As agreed with my friend the forensic surgeon, I did not look at the dead body. Based on his two line report, I quickly signed that the convicted man had been hanged till he was dead, dead, dead – and rushed out of the building.

Taking ‘Bribes’

When I was Assistant Government Agent of the Batticaloa District, I had to go to the Unichchai Colonization Scheme to sort out various problems of land and water use. I had worked hard for the poor colonists – and probably they appreciated this. When concluding one of my visits, I found the colonists loading some fresh vegetables into my car. This may have been a traditional practice for lower level officials, but in my best CCS tradition and with stiff bureaucratic upper-lip, I was outraged that the colonists were trying to ‘bribe me’! For if I accepted, I would be morally guilty of taking a bribe.

So I first upbraided the Colonization Officer for permitting this. Secondly, in my moral righteousness and bureaucratic ‘virginity’, I ordered that everything should be taken out of my car at once! The poor colonists, dumbfounded, did not know what to make of this, since they had probably been doing this for years, either through respect or appreciation. But I insisted, standing righteous and firm – and they bewildered, meekly and mutely obeyed! None of them had given very much, because they were poor. Each had put in some small thing- a small gourd here, a bunch of bananas there, or a few green chillies. But I insisted that everything should be taken out, with my car completely cleared of their ‘bribes’!

But one colonist said it all. While taking his five green chillies out of the car, he said: ‘Sir, I have put only five green chillies into your car. But in return for my affection and respect, you have in effect slapped me in my face, just for showing my respect!’ I became so ashamed that I had not accepted their ‘bribes’! But since I had already given my implacable bureaucratic order, I could not take it back. In hindsight, I was glad that I had made that order, for it served me in the future, not only here but all over the district – that I would not accept the practices of the past. But it would also help me to avoid the hurt of ordering all the things out of my car, as I had done in the current case. But I left, biting my lip for the bureaucratic prig that I had made of myself – for the hurt that I had caused them in return for their pains.

Communal Discord in a Colonization Scheme

I had to confront communal clashes in the Batticaloa District when the ‘Sri’ troubles broke out in 1956. Since the Sinhalese had killed Tamils in other districts, the word had spread to the Batticaloa District, where the Tamils now wanted to kill the few Sinhalese in the Scheme in retaliation. This was in 1956 when the Gal Oya colonization had just been started, and about 20 years before the Tigers took up arms against the state. My story is about the colonists of the Unichchai Colonization Scheme in the north of the district. There were five Sinhalese there, who as former land development workers had been allotted lands under the scheme. They, having married local Tamil women, had settled down there. But when news reached the locals (this was a 100 per cent Tamil area) that their people were being killed by Sinhalese in other districts, they threatened violence against the few harmless Sinhalese colonists.

The Colonization Officer rang urgently to warn me of impending violence. I summoned a meeting of all the colonists and drove there immediately (it was about 22 miles away). After assuring the Sinhala colonists in Sinhala, that I would look after them, I addressed the big meeting of colonists who were entirely Tamil. I told them that whether Sinhalese or Tamil, they shared the same problems of water shortage and poverty. They were hanging their washing on their same common fence and borrowing rice from each other in times of need.

But now, just because some fools were killing others somewhere else, how did it affect their hitherto amicable relations with neighbours who shared the same problems? Instead, I asked why they hadn’t thought of killing me, who was richer than they, had power over them, etc, instead of trying to kill their poor Sinhala neighbours who had done them no harm? This leftist talk alarmed them – because they had never heard this kind of talk before. I also knew that I was a bit of a fraud, since I knew that they would not harm me. But it was a novel idea to them – and it worked: for it completely defused the tension.

Yet I had to move from the theoretical to the practical, since passions were running high. So I named four Tamil-surrounding neighbours of every Sinhala family, telling them that I would hold them responsible for the safety of their Sinhala neighbor. I warned them that if they allowed anyone to touch even a hair on the head of their Sinhalese brothers, they (the four Tamil neighbours) would be expelled from the Colonization Scheme forthwith. The result was a resounding success: no Sinhala colonist was ever harmed. I was even more richly rewarded when I found within three months that the Sinhalese and Tamil neighbours were again hanging their washing together on their same common fence – a good sign of communal harmony!

