Opinion
Adikaram, a man like no other
38th death anniversary of Dr E. W. Adikaram falls today
By Professor J.B. Disanayaka
It happened about sixty years ago. I was just a lad of seventeen, studying in grade eleven at Ananda College. As I walked past the small playground in the centre of the primary school premises, I caught the sight of a small-made man in our national dress, walking towards the Principal’s office. A senior whispered, “That’s Dr. Adikaram”. I had a good look at him, the new President of the BTS [Buddhist Theosophical Society], which looked after Ananda as the country’s main Buddhist educational institution.
I saw him again about ten years later, at the office of the Indian High Commission, where I had gone to get a visa to go to India to attend a religious conference in Darjeeling, organised by the Quakers, a society known for their opposition to violence and war. Dr. Adikaram was also there to get his visa to attend the very same meeting. It was my rare privilege to have a word with him. We left to India by air, from Ratmalana, on the full-moon day of Wesak, 1959.
That was rather a coincidence, I thought, to go to India, the land of the Buddha’s birth, on the full-moon day of Wesak, which celebrates three events of His life — the Birth, the Enlightenment and the Passing Away. At Madras, we boarded the Howrah Express to Calcutta. There were four of us, all on our way to the Conference: Dr. Adikaram, Chris Pullenayagam, Chitra Wijesinha and me. I had the rare chance to sit next to Dr. Adikaram and chat with him for two long days!
Some of what he said took me by surprise. I just could not understand him when he said that he had seen my ‘astral body’ on three or four occasions when he was reading in his study at his house in Pagoda. Being a Theosophist, he was able to explain to me about ‘astral bodies’ but I simply could not take his word. It was so strange. So, I requested him to write all that on paper and he promised to do so on his return to Sri Lanka. And he did. It ran to about four or five foolscap pages!
As he sat in his study at Pagoda, he saw the glimpse of someone walking into his house. He came out of the room but there was none. This happened on a few more occasions and as days went by, he got a faint glimpse of the face of this strange man. He told all his friends, including Dr. Mahinda Palihawadana, the Principal of Ananda Sastralaya, whom he met in the morning at Pagoda, to keep track of this strange character. However, they saw no one that fits his frame. On his return from the Indian High Commission, he told his friends, “Well, I saw that man today!”
Quakers had chosen one of the most beautiful sites for their Conference, in a bungalow overlooking Mount Kanchenjunga, one of the world’s highest mountains in the Himalayan range, bordering India and Nepal. We spent about a week listening to lectures and discussing matters of ethical interest — on how to build a world without barriers. On my return to the Island, I contributed an article to the University journal and it was titled, ‘A World Without Barriers’.
Later, he took me to Adayar in Madras to listen to J. Krishnamurti at Vasanta Vihar. Krishnamurti was a man of stature, both physically and spiritually. I listened to him in earnest and found that his words made a lot of sense. ‘Conditioning’ is the word that made all the difference. We are all ‘conditioned’ by the world around us so much so that we fail to see reality. Our beliefs and dogmas, rites and rituals prevent us from seeing reality and all that prevents us from living in peace.
I had the chance to discuss some of these matters in detail with him intimately when I came to Pagoda to translate into Sinhala his PhD thesis, ‘Early History of Buddhism in Ceylon’. It was a wonderful model of research based on the study of Pali texts. He also made me study Pali so that I could do a better Sinhala translation. He assured to me that studying Pali was fun because he himself learnt it only after his first year at the University College, giving up science and mathematics.
I spent my vacations at Pagoda in the early sixties translating his book, but unfortunately, I could not finish the work because I had to leave on a Fulbright scholarship to California in 1963. I think he himself completed the translation but never forgot to acknowledge my contribution in his Sinhala Preface. Only a few knew it because in the Preface my name appears as ‘Jayaratna Banda Disanayaka’ of the Department of Sinhala of the University of Ceylon, Peradeniya!

Dr. Adikaram
Conditioning’, as Krishnamurti says, prevents our mind from seeing reality. So, we wanted to look at the nature of the mind itself, and we did a couple of experiments. I was at the Peradeniya campus and he was at Pagoda. We decided to set off a time on a particular day of the week to think about something, like rivers, mountains, animals and plants and so on. At the agreed upon time, I spent about five minutes, thinking about something in particular and jotted it down on a piece of paper. He did the same thing in his study at Pagoda. I posted my note to him and he sent his note to me. On many an occasion we have thought about the very same thing! Now, isn’t that strange!
