Features
AN ENCOUNTER WITH FELIX DIAS BANDARANAIKE IN THE EARLY 70s
by Eric. J. de Silva
I had always an interest in the subject of public service training and when Mr B.H. (Buddhi) de Zoysa, the Director of the Academy of Administrative Studies (re-named later in the eighties as the Sri Lanka Institute of Development Administration – SLIDA for short), asked me whether I would like to come as his Deputy with the prospect of being able to succeed him in the event of his leaving to take up a job in the World Bank which he was fairly hopeful of getting,
I had no reason to say ‘no.’ This was at the very end of December 1971 when I was working as General Manager of the Industrial Development Board, a statutory body which came under the Ministry of Industries. Though this was a ‘cushy job’ as one would call it with the additional advantage of being able to draw a handsome allowance over and above one’s substantive salary, I felt somewhat uncomfortable working there – the reason being that its Board of Directors was full of theoreticians and was trapped in a `No Action – Talk Only’ type of syndrome, to use a popular expression, despite the valiant efforts made by its Chairman, Somapala Gunadheera who was responsible for getting me there and was no longer there by that time.

I had come to know Buddhi when he was Government Agent, Colombo and I happened to serve as his Addl. G.A. for a few months after the dissolution of Parliament in December 1964, ahead of the General Elections of March 1965 and, together with the very capable and experienced Asst. Elections Officer D.S.Ratnadurai, relieved him of much of the burden of running the elections – Colombo being the district with the largest number of electorates.
On being assured by Buddhi that he had got the necessary approval of his Minister (Mr. Felix Dias Bandaranaike, who held the portfolio of Public Administration, Home Affairs and Local Government) for the proposed move, I readily agreed. Even if Buddhi was not to get the World Bank job and I ended up as Deputy there, I felt it was well worth taking up the offer with at least a long-term prospect of succeeding him, considering the many attractions that the Academy offered for a person with my sort of interests.
Shortly thereafter, I found the Minister addressing a letter to Mr. T.B. Subasinghe, the Industries Minister, stressing the important role the Academy had to play in improving the quality of administration, and asking for my release from the IDB for the position of Deputy Director in the Academy for which I was very well suited (‘ithamath yogya’ were the words used). Mr. Subasinghe, the genial gentleman and veteran politician, called me up on receiving this letter and said that he had no option but agree to the request made by his colleague though he was sorry to let me go.
I came over to the Academy as the year 1971 ended and was appointed as its Director on March 01, 1972 on Buddhi’s departure for Washington having got his World Bank appointment. This was a position that many of my seniors would have aspired to hold, considering the reputation and the recognition the Academy had already acquired as a vital instrument for improving the overall performance and efficiency of the public service.
I found the work at the Academy to be both interesting and challenging and, to the surprise of many, had no problems with the Minister who was considered to be a hard task-master and a very difficult person to please. He went to the extent of saying openly at regular meetings of Heads of Divisions of the Ministry (the Academy was concurrently the Administrative Training Division of the Ministry) that he was satisfied with the work the Academy was doing.
He was particularly pleased when I broke new ground by running the first Management Course in Sinhala for mid-level SLAS officers. Not only did he come for the ceremonial opening of this course, he also paid me and my staff a huge compliment for having worked tirelessly to prepare the course material.
I had no problems whatever with the Secretary of the Ministry, Mr. B. (Baku) Mahadeva, whom I had known as Secretary, Ministry of Agriculture and Food during the 1960s when I worked as Deputy Commissioner in the Department of Agrarian Services, and later moved to the Ministry to take up the position of Deputy Director of Agricultural Planning.
So was it with Mr. P.H. Siriwardhana, the Additional Secretary under whose wing the Academy directly came and whom I had not known earlier at a personal level. An economist by training, who had been in the service of the Central Bank for more than half his lifetime, he was a man of few words, and did not want to tread into areas he was not too familiar with. He kept in close touch with me, quietly appreciating the work that we were doing and giving us his fullest support as and when necessary.
Things, however, changed with the departure of Mr. Mahadeva to take up an assignment in Kuala Lumpur, resulting in the elevation of Mr. Siriwardhana to take his place, and the appointment of someone from totally outside the government sector who was a close relative of the Minister to take up the position that the latter held.
The new Additional Secretary, arrived on the scene with pre-conceived ideas about what sort of training public servants needed to be given, and wanted many changes done almost overnight. These, in my view and in the view of senior officers at the Academy, were of an ad hoc nature and would have disrupted programs that had been developed over the years on the basis of comprehensive needs assessments conducted by the Academy. This naturally led to many disagreements between him and me.
He bided his time until the Minister left for England on some official business and had to extend his stay there to be with his wife cum Private Secretary who had to undergo an eye surgery (if I remember right), and asked that I be replaced immediately with a person of his choice. When the Secretary called me up and asked me what the problem I had with the Additional Secretary was, I explained to him that I had no problem with him at a personal level, but there were some issue-based differences of opinion between us.