Presiding at an Election

Actually, I did not preside over the Parliamentary elections: the Government Agent as Returning Officer did. However, a a ‘Presiding Officer’, I had definite duties: first, for staffing the polling booths with government staff officers; second, for supervising the actual elections in the polling booths; and third, for the counting of ballots after the voting was done.

On Election Day, I set out to monitor most of the polling booths. On one of these monitoring missions, I went to Kattankudi, a Muslim town just south of Batticaloa, where I was able to see an act of impersonation first hand. A pregnant Muslim woman, with a sari pulled over her face with only the eyes showing, was challenged. To my utter surprise, ‘she’ was unveiled to reveal a man with a beard and a pillow around his waist, pretending to be pregnant!

I still had to cast my own ballot for the Batticaloa town seat. Fortunately or unfortunately, I knew all the candidates for that seat. When I came to the polling station, each of the candidates bowed and smiled, each of them expecting me to vote for them. I was an LSSP supporter at that time and since there was no LSSP candidate in the race, I did not know whom to vote for. I went into the polling booth and impulsively drew a caricature/cartoon of each of the three candidates against their names.

On Election night, there was a grand counting of votes. I was dreading that my ballot (with the cartoon of the candidates) would come up for my own ruling. Indeed it did: and I was the first to shout “Spoilt Ballot”. I heard one of the candidates muttering loudly “bloody fool” – aimed at the person who had cast that ballot! I hastened to agree! I had acted irresponsibly as a presiding officer. On the other hand, it was my own ballot – and if I chose to spoil it, that was my right!

Chief Guest at a Ceremonial Function

I had just begun my term as Assistant Government Agent of the Batticaloa District in 1955, when the Government Agent asked me to carry out a ceremonial function on his behalf. Since the office of the Government Agent was held in peculiarly high esteem in that district, candidates seeking election to Parliament would often try to make out that they were on very good terms with the Government Agent. With this intent, a Muslim Parliamentary candidate for the Kalmunai seat invited the GA to ceremonially open a multipurpose cooperative store. This was an invitation which the GA could hardly refuse, since the establishment of cooperative societies was a high priority of the government.

Seizing this propaganda opportunity, the prospective candidate got thousands of his supporters to attend the opening ceremony, making it into a huge political tamasha. He even had songs to be sung at the ceremony, which included the Government Agent’s name (Mr. Pullenayegum) and his many ascribed virtues printed on the ceremonial song-sheets. Unfortunately, the GA had to cancel at the last minute and deputed me to attend this ceremonial function on his behalf. Without batting an eyelid, the wily candidate had Mr. Pullenayagam’s name erased and my name ‘Arulpragasam’ substituted on all the printed sheets, accusing me falsely of all the virtues originally ascribed to Mr. Pullenayegum!

But even I, who had undertaken this venture lightly, was somewhat awed by the event. Crowds lined the streets, which were decorated with bunting and gokkala. Formally attired in coat and tie, I was received amidst fanfare by a big orchestra playing Tamil music and was ceremoniously escorted to preside at a massive meeting. Here, I had to make a ceremonial speech, in which I managed to praise the government’s cooperative program while artfully and judiciously avoiding any mention of the candidate!

I was then taken in procession to the site of the new cooperative building. But this was no simple procession: it was led by an orchestra playing Tamil music with the blare of the nagasalam and flutes, accompanied by an obsessive beating of drums. The orchestra was followed by a group of dancing girls dressed in flamboyant colours but modestly so, because this was a very conservative Muslim area, while lustily singing my false virtues, as printed in the song-sheets. Next came I, walking regally on white pavada (white ceremonial cloth) along the main Kalmunai-Batticaloa Road, on which all traffic had been stopped for over two hours.

Meanwhile, pavada was being laid continuously at my feet, while chinese crackers (cheena-patas) were being set off all around me, while layer upon layer of garlands of flowers were being landed on my neck continuously. To add to my problems, my pants were a little loose, so that I had to hold onto them with one hand while marching pompously on the pavada, jumping at the crackers exploding around me, being garlanded with flowers reaching over my nostrils, while keeping a discreet eye open for the dancing girls!