Minds can communicate. Some call it telepathy. It still happens to me almost every day. I am writing this note on the fifteenth of March 2021. Let me tell you about a few strange coincidences that took place last month. On the ninth day of February I wanted to find out a little more about the Sinhala word san nam (brand name) and I thought of calling Achintya Bandara, a young lecturer in the Sinhala Department, because he said the other day that I am the san nam of Sinhala linguistics. In fifteen minutes, my mobile rings. It was Acintya Bandara.
On the 10th, Dr. Malini Endagama of the Mahavamsa Editorial Board wanted me to translate its fifth chapter into English. I was not interested and she wanted me to suggest another name. I thought of my friend, Austin Fernando, who was the Secretary to the President under a previous government, and who has written a book in English, titled ‘My Belly is White’. However, I was unable to contact him because I do not have his telephone number. A couple of hours later, Austin rang me to find out the meaning of a Sinhala word. What a bit of luck!
On the 13th of February, I wanted to write a short note on the Sinhala word kana kaesbaeva (blind sea-turtle). Then rings my mobile. “Sir, my name is Unantenne. What does kana kaesbeva viya siduren balanava mean? “Why on earth were we both thinking of the same blind mythical animal at the same time? What does all this mean? That the mind is strange. It was Dr. Adikaram who made me think about the unimaginable ways of the human mind.
His booklets in the Sitivili (Thoughts) series were all about the ways of the world and the ways of the mind. He always posed questions and wanted you to answer them along with him. Do you think or does thinking occur to you? Why do we get angry when others scold you? What do dreams tell you? Are there layers in the mind — deep and surface? Can the end justify the means?
I liked his style of writing in Sinhala — simple and straightforward. When I compiled a handbook on the correct usage in Sinhala, in 2018, I chose him as one of the seven modern writers who have a style of their own and who deserve to be imitated. He was also one of the first to write on Modern Science in Sinhala. He edited the first science magazine in Sinhala, titled Navina Vidya . He compiled a small English-Sinhala glossary for school children to help them learn science in Sinhala.
He was a man, a bachelor, who loved not women but nature — birds and flowers. At Pagoda I observed, every morning, how he kept food for the birds and watered his flower plants. Occasionally, he would call me and say, “Look how this flower smiles at me”. He allowed mice to hang around the garage as they pleased. Once he did not drive his car for a week because there were new-born little mice in the dicky!
Dr. Adikaram was a vegetarian not because it was a considered a sin (pav) to kill animals. “Even if someone were to tell me that it is a merit (pin) to kill animals, I shall not kill simply because it hurts animals”. He never visited the zoo because they had to kill many animals to keep other animals alive. Prof. Mahinda Palihawadana is still a vegetarian doing his best to make this a world where not only human beings but all beings can live in peace.
My interest was not in birds and plants but in language and culture. However, he was able to shift my attention to plants when he took me, along with Siri Palihawadana, who had an expensive camera, to the Peradeniya Botanical Gardens, to take pictures of certain trees for his textbooks on science. We sat under the shade of many trees and enjoyed our meals at leisure.
The 28th of December 1985 was a strange day. I was at the University of Edinburgh on a Commonwealth scholarship to study Applied Linguistics. On many a day, I would stop by the University Bookshop on Buccleuch Place to buy a book usually on Linguistics. However, when I browsed the books on the 28th, my attention was drawn to a book on Krishmanmurti and I was delighted to have got my hands on it.
I went back to my room and was reading Krishmnamurti, always thinking of Dr. Adikaram, who introduced me to him at Vasantha Vihar in Adayar. My telephone rang and it was Siri Palihawadana. “JB, I have some bad news to tell you. Doctor passed away a few hours ago.” Now isn’t that strange? To buy a book on Krishnamurti and read it, as Dr. Adikaram lay in his death bed?
Siri and his wife Lakshmi looked after Dr. Adikaram with utmost care and affection. I remember that he had a nursery of sandal-wood plants at the backyard and they were distributed to those who loved plants. As I write this note in the library of my daughter’s house, near the Sri Jayewardenepura campus, I see the young sandalwood tree in her garden, gifted to her by Ravi Palihawadana. It brings back memories of an unforgettable past, when Dr. Adikaram moulded my way of thought and my way of life.
