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

Cricket and the National Interest

Published

8 hours ago

2026/05/5

Sahan Weerasooriya

The appointment of former minister Eran Wickremaratne to chair the Sri Lanka Cricket Transformation Committee is significant for more than the future of cricket. It signals a possible shift in the culture of governance even as it offers Sri Lankan cricket a fighting possibility to get out of the doldrums of failure. There have been glorious patches for the national cricket team since the epochal 1996 World Cup triumph. But these patches of brightness have been few and far between and virtually non-existent over the past decade. At the centre of this disaster has been the failures of governance within Sri Lanka Cricket which are not unlike the larger failures of governance within the country itself. The appointment of a new reform oriented committee therefore carries significance beyond cricket. It reflects the wider challenge facing the country which is to restore trust in public institutions for better management.

The appointment of Eran Wickremaratne brings a professional administrator with a proven track record into the cricket arena. He has several strengths that many of his immediate predecessors lacked. Before the ascent of the present government leadership to positions of power, Eran Wickremaratne was among the handful of government ministers who did not have allegations of corruption attached to their names. His reputation for financial professionalism and integrity has remained intact over many years in public life. With him in the Cricket Transformation Committee are also respected former cricketers Kumar Sangakkara, Roshan Mahanama and Sidath Wettimuny together with professionals from legal and business backgrounds. They have been tasked with introducing structural reforms and improving transparency and accountability within cricket administration.

A second reason for this appointment to be significant is that this is possibly the first occasion on which the NPP government has reached out to someone associated with the opposition to obtain assistance in an area of national importance. The commitment to bipartisanship has been a constant demand from politically non-partisan civic groups and political analysts. They have voiced the opinion that the government needs to be more inclusive in its choice of appointments to decision making authorities. The NPP government’s practice so far has largely been to limit appointments to those within the ruling party or those considered loyalists even at the cost of proven expertise. The government’s decision in this case therefore marks a potentially important departure.

National Interest

There are areas of public life where national interest should transcend party divisions and cricket, beloved of the people, is one of them. Sri Lanka cannot afford to continue treating every institution as an arena for political competition when institutions themselves are in crisis and public confidence has become fragile. It is therefore unfortunate that when the government has moved positively in the direction of drawing on expertise from outside its own ranks there should be a negative response from sections of the opposition. This is indicative of the absence of a culture of bipartisanship even on issues that concern the national interest. The SJB, of which the newly appointed cricket committee chairman was a member objected on the grounds that politicians should not hold positions in sports administration and asked him to resign from the party. There is a need to recognise the distinction between partisan political control and the temporary use of experienced administrators to carry out reform and institutional restructuring. In other countries those in politics often join academia and civil society on a temporary basis and vice versa.

More disturbing has been the insidious campaign carried out against the new cricket committee and its chairman on the grounds of religious affiliation. This is an unacceptable denial of the reality that Sri Lanka is a plural, multi ethnic and multi religious society. The interim committee reflects this diversity to a reasonable extent. The country’s long history of ethnic conflict should have taught all political actors the dangers of mobilising communal prejudice for short term political gain. Sri Lanka paid a very heavy price for decades of mistrust and division. It would be tragic if even cricket administration became another arena for communal suspicion and hostility. The present government represents an important departure from the sectarian rhetoric that was employed by previous governments. They have repeatedly pledged to protect the equal rights of all citizens and not permit discrimination or extremism in any form.

The recent international peace march in Sri Lanka led by the Venerable Bhikkhu Thich Paññākāra from Vietnam with its message of loving kindness and mindfulness to all resonated strongly with the masses of people as seen by the crowds who thronged the roadsides to obtain blessings and show respect. This message stands in contrast to the sectarian resentment manifested by those who seek to use the cricket appointments as a weapon to attack the government at the present time. The challenges before the Sri Lanka Cricket Transformation Committee parallel the larger challenges before the government in developing the national economy and respecting ethnic and religious diversity. Plugging the leaks and restoring systems will take time and effort. It cannot be done overnight and it cannot succeed without public patience and support.