Meanwhile crowds had lined the roads on which all traffic had been halted. Fortunately my face could not be seen for most of the time, since it was covered with garlands of flowers. But just when we were passing the Karativu junction (where the Amparai Road meets the north-south Batticaloa Road) my garlands were removed to pile on new ones, leaving me unmasked for a moment. As my bad luck would have it, the first two cars held up on the Amparai Road carried some guys whom I knew at the ‘Varsity. They were returning from a hunting trip in the Gal Oya area and had been cursing at this procession that had delayed them for over two hours.

But when the garlands were removed for a moment, they found that I was the cause of all their trouble! So they started hooting: ‘Ado Aru, Hoo! etc’, accompanied by appropriate expletives. Thus holding on to my pants, jumping for the fire crackers while walking ceremoniously on the pavada, trying to breathe through the garlands, I was also hooted by my friends. As soon as I reached the cursed co-operative store, I hastily cut the ceremonial ribbon and fled the scene as fast as I could – with all the roads opening up behind me! Thus ended an embarrassing episode of my short ceremonial life!

(The writer had a short career in the Ceylon Civil Service before accepting an appointment with FAO in Rome where he had a long career)

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Features

The significance of “Control” in foreign relations

Published

2 days ago

2026/07/3

Thilina Walpola

US Assistant Secretary of State South and Central Asian Affairs, Paul Kapur, Deputy Defence Minister Aruna Jayaskera, and Navy Commande Vice Admiral Kanchana Banagoda and others aboard SLNS Gajabahu.

Foreign Relations are all about “Control” particularly in the context of Relations between Major Powers such as the USA, China and India and small sovereign States such as Sri Lanka. While in the case of such relations, benefits to both parties are inevitable, the need to do so is invariably driven by the national interests of the Major Powers because their interests far outweigh those of small States. This mismatch of interests is what calls for “Control” of relations by Major Powers

The advice to Sri Lanka by Foreign Relations experts thus far has been to balance challenges arising from such Relations, not realising that the compulsions driven by the interests of Major Powers are such that balancing by itself does not have the needed capabilities to overcome the consequences arising from Major Power Rivalries; a fact evidenced by the recent Middle East war.

For instance, the need for the USA to strengthen the capabilities of the Sri Lankan Navy is driven by the strategic location of Sri Lanka since it is the gateway to the Indo-Pacific. Notwithstanding such motivations, it cannot be denied that the infrastructure provided to Sri Lanka’s Navy was handy to meet internal challenges as it was during the final stages of the Armed Conflict to destroy arsenals of the LTTE out at sea and the capacity to meet both external and internal threats to and within Sri Lanka.

Similarly, one of China’s primary interests is its Belt and Road Initiative. Towards this end, China has established a solid foot print in Sri Lanka by building and owning solid infrastructure projects for 99 years and more, if it is in China’s interest. However, although benefits from such projects cannot be denied, the open question is whether their scale was established to suit China’s interests or sought by Sri Lanka to suit Sri Lanka’s interests. For instance, the offer to build a 200,000 barrels a day Refinery by Sinopec of China has more to do with serving China’s interests, in view of the decision by the Sri Lankan Government to expand the Refinery at Sapugaskanda to 100,000 barrels a day.

In the case of India, the issues are more complex arising from Sri Lanka’s proximity to India, the cultural and historical heritage shared by both and the presence of the Tamil community in both countries. Consequently, India is extremely conscious of the need to keep a sharp eye and “Control” developments taking place in Sri Lanka in respect of Sri Lanka’s relations with Major Powers. This concern is driven by the notion that the territorial security of India is dependent on Sri Lanka’s Relations with Major Powers; a concern that arises from India’s past territorial history where the territory of India was transformed from a motley group of Princely States into one unified sub-continent and then partitioned into two Nation States under the British Raj. Consequently, the present territory of India has been in existence only since its independence from Colonial Rule in 1947. Hence, the fear of history repeating itself is driven by internal compulsions and by external interventions.