I also reminded the Secretary that on no occasion had he found me wanting in my job during the period he was overlooking the Academy, which he acknowledged with a smile. Being a man of few words, he quickly went on to say that there was no point in my staying on in the job if the Additional Secretary wants a change, and I said I felt the same.
He then offered me the post of Government Agent, Galle which was vacant or about to fall vacant if I was willing to take it, and I indicated that I did not like to go as G.A. to my home town if I had a choice. This he fully appreciated and said that the Secretary, Ministry of Planning and Employment (Prof H.A. de S. Gunasekara) was looking for someone to fill the vacant post of Director, Regional Development in his Ministry and that he would speak to him shortly and get back to me.
Not stopping at that, he gave me the assurance that he would keep me attached to the Ministry office until a suitable position comes up in keeping with my seniority. It appeared he felt there was no reasonable ground to get me out of the Academy, but was in no position to prevent it. All this happened on a Saturday which was a half-working day at the time.
After having got home, I mulled over the options-available to me considering the suddenness of my fall from grace. I had reservations about taking up the Planning Ministry job for more than one reason. Not only had Prof Gunasekara been one of my teachers at Peradeniya, he was also one of my immediate neighbours at Wijerama Mawatha where I resided at the time, with our two families maintaining very cordial relations.
In the circumstances, I thought it was better if things were left at that. However, the prospect of being ‘attached’ to the Ministry of Public Administration for too long was not very pleasing as it would have given the impression that I had been relegated to the so-called ‘pool’ – not the most enviable prospect for a former Director of the Academy, the main function of which was providing management training to public servants at middle and senior levels.
The very next day (Sunday) I happened to meet Mr. W.T. Jayasinghe, Secretary to the Ministry of Defence and External Affairs quite by chance when I drove in to a ‘petrol shed’ near the Thunmulla Junction to get some petrol for my car. I had known him from the time he was Controller of Immigration and Emigration in the early sixties and I was an Assistant Secretary in the Defence Ministry under which his department came.
He asked me how I was doing at the Academy and went on to say “you must be enjoying your work there.” When I told him that I had just been “unceremoniously kicked out” from there, and that I will be in the so-called ‘pool’ from the very next day he raised his eyebrows in disbelief. I briefly told him about the events that preceded my ‘fall from grace’ and said that there was a possibility of my being sent as Director, Regional Development in the Planning Ministry which, like his Ministry, came directly under the Prime Minister at the time.
“Why not come back to your old Ministry?” he asked, and followed it by saying “If you are agreeable, the post of Senior Assistant Secretary (Defence) is there for you subject, of course, to the Prime Minister’s approval. (I had been Assistant Secretary – Administration and thereafter Assistant Secretary – Defence in that Ministry in the early sixties.) In fact, we have kept the position vacant for some time since Ridgeway Tillekeratne left, until a suitable person is found. I will ask the Prime Minister and get back to you before Hillary (Prof H.A.de S.Gunasekara) gets hold of you.”
I was, no doubt, delighted to accept the offer and rushed back home to break the news to my wife. Of course, the final decision was in the hands of the Prime Minister who, I thought, may not remember me working in her Ministry in the early sixties.
Later in the evening that same day, Mr. Jayasinghe phoned me at home to say that the Prime Minister had given her approval, and asked me to report to his office on the following morning saying that he would speak to his counterpart at the Public Administration Ministry and get the formalities attended to.
Thus within a single working-day after being “dismissed summarily” from the Academy, I had arrived in the Ministry of Defence and External Affairs much to the surprise of those whom I had left behind at the Academy, as well as those who had been following developments at the Public Administration Ministry itself.
When Minister Felix returned to the island a few weeks later, he would have found that the Director of the Academy had left his job while he was away and I wondered what reasons would have been given for his sudden departure. Obviously, it had to be something seriously wrong that could not wait till the Minister got back to the island.
Be that as it may, I felt it was MY duty to meet him and formally bid him farewell while thanking him for having given me the opportunity of heading that important institution as well as the courtesy and support he had always extended to me in my work. It was not possible, however, to get a suitable time to meet him as he was extremely busy attending to matters that had awaited his return not only in the Ministry of Public Administration but also in the Ministry of Justice which too had been entrusted to him in January 1972, following the resignation of Senator J.M. Jayamanne.
In the meantime, the Prime Minister convened a meeting at the Parliament building to discuss some important issue relating to Defence that had legal implications, regarding which the presence of the Justice Minister and his officials was also required. I went with the Defence Secretary to the meeting and sat next to him at the conference table.
The Justice Minister came to the meeting a few minutes late as he had been participating in a debate which was taking place in Parliament and, soon after taking his seat, threw a sharp glance at me the moment he saw me across the table which made me feel like an accused in the dock.