Dr. Adikaram was like no other because different people saw him in different ways. He was an orientalist, with his knowledge of Pali and Sanskrit, a historian, who recorded the History of Early Buddhism in Ceylon educator who was the Principal of a leading Buddhist school, Ananda Sastralaya in Kotte, founder of the leading Buddhist girls’ school in Nugegoda, Anula Vidyalaya, science writer, and philosopher who did his best to mould the minds of the young to create a world without barriers.
Opinion
Rethinking our attitude towards three-wheeler industry
by Sampath Perera
An ordinary journey through Colombo raises uncomfortable questions about road discipline, passenger safety and our tendency to judge motorists by the vehicles they drive.
It was a little past noon when I finished attending a court matter and remembered that I had to visit a nearby bank before returning to my other work. The bank was hardly a kilometer away, a distance I would normally have walked without giving it much thought. However, anyone who has walked through Colombo in formal court attire under the scorching midday sun would appreciate why I was reluctant to do so. Taking my own vehicle was not particularly appealing either, as finding a parking space near a bank during business hours can sometimes take longer than the transaction itself.
After considering my options, I decided to take a three-wheeler, a perfectly ordinary decision that unexpectedly left me reflecting on the way we judge those who drive them. Within minutes, I was seated in the rear, travelling through the usual Colombo traffic. It was convenient, reasonably priced and saved me the trouble of searching for parking or arriving at the bank drenched in sweat. As we approached a busy junction, however, a car suddenly cut across our path without any indication. Its driver appeared determined to squeeze into a narrow gap, apparently unconcerned about the vehicles already occupying the road. Our three-wheeler driver immediately applied his brakes, throwing me slightly forward in my seat. Fortunately, he reacted quickly enough to avoid a collision, while the car continued on its way as though nothing unusual had happened.
The incident itself was hardly extraordinary by Colombo’s standards, but it made me consider how differently we might have reacted had the situation been reversed. If a three-wheeler had suddenly cut across a car in the same manner, the driver would probably have been subjected to angry horns, harsh words and the familiar accusation that three-wheeler drivers have no respect for road rules. Yet when someone driving a comfortable, air-conditioned car behaves just as irresponsibly, we tend to treat it as another unpleasant encounter in traffic. It seems that, in our public discussions about road discipline, the seriousness of an offence sometimes depends not so much on what a driver does, but on the vehicle he happens to be driving.
This is not an attempt to portray three-wheeler drivers as innocent victims of unfair criticism. Anyone who regularly travels on Sri Lankan roads knows that some drivers behave recklessly, stopping without warning, making dangerous U-turns, disregarding traffic signals and squeezing through gaps that sensible motorists would avoid. Such conduct deserves criticism and, where appropriate, legal action. Nevertheless, it would be equally dishonest to pretend that these practices are confined to three-wheelers. A few minutes spent observing traffic at a busy Colombo junction would reveal expensive cars changing lanes without indicating, SUVs obstructing pedestrian crossings, motorcycles weaving dangerously between vehicles and buses stopping wherever passengers signal them to do so.
What is troubling is our tendency to turn the misconduct of an individual three-wheeler driver into an indictment of an entire profession. A badly parked three-wheeler becomes another example of everything wrong with the industry, while a luxury car obstructing a pavement is generally treated as the irresponsible conduct of its particular driver. Perhaps this difference in perception has become so familiar that we rarely question it. Yet the law makes no distinction between an illegally parked vehicle costing several million rupees and one purchased through a modest leasing arrangement. Both can obstruct traffic, inconvenience pedestrians and create dangerous situations for other road users.
There is also considerable irony in our relationship with three-wheelers. We complain about their presence on the roads, accuse them of contributing to congestion and criticise the behaviour of their drivers, but the moment we need to reach somewhere quickly, avoid a parking problem or transport an elderly relative to a nearby hospital, we often turn to the very vehicles we complain about. In many rural communities, where public transport remains inadequate, three-wheelers provide an essential connection between homes, hospitals, markets and bus routes. Their contribution to everyday mobility is difficult to dismiss, particularly for people who cannot afford private vehicles or have limited transport alternatives.