US – SRI LANKA RELATIONS

Against the background of Geopolitical interests presented above, Sri Lanka adopted the Policy of Neutrality in 2019 and this Government continues to exercise and live by its Internationally recognised principles, as it did when Sri Lanka denied landing rights to US Aircraft during the Middle East conflict. Sri Lanka’s Foreign Minister stated that Sri Lanka was “always neutral” when he met the US Assistant Secretary of State for South and Central Asian Affairs to convey Sri Lanka’s appreciation for the assistance rendered to procure fuel during the Middle East crisis and for the maritime vessels and aircraft gifted to Sri Lanka (Daily News, June 23, 2026).

In the meantime, The Island has reported that the “US declares SLN its Indo-Pacific Partner” (June 25, 2026). A statement issued by the US Embassy in Colombo quotes the Assistant Secretary of State as having stated: “Today, we announced the delivery of US satellite communication technology to the Sri Lankan Navy, our Indo-Pacific partner: This secure, real-time connection—representing a transformational upgrade for the Sri Lankan Navy-– will be available aboard their entire fleet of offshore patrol vessels…” (Ibid).

There is no doubt whatsoever that these assets would collectively boost the capabilities of the SL Navy to “strengthen maritime domain awareness, improve operational coordination, support emergency response, help interdict vessels engaged in illicit trafficking etc.” (Ibid). However, the unilateral declaration by US that the SL Navy is a “Indo-Pacific Partner” of the US has NO validity unless such a declaration has the approval of the SL Government. Furthermore, such an approval by the SL Government would compromise its Policy of Neutrality to which the country has pledged.

Therefore, the declaration should be accompanied with a caveat, that being, that the partnership should NOT extend to the entirety of the Indo-Pacific but be limited to Sri Lanka’s Exclusive Economic Zone (EEC). It is only then that the SL Government is Internationally entitled to exercise its rights as a Neutral State, namely, to protect its territory under the UN Law of the Sea. Furthermore, considering the extent of Sri Lanka’s EEC in relation to the extent of the Indian Ocean, the Partnership would be proportionate.

CHINA – SRI LANKA RELATIONS

China’s interest is to consolidate its interests in its Belt and Road Initiative. Towards this end it has attempted to exercise “Control” over Sri Lanka by offering infrastructure projects of a scale that benefits China rather than Sri Lanka as evidenced by the example of the offer by Sinopec Refinery cited above. This example demonstrate that Sri Lanka should be faulted for accepting projects offered without question and when questioned, based on local evaluations of scale to meet Sri Lankan needs as in the case of the existing Refinery at Sapugaskanda, the scale of projects become significantly less. The lesson to be learnt from this experience is that no project offered should be accepted without question in respect of its suitability to Sri Lanka in all respects, if Sri Lanka is not to become a victim of self-inflicted debt traps.

INDIA –SRI LANKA RELATIONS

How India “Controls” Sri Lanka is by making Sri Lanka politically and economically vulnerable and dependent on India, not only through physical connectivity, but also by being a handmaiden in internal political arrangements where power is devolved to Provinces that are a threat to Sri Lanka’s territorial integrity (13^th Amendment) and also by focusing development that benefit the Tamil community in Sri Lanka. The end result is to keep relations between communities in Sri Lanka on the “boil”, much against the interests of Sri Lanka to function as a united Nation State.

The proposal to connect Sri Lanka with India with under-water pipelines to transfer petroleum products from the Middle East and Power Grids would make Sri Lanka vulnerable and dependent on India as Germany was with Natural Gas from Russia when Nord-Stream I and II were sabotaged. Similarly, the road access through a Land Bridge connecting India and Sri Lanka would legalize access between the two countries that today takes place illegally because of the disparity in wages and livelihoods.

Despite such possible outcomes, there is a concerted effort by individuals and a body of NGOs who are of the opinion that it is in the best interests of Sri Lanka for Sri Lanka to hitch its wagons to the rising star of India. Others are grateful to India as the first responder to Sri Lanka at times of need, mindless of the weekly destruction of Sri Lanka’s marine resources etc. caused by thousands of fishing boats from India resorting to illegal fishing practices whose value over the years are beyond assessment.