New Recognition

There is also a need for realism. The appointment of Eran Wickremaratne and the new committee does not guarantee success. Reforming deeply flawed institutions is always difficult. Besides, Sri Lanka is a small country with a relatively small population compared to many other cricket playing nations. It is also a country still recovering from the economic breakdown of 2022 which pushed the majority of people into hardship and severely weakened public institutions. The country continues to face unprecedented challenges including the damage caused by Cyclone Ditwah and the wider global economic uncertainties linked to conflict in the Middle East. Under these difficult circumstances Sri Lanka has fewer resources than many larger countries to devote to both cricket and economic development.

When resources are scarce they cannot be wasted through corruption or incompetence. Drawing upon the strengths of all those who are competent for the tasks at hand regardless of party affiliation or ethnic or religious identity is necessary if improvement is to come sooner rather than later. The burden of rebuilding the country cannot rest only on the government. The crisis facing the country is too deep for any single party or government to solve alone. National recovery requires capable individuals from across society and from different sectors such as business and civil society to work together in areas where the national interest transcends party politics. There is also a responsibility on opposition political parties to support initiatives that are politically neutral and genuinely in the national interest. Not every issue needs to become a partisan battle.

Sri Lanka cricket occupies a special place in the national consciousness. At its best it once united the country and gave Sri Lankans a sense of pride and international recognition. Restoring integrity and professionalism to cricket administration can therefore become part of the larger task of national renewal. The appointment of Eran Wickremaratne and the new committee, while it does not guarantee success, is a sign that the political leadership and people of the country may be beginning to mature in their approach to governance. In recognising the need for competence, integrity and bipartisan cooperation and extending it beyond cricket into other areas of national life, Sri Lanka may find the way towards more stable and successful governance..

by Jehan Perera

Features

From Dhaka to Sri Lanka, three wheels that drive our economies

Published

8 hours ago

2026/05/5

Sahan Weerasooriya

Court vacation this year came with an unexpected lesson, not from a courtroom but from the streets of Dhaka — a city that moves, quite literally, on three wheels.

Above the traffic, a modern metro line glides past concrete pillars and crowded rooftops. It is efficient, clean and frequently cited as a symbol of progress in Bangladesh. For a visitor from Sri Lanka, it inevitably brings to mind our own abandoned light rail plans — a project debated, politicised and ultimately set aside.

But Dhaka’s real story is not in the air. It is on the ground.

Beneath the elevated tracks, the streets belong to three-wheelers. Known locally as CNGs, they cluster at junctions, line the edges of markets and pour into narrow roads that larger vehicles avoid. Even with a functioning rail system, these three-wheelers remain the city’s most dependable form of everyday transport.

Within hours of arriving, their importance becomes obvious. The train may take you across the city, but the journey does not end there. The last mile — often the most complicated part — belongs entirely to the three-wheeler. It is the vehicle that gets you home, to a meeting or simply through streets that no bus route properly serves.

There is a rhythm to using them. A destination is mentioned, a price is suggested and a brief negotiation follows. Then the ride begins, edging into traffic that feels permanently compressed. Drivers move with instinct, adjusting routes and squeezing through gaps with a confidence built over years.

It is not polished. But it works.

And that is where the comparison with Sri Lanka becomes less about what we lack and more about what we already have.

Back home, the three-wheeler has long been part of daily life — so familiar that it is often discussed only in terms of its problems. There are frequent complaints about fares, refusals or the absence of meters. More recently, the industry itself has become entangled in politics — from fuel subsidies to regulatory debates, from election-time promises to periodic crackdowns.

In that process, the conversation has shifted. The three-wheeler is often treated as a problem to be managed, rather than a service to be strengthened.

Yet, seen through the experience of Dhaka, Sri Lanka’s system begins to look far more settled — and, in many ways, ahead.

There is a growing structure in place. Meters, while not perfect, are widely recognised. Ride-hailing apps have added transparency and reduced uncertainty for passengers. There are clearer expectations on both sides — driver and commuter alike. Even small details, such as designated parking areas in parts of Colombo or the increasing standard of vehicles, point to an industry slowly moving towards professionalism.

Just as importantly, there is a human element that remains intact.

In Sri Lanka, a three-wheeler ride is rarely just a transaction. Drivers talk. They offer directions, comment on the day’s news, or share local knowledge. The ride becomes part of the social fabric, not just a means of getting from one point to another.

In Dhaka, the scale of the city leaves less room for that. The interaction is quicker, more direct, shaped by urgency. The service is essential, but it is under constant pressure.