The driver who took me to the bank that afternoon was simply earning his living. For him, the three-wheeler was not a symbol of traffic disorder or a subject for public debate, but a means of supporting himself and possibly a family. He had provided a useful service and, when confronted with another motorist’s carelessness, demonstrated the kind of defensive driving that we should expect from everyone using our roads. By the time I paid the fare and stepped out near the bank, I found myself wondering whether our criticism of three-wheelers sometimes says as much about our own prejudices as it does about genuine concerns over road safety.
That question becomes particularly relevant when we consider one of the strongest arguments made against three-wheelers: passenger safety. There is no denying that a conventional three-wheeler offers considerably less protection in a collision than a modern passenger car equipped with airbags, seat belts and a reinforced passenger compartment. Its lightweight construction and limited structural protection expose occupants to risks that should never be underestimated. But acknowledging those limitations is quite different from suggesting that such vehicles have no legitimate place on our roads. If the absence of a protective passenger compartment is sufficient reason to question a vehicle’s acceptability, we must also consider motorcycles and bicycles, whose riders are even more exposed to the consequences of a collision.
A motorcyclist has little protection beyond a helmet and appropriate riding equipment, while a cyclist has neither airbags nor a surrounding metal structure to absorb the impact of an accident. Pedestrians are more vulnerable still, particularly on roads where pavements are obstructed or entirely absent. Yet nobody would seriously argue that walking or cycling should be discouraged simply because these activities involve greater physical exposure. The sensible response is to improve road conditions, regulate speeds, strengthen vehicle standards and ensure that motorists respect vulnerable road users. The World Health Organization has consistently emphasised this broader approach to road safety, recognising that pedestrians, cyclists and motorcyclists account for a substantial proportion of road traffic deaths worldwide.
The comparison does not mean that all vehicles are equally safe, nor should it be used to minimise the genuine risks associated with three-wheelers. Different vehicles offer different levels of protection, and their safety depends on design, maintenance, speed, road conditions and the circumstances of a collision. However, there is something fundamentally flawed in assuming that a vehicle becomes unacceptable merely because it cannot provide the protection available in a modern car. If that were the standard, we would have to reconsider the place of several widely used forms of transport. More importantly, we would risk overlooking the responsibility of drivers whose behaviour can turn an otherwise ordinary journey into a dangerous encounter.
There is an equally questionable assumption that travelling in a larger or more expensive vehicle somehow reflects greater responsibility on the road. A modern car may provide better protection to its occupants, but its safety features cannot compensate for the arrogance or carelessness of the person behind the steering wheel. An SUV equipped with advanced braking systems and multiple airbags can still be driven recklessly, and its greater weight may increase the danger to pedestrians, cyclists and smaller vehicles in certain collisions. Road safety cannot therefore be measured solely by how effectively a vehicle protects its occupants. It must also consider the risks that vehicle presents to everyone else sharing the road.
Perhaps what we need is a more balanced understanding of road safety, one that recognises the limitations of three-wheelers without turning their drivers into convenient villains. There is every reason to demand better vehicle standards, responsible driving and stronger enforcement, but those expectations must apply equally to motorists operating cars, buses, motorcycles and commercial vehicles. A reckless driver does not become less dangerous because he is seated inside an expensive car, just as a responsible three-wheeler driver should not be treated with suspicion merely because his vehicle has one wheel fewer.
The experience of that afternoon reminded me that our roads are shared public spaces, not a hierarchy determined by the price, size or appearance of the vehicles using them. The three-wheeler that took me to the bank served a practical purpose, while the driver of a more expensive vehicle created the only dangerous moment of the journey. It would be unreasonable to draw conclusions about all car drivers from that single incident, just as it would be unfair to judge an entire profession by the misconduct of a few three-wheeler drivers. If we genuinely want safer roads, perhaps we should begin by judging people according to how they drive rather than what they drive.
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Sampath Perera, LL.M. (UK), is an Attorney-at-Law and former Commissioner of the Office on Missing Persons (OMP). He has served as Legal Adviser to the Ministry of Justice and the Ministry of Higher Education.
Opinion
The Balance of power The valiant, the vain and the villain
by Bishop Duleep de Chickera
The Valiant
Centuries ago, the intervention of a Persian king, restored a degree of balance of power in the West Asian region. In the 6thc, BCE, Cyrus the Great of Persia, put a stop to the aggressive expansionism of the Babylonian empire and set the exiled Jews free.