CONCLUSIION

The reason for the recent conflict in the Middle East is all about “Control” of Nation States by Major Powers in pursuit of their Geopolitical interests. The need to “Control” Sri Lanka by the US is because of Sri Lanka’s location to the Indo-Pacific and by China because Sri Lanka is a vital link to its Belt and Road Initiative. On the other hand, Relations with India are influenced and guided by India’s obsession with the sustainability of its territorial integrity because that is what makes India a Major Power. The survival of Sri Lanka in such a complex background depends on how astutely Sri Lanka protects its Policy of Neutrality.

By Neville Ladduwahetty

Features

“Sir”: A prefix or a suffix in Sri Lanka?

Published

2 days ago

2026/07/3

Thilina Walpola

A file picture of King Charles making Sir Stephen Hough a Knight Bachelor at Windsor Castle.

The word “Sir” is classically and linguistically associated with Great Britain and His Majesty’s English Language. As an esteemed prefix, it generally refers to a Knight, but very strictly speaking, that is perhaps a rather narrow and restricted synonym. While a Knight of the British Empire is the most common type of knight people encounter today, Great Britain actually has several different orders of knighthood, as well as an ancient rank that does not belong to any such order at all.

When someone is dubbed a knight in Britain and referred to as “Sir” X, Y or Z, they generally fall into one of three categories. The first is a Knight Bachelor, undoubtedly the oldest rank. This is the most common form of knighthood awarded for public service, arts, or science. In that context, one should think of Sir Elton John, Sir Paul McCartney, or Sir Ian McKellen. It is not a part of an explicit “Order”, like that of the British Empire. It is the oldest mechanical form of knighthood, dating back to the 13th century under King Henry III. The recipients are simply styled as Sir, followed by the first name, such as Sir Ian, without any post-nominal letters like KBE or OBE attached to the end of their name.

The second is a Knight Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (KBE). This is a specific group, established relatively recently in 1917 by King George V, to fill a gap for rewarding civilian and military effort during World War I. To qualify to be called “Sir” within this specific order, a man must be appointed as a Knight Commander (KBE) or a Knight Grand Cross (GBE).

The third is a group of Chivalric Orders, the so-called Elite and Ancient Orders. Several highly exclusive, ancient orders of knighthood sit much higher in precedence than the Order of the British Empire. These include the Most Noble Order of the Garter, the pinnacle of British honours founded in 1348, and scrupulously limited to the Monarch, the Prince of Wales, and only 24 other companion members. Then there is the Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Thistle, the highest chivalric honour in Scotland. The last of this group is the Most Honourable Order of the Bath; typically awarded to high-ranking military officers and senior civil servants.

The Summary Rule of this entire scenario is that every Knight of the British Empire (KBE) is a British Knight, but not every British Knight is a Knight of the British Empire. If you see a modern British knight who does not have military or diplomatic ties, odds are high that they are actually a Knight Bachelor.

With reference to the title of this presentation, now for the flip side of this, as we see things in our region of the globe. In Great Britain, it is the standard form of address to refer to a Knight as Sir John, Sir Ian etc. However, in Sri Lanka, as well as in the Indian sub-continent, very often people use the word “Sir” as a suffix or a postfix to honour someone and frequently use “X Sir”; the name followed by the word “Sir” as a suffix or postfix.

It is a fascinating linguistic oddity, and Sri Lanka is definitely not alone in this, and most definitely, we are second to none in that outlook. While using “Sir” as a suffix or postfix (e. g., De Silva Sir, Nihal Sir) completely cartwheels over the standard British etiquette, where “Sir” must strictly prefix a first name. This charming practice of using it as a suffix is actually widespread across South Asia and parts of Southeast Asia. It is a classic example of dialectal crossbreeding, where local grammatical structures and cultural norms go to the extent of rewriting even the rules of the standard English as a language.

In a very broad sense, this phenomenon is very definitely seen in the Indian Subcontinent (E.g. Sri Lanka, India, Bangladesh, Nepal, Bhutan and Pakistan). This is arguably where the “Name + Sir” phenomenon is largest and perhaps even the strongest. Across Sri Lanka, India and Bangladesh, you will constantly hear people refer to superiors, teachers, or public figures as Karu Sir, Vijay Sir, Sachin Sir, Shahrukh Sir, or Ahmad Sir, etc.