What stands out, across both countries, is that the three-wheeler is not a temporary or outdated mode of transport. It is a necessity in dense, fast-growing Asian cities — one that fills gaps no rail or bus system can fully address.

Large infrastructure projects, like light rail, are important. They bring efficiency and long-term capacity. But they cannot replace the flexibility of a three-wheeler. They cannot reach into narrow streets, respond instantly to demand or provide that crucial last-mile connection.

That is why, even in a city that has invested heavily in modern rail, Dhaka still runs on three wheels.

For Sri Lanka, the lesson is not simply about what could have been built, but about what should be better managed and valued.

The three-wheeler industry does not need to be politicised at every turn. It needs steady regulation — clear fare systems, proper licensing, safety standards — alongside encouragement and recognition. It needs to be seen as part of the solution to urban transport, not as a side issue.

Because for thousands of drivers, it is a livelihood. And for millions of passengers, it is the most immediate and reliable form of mobility.

The tuk-tuk may not feature in grand policy speeches or infrastructure blueprints. It does not run on elevated tracks or attract international attention. But on the ground, where daily life unfolds, it continues to do what larger systems often struggle to do — show up, adapt and keep moving.

And after watching Dhaka’s streets — crowded, relentless, yet functioning — that small, three-wheeled vehicle feels less like something to argue over and more like something to get right.

(The writer is an Attorney-at-Law with over a decade of experience specialising in civil law, a former Board Member of the Office of Missing Persons and a former Legal Director of the Central Cultural Fund. He holds an LLM in International Business Law)

by Sampath Perera recently in Dhaka, Bangladesh

Features

Dubai scene … opening up

Published

8 hours ago

2026/05/5

Sahan Weerasooriya

Seven Notes: Operating in Dubai

According to reports coming my way, the entertainment scene, in Dubai, is very much opening up, and buzzing again!

After a quieter few months, May is packed with entertainment and the whole scene, they say, is shifting back into full swing.

The Seven Notes band, made up of Sri Lankans, based in Dubai, are back in the spotlight, after a short hiatus, due to the ongoing Middle East problems.

On 18th April they did Legends Night at Mercure Hotel Dubai Barsha Heights; on Thursday, 9th May, they will be at the Sports Bar of the Mercure Hotel for 70s/80s Retro Night; on 6th June, they will be at Al Jadaf Dubai to provide the music for Sandun Perera live in concert … and with more dates to follow.

These events are expected to showcase the band’s evolving sound, tighter stage coordination, and stronger audience engagement.

With each performance, the band aims to refine its identity and build a loyal following within Dubai’s vibrant nightlife and event scene.

Pasindu Umayanga: The group’s new vocalist

What makes Seven Notes standout is their versatility which has made the band a dynamic and promising act.

With a growing performance calendar, new talent integration, and international ambitions, the band is definitely entering a defining phase of its journey.

Dubai’s music industry, I’m told, thrives on diversity, energy, and audience connection, with live bands playing a crucial role in elevating events—from corporate shows to private concerts. Against this backdrop, Seven Notes is positioning itself not just as another band, but as a performance-driven musical unit focused on consistency and growth.

Adding fresh momentum to the group is Pasindu Umayanga who joins Seven Notes as their new vocalist. This move signals a strategic upgrade—not just filling a role, but strengthening the band’s front-line presence.

Looking beyond local stages, Seven Notes is preparing for an international tour, to Korea, in July.

Bassist Niluk Uswaththa: Spokesperson for Seven Notes

According to bassist Niluk Uswaththa, taking a band abroad means: Your sound must hold up against unfamiliar audiences, your performance must translate beyond language, and your discipline must be at a professional level.

“If executed well, this tour could redefine Seven Notes from a local band into an emerging international act,” added Niluk.

He went on to say that Dubai is not an easy market. It’s saturated with highly experienced, multi-genre bands that can adapt instantly to any crowd.

“To stand out consistently you need to have tight rehearsal discipline, unique sound identity (not just covers), strong stage chemistry, audience retention – not just applause.”

No doubt, Seven Notes is entering a critical growth phase—new member, multiple shows, and an international tour on the horizon. The opportunity is real, but so is the pressure.

However, there is talk that Seven Notes will soon be a recognised name in the regional music scene.