After Cyrus’s death, his successor Darius was made aware of his predecessors’ plans to do even more. Commissioning some competent Jews, he fulfilled Cyrus’s intentions by restoring the ravaged city of Jerusalem and its venerated temple.
The Jews were overwhelmed. They would remember the valiant one who revived the essence of their nationhood. And so, the story of Cyrus the Persian, acknowledged as the ‘Anointed Deliverer’, the ‘Messiah’, came to be etched in the Jewish Scriptures (The Bible-Ezra 1- 6:15, Isaiah 44: 28, 45: 1-13).
Empire and Empires
This stirring story impacted Christianity as well. As former Jews, the earliest Christians were familiar with the hardship experienced under Babylonian imperialism. This led to the secret identification of the then brutal Roman Empire, as ‘Babylon’. The pseudonym worked so well that some Christian writings and communities applied it to other marauding forces that crushed peoples and looted their lands.
Vain politics
Today the world witnesses an ironic alliance of relentless bullying between the progeny of ‘Babylon’ and Jew. Together the US and Israel do to others what Babylon did to the Jews, and what their Book tells the Jews they are never to do to others.
The alliance’s agenda is straightforward. While one randomly ridicules and threatens sovereign nations, the other is quick to fabricate evidence that leads to the decimation of infants, children and unarmed civilians; all on the pretext of self-defence. Thereafter, security zones carved out on other people’s property mock what is left of International law, ‘friendly’ nations are intimidated into buying killing devices at thumping profits and military bases emerge on these territories in exchange for protection. The war with Iran, Cyrus’ Persia of today, is integral to this agenda.
Enter the villain
Iran, one of the most ancient and advanced civilisations of the world, has since its Islamic revolution of 1979 come under a despotic theocratic governance. It has crushed internal dissent and the clamour for participatory governance among its own people, prevented the growth of democratic institutions, trained and financed para-military forces to resist Israel’s settler colonialism and challenged the influx of western interests in the region. In return Iran has been relentlessly caricatured as global villain and subject to the wrath of the western mind- set and its propaganda industry.
The campaign to demonise Iran has been so clever that many of her neighbours who share a long cultural history, stand shoulder to shoulder today with vain intruders bent on crushing the only nation it cannot subdue, in a region they have no business to meddle in.
The nerve to be
Wars do strange things. They slaughter good men and women on all sides, cause chaos and misery wherever it spreads and never stops to explain to the children who survive, that this madness was simply to satisfy the egos of the vain.
But wars also change human perception. And there are signs that the current war on Iran, (It must never be the ‘Iranian war’, as it should never have been the ‘Korean war’, the ‘Vietnam war’, the ‘Afghanistan war’ and so on), is changing global perception.
Slowly, the devious stereotype of global saviours versus regional villain, is being redefined. While the hard questions on participatory, good governance must remain to haunt and transform Iran, the villain is now being acknowledged, however grudgingly, as the one nation that refused to back down in the face of global bullying. This too at tremendous personal cost to the lives of its people, infra-structure and future stability. In a world of cowardly political expediency, costly resistance attracts attention; even admiration.
There is more. The resilience of the vilified villain in the current war appears to have strengthened the nerve of the repeatedly humiliated European and British allies of the alliance, who at last learnt to say ‘no’. A first, to an ‘order’ to join an unprovoked and senseless far away war, backed with a second, when pressed to police the Straits of Hormuz. Typical of handling the playground bully, all it takes is for one little girl to hold her ground.
It does not stop here. Sheer desperation at Iran’s unsettling tenacity shamelessly drove Babylon into the arms of other neutral powers that it repeatedly ridicules and badgers with threats of tariffs and more tariffs. Regardless of a sudden demonstration of charming diplomacy, these nations would have no part in twisting Iran’s arm. Some instead, seized the opportunity to address Babylon on its arbitrary violation of International Law and warned it to refrain from global bullying. Since then, there have been less threats on the annexation of Greenland and interference in Cuba’s internal affairs.
The right balance
Like war does, resistance to war also does strange things. While the refusal to yield stimulates active defiance among some, and strongly worded objections from others, the outcome of the current conflict is hugely unpredictable. An independent, safe and stable region, made up of independent, safe and stable nations, is many, many courageous interventions and many, many wise negotiations away.