Then there is the Indian “Ji” Factor: In Indian languages like Hindi or Punjabi, it is a strict cultural taboo to call an elder or a superior by their bare name. People naturally append the respectful suffix “Ji” (e. g., Gandhi-ji, Sharma-ji). It is then no surprise at all that when switching to English, the Indian mind seamlessly swaps the local suffix Ji for the English honorific Sir, thereby turning Vijay-ji into Vijay Sir.

In Hong Kong, a very specific variation of this exists within the police force and civil service. Influenced by decades of British administration, mixed with Cantonese naming customs, junior officers and the public address superiors by their surname followed by “Sir”, such as “Wong-Sir” or “Chan-Sir“. There is even a universal colloquial generic term, “Ah-Sir“, used commonly to address male police officers or teachers.

In the Philippines, while the syntax is slightly different, the sheer density of “Sir/Madam, Ma’am” usage matches that of Sri Lanka. Filipinos deeply value hierarchical courtesy. While they might say “Sir Jason“, it is incredibly common to use “Sir” almost like a pronoun or a mid-sentence suffix punctuation mark when addressing superiors, bosses, or clients, to ensure that respect is suitably maintained conscientiously.

The mismatch between British English and South/Southeast Asian English comes down to how different native cultures view status and intimacy. In South Asia, especially in Sri Lanka, there is the Linguistic Tradition of the suffix, where an extension in the nation’s own language is inserted into a word to enhance its status. In languages like Sinhala (-thuma / –mahathmaya), in Tamil (-ayyah / –avargal), and in Hindi (-ji), respect is always attached to the end of a name. It simply means that forcefully bringing a sleek word that implies social deference to the front, like Sir John, feels syntactically peculiar or even inappropriate to a native speaker of these local languages.

The “First Name Dilemma” is another type of rather quaint occurrence. In the West, calling your boss simply “John” is seen as a gesture that is egalitarian, free and open. In South Asia, calling an elder or superior by their first name feels somewhat jarringly rude. Conversely, using just “Mr Perera” can also feel too cold, official and even distant. “Perera Sir” or “Silva Sir” strikes the perfect culturally mitigatory concession, as it maintains a warm, personal connection by using the surname while also overtly and safely conveying a layer of professional public respect by adding the word “Sir” as a suffix or a postfix.

Yet for all that, it is worth noting that fundamentally, all languages are symbolic expressions of human thought and human intelligence. Whether expressed as spoken, written or sign language, all dialects are means of human communication. The type of words like “Sir” that we use in the English Language and the real context in which they are used indicate our thoughts in our human intellect. When they are used appropriately, they reflect our commitment to uninhibited respect and even admiration. While the British people and even their Monarch might feel quite a bit confused to hear someone called “Perera Sir”, right across Sri Lanka and its neighbouring nations. Yet for all that, it is simply the most natural and fusion technique to bridge and integrate traditional deference and admiration with modern expressive English.

by Dr B. J. C. Perera
Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow,
Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka.
An independent freelance correspondent.

Features

The Murder Room

Published

2 days ago

2026/07/3

Thilina Walpola

Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 8

The Murder Room gets its title from a room of that name in a museum dedicated to Victorian memorabilia, including famous murders, which are featured in that room. But the first murder in the story occurs outside, when one of the trustees, who had been against renewing the lease of the building – which would have meant the museum having to close – is set on fire when he comes to the museum late one evening to pick up the car in which he went away for weekends. This was a regular habit, and the murderer had obviously lain in wait, with a can of petrol, and set him on fire.

James

I took several books with me when I went to England earlier this year, but as usual I read hardly any of them, finding enough and more of interest in the shelves of those I stayed with. My first stop was at New College, where, as on several previous occasions I stayed in what is known as the Bishop’s Room, on the topmost storey of the Warden’s Lodgings. Sadly, I shall not stay there again, for my friend who has been Warden there for a decade now, Miles Young, retires this year.

The bookshelves there have much of interest though on the last couple of occasions I have concentrated on the detective stories, which Miles says are not his, but came with the house. The second I read this time was by the generally workmanlike P. D. James, whose Adam Dalgliesh is in the long line of whimsical but efficient detectives that has Hercule Poirot at its head. Though I had not been impressed by the one novel I read, featuring James’ female detective, Dalgliesh, I liked it, and this novel confirmed my affection.

The Murder Room

gets its title from a room of that name in a museum dedicated to Victorian memorabilia, including famous murders, which are featured in that room. But the first murder in the story occurs outside, when one of the trustees, who had been against renewing the lease of the building – which would have meant the museum having to close – is set on fire when he comes to the museum late one evening to pick up the car in which he went away for weekends. This was a regular habit, and the murderer had obviously lain in wait, with a can of petrol, and set him on fire.

The other two trustees, his brother and his sister, obviously benefited from his death, for they promptly renewed the lease. The employees of the museum also clearly benefited, for they had all found some sort of refuge here. These included the caretaker/cleaner, who lived in a cottage on the premises, a manager who was unpaid but used the place for his research, the receptionist, who also looked after the flat at the museum which was used by the sister, and two volunteers plus a gardener’s boy.

The caretaker, Tally, came across the fire before discovery had been intended, for an evening class everyone knew she went to on Fridays had been cancelled. On her way in she was knocked off her bicycle by a speeding car, the driver of which stopped to make sure she was safe, before speeding off again. She manages then to summon everyone else, including Dalgliesh, who had visited the museum for the first time a few days earlier, brought by a friend who relished its strange attractions.

The museum has to be closed for a few days while investigations are carried out, but in the course of them the friend brings some transatlantic visitors, and when they are in the Murder Room a chest (in which a body had been supposed to have been hidden in Victorian times) is opened, and a body found there. That murder, the autopsy indicated, had taken place around the time of the first murder.

The body was that of a girl who had attended a finishing school part-owned by the Dupayne sister. When Tally, by chance, sees the man who had knocked her down, and identifies him as a Lord who was known for his philanthropy, Dalgliesh realises that there are wheels within wheels here. The Lord confesses that he belonged to a group that met for promiscuous sex in the flat, and that he had planned to meet the girl there but she had not turned up.

Lord Martlesham, when the girl failed to appear, thought he should get away after the fire broke out. It was then that he had bumped into Tally, and his stopping to make sure she was all right indicated that he could not have been the murderer. Dalgliesh then deduced that the murderer had seen the girl at the window of the murder room, from which she must have seen the preparations for the murder. That was why she too had been killed.

Dalgliesh then has a fair idea of who the murderer was, but in waiting for proof, he leaves room for yet another murder to happen. For Tally, who had been mulling over something said on the night of the murder, asking about the petrol that caused the fire, realized that she had not mentioned petrol herself. This happened on her way back to her cottage, and not having a phone herself she goes into the museum to call, and then gets back to her cottage and locks herself in.

But then she hears her cat howling and goes out to find him strung up. She cuts him down, but when she goes back to the cottage the murderer is waiting and knocks her down. That happens in the section called The Third Victim, but this is in fact a boy on a motorbike knocked down by the speeding car of the escaping murderer. So Dalgliesh is able to effect an arrest when he turns up as summoned, and fortunately is in time to resuscitate Tally and send her to hospital.

The reason for the murder and the identity of its perpetrator are then fairly straightforward, though the background to the second murder introduces an element of loose living that contrasts with the Victorian age, or at least the image it projected – undercut though that is by the murders highlighted in the Murder Room with their sexual overtones.

And there is another louche element in the adventures of the gardener’s boy, who lives with a Major who is homosexual, though he declares, truthfully it seems, that he was not attracted at all to the boy but had given him shelter because of his vulnerability. He is generally charming, but capable of rages, in one of which he knocked down the major, though he was forgiven. He had taken shelter with Tally, who was fond of him but decided she preferred to live alone, which was why she had sent him away the day before she was attacked.

The murdered brother was a psychiatrist, and it turns out that the mysterious weekends he spent away from his London home were spent at country inns, where he took long walks to clear his mind of the demons his practice kept bringing into it. His profession also contributed to his death, in addition to his standing in the way of the museum continuing to exist, for one of his patients, connected to the murderer, had set fire to herself.

Solid plotting, with all the loose ends tied up, of incidents and the bizarre cast of characters.