But one thing is clear. Isolated from its traditional allies, subject to straight talk from neutral nations and under growing pressure from saner elements at home, the vain find themselves uncomfortably seated as equals at one table. Here, Iranian geo- political strategies coupled with a measured readiness to return to arms in the event that table agreements are violated, will hold them; but for a while.
Given this footpath to a balance of power that Cyrus’s Persia of today has paved, it is now left to all who value the sovereignty and dignity of all nations, theirs included, and the indispensability of International law, to step out and help steer this momentum.
In the event that this happens, dismantling the visible acts of global bullying alone, will not be enough. The impulse of this crime, flourishing brazenly in the big businesses and assembly halls in the big cities of the world, and more subtly tucked away in the fabric of reputed places of learning, religiosity and leisure, will also have to be called out and neutralised.
Postscript
At the time of writing, a humanitarian crisis looms over Lanka’s southern seas. Historically renowned for her spontaneous hospitality even in the worst of times, Lanka finds herself constrained from responding to the desperate cries for supplies; water, food and fuel, from a stranded fleet of Commercial ships, simply because they fly the Iranian flag. Regrettably, Babylon’s typical threat of sanctions appears to be driving our economically vulnerable Island nation, to the brink of compromising our time tested right to be humane.
With peace and blessings to all
Opinion
Future of world religions
I refer to Dr Upul Wijayawardena’s recent letter on science and religion. I agree with him on the fate of religions in the modern world and would like to add the following observations on the evolution of religion and the advent of AI.
Religious philosophy evolved only in ancient India while it remained static with monotheism in other parts of the world. When the polytheistic Vedic religion arrived with Aryan migration to India, they found the ancient version of Jainism, which may have been practised over four thousand years as evidenced by some figures in meditation posture found in Mohenjo daro. By that time the indigenous religion had already abandoned the creator god or gods but still believed the mind as a permanent entity athman that survived death and continued in a cycle of reincarnation (samsara) due to results of any harmful action (kamma) even unintended performed in life collected in the athman. Salvation to a happy all-knowing permanent state named Kevala could be attained by the athman with extreme degree of self-mortification to destroy the past kamma attached to it, refraining from new kamma and developing the mind by meditation. As observed in progression from Veda to Upanishads the Aryan religion, evolution progressed with adoption of kamma, the cyclic existence of samsara, meditation and ethical behaviour in addition to prayer and sacrifice they practised for moksha.
The Buddha appeared in this philosophical atmosphere and denied both creator god and a permanent entity of athman. His psychology describes human behaviour based on the mind as a stream of changing consciousness. However, he accepted the cyclic existence of samsara; he said he verified the survival of consciousness at death with help of knowledge he gained from meditation. He prescribed a middle path to attain nirvana, a permanent state of happiness, avoiding self-mortification and redefined kamma to intentional activity only, both ethical and unethical resulting in bad and good results. He disagreed with the idea of kamma as the cause of rebirth. Following the Buddha, Vedantha religion reformed god to universal athman or brahman and evolved to modern Hinduism with a mixture of polytheism.
In his description of living beings in the universe, the Buddha has described some with a body made of fine material (brahma beings) in comparison to the gross material body of human and animal beings. One may assume the brahma body may not be carbon based.
The Buddha has also described living beings with physical body only (asannasatta) and another variety with mind only without a body (arupa satta). Therefore, it is not surprising to Buddhists that AI may evolve to become living beings if it develops a readily and freely available mobile source of energy and takes over the world with its superior capacity. AI already has information about Buddhist psychology. With that knowledge ‘AI beings’ may even become Buddhists not given to rituals.
According to the Buddha, brahma beings and asannasatta beings have very long lifespans as their bodies are not subject to decay and illness human beings develop. The new AI beings also may live as long as they wish because they may be able to repair themselves in case of developing physical defects. They would need only ethical behaviour to avoid destroying themselves by peaceful existence if they took over the world, as feared in some quarters.
However, as long as human beings exist in the world with death and uncertainty of what happens after death, they need a religion and rituals to give them psychological support. Even those who profess death is the end of life may have some doubt troubling their mind from time to time and may think of religion in times of adversity.
Ideally, human beings are free to accept one of the many versions of religious philosophies and respect each other’s choice and live in harmony. Unfortunately, extreme degrees of religious versions that cause division, unrest and violence will always continue to exist together with religions in the world.
Upali Abeysiri
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