As soon as the meeting was over and the Prime Minister left, Felix made one big dash towards the Chamber where the debate was still going on. I virtually ran behind him and having caught up with him, asked whether I could have a word with him. He threw another sharp glance at me and said somewhat brusquely: “So you got a more powerful job and left, eh?” I said “No sir, that is not what happened” quite emphatically, and followed it up by saying “I would never have left in your absence if I had a choice. I have been waiting, ever since you came back to meet you and explain to you what actually happened”.
With a look of surprise on his face he said “Well, come and see me sometime at my office in Hulftsdorp”, and dashed off towards the chamber. It became clear to me that the Minister had been misinformed about what had taken place, and I did not find it difficult to understand why he wanted me to meet him at the Justice Ministry rather than at the Public Administration Ministry where the offending parties were more likely to learn about my meeting with the Minister.
The very next day, I phoned his office at the Justice Ministry in Hulftsdorp and got the earliest possible appointment to meet him. When I went there, I found that the Minister had gone to attend a ceremonial sitting of the Supreme Court which is usually held when a Supreme Court judge retires or a new appointee takes office, and it took quite some time for him to get back.
He saw me in the waiting area right outside his office room and asked me to come in, apologizing for having kept me waiting. Once we sat down, he asked me as to what really happened. He listened to what I said very intently and said without the slightest hesitation “Oh I see, but what the people over there told me was that you got a more powerful job and left the Academy.”
He then paused for a moment and said: “Anyway you have got a good job and I wish you well” – words that resonate in my ears to this day. I left his office as a much relieved man, wondering what the result would have been if I had not sought a meeting with him to put the record straight.!
During my stay at the Defence Ministry, I met him a couple of times along with the Secretary in his capacity as Minister of Justice regarding matters connected with the Emergency Regulations operative at the time, but he never looked at me the way he did that evening at the meeting presided over by the Prime Minister at the Parliament building or when I ran behind him to have a few words with him after the meeting ended.
(Excerpted from A Peep into the Past, the memoirs of Eric. J. de Silva)
Features
Quandary of Dengue: Some roving perspectives
Sri Lanka is currently well and truly trapped in the strangling grip of a devastating and severely enhanced dengue outbreak. The numbers alone are staggering; over 44,000 cases have been recorded across the island so far this year, with the highest concentration systematically suffocating the Western, Southern, and Central provinces. Hospitals and healthcare providers are under extreme pressure, but the cold metrics of morbidity do not capture the true implications and dismay of this current wave. What has profoundly shaken the public consciousness and even sent a shudder through the medical community is a grim shift in the implications for the populace.
Dengue has always been quite a threat, looming over our Motherland from time to time. Yet for all that, historically, child deaths due to the virus were relatively rare in Sri Lanka, thanks to scrupulously adhering to robust clinical guidelines, as well as exceptional paediatric monitoring and management. This year, that safety net seems to be straining quite a bit at the edges and among the reported fatalities are a tragic number of children. The virus is moving faster, hitting harder, and exposing a terrifying reality, even stressing that our existing defence mechanisms are perhaps no longer totally sufficient to deal with the problem.
In response, public health authorities have deployed their traditional arsenal. Teams are busy with intensive surveillance, conducting house-to-house inspections, enforcing strict penalties for standing and stagnant water, and sending fogging machinery through the streets to blanket neighbourhoods in chemical mists. Yet, as case counts climb by nearly 50% week over week, an uncomfortable question must be asked: Are these traditional measures sufficient, or are they bordering on an exercise in futility?
The Illusion of the Fog: Why Our Current Strategy May Be Failing?
To understand why Sri Lanka might be in a tight corner, one must look closely at the enemy. Dengue is transmitted primarily by the Aedes aegypti mosquito, a highly adapted, urbanised insect. While Aedes aegypti is widely considered the primary culprit, Aedes albopictus (commonly known as the Asian tiger mosquito) plays a massive, highly dangerous role in Sri Lanka’s dengue transmission as well. In fact, the interplay between these two species is one of the biggest reasons why controlling dengue on the island is so incredibly difficult. These two vectors behave differently, breed in different places, and require distinct strategies to combat their well-recognised roles in the propagation of the disease that is dengue. Understanding how these two mosquito species split the territory could explain why a single controlling method might not always work across the board.
Aedes aegypti mosquitoes are strictly urban and indoor creatures. They live alongside humans inside houses, apartments, and in heavily built-up commercial areas. They rest on dark clothes in closets, under furniture, and behind curtains. They breed in artificial containers, clear, stagnant water in flower vases, plastic cups, concrete sumps, and overhead tanks. They prefer human blood almost exclusively and bite multiple people to get one full meal, thereby spreading the dengue virus rapidly within even a single household.
In contrast, Aedes albopictus is semi-urban and rural, thrives in vegetations, gardens, rubber plantations, and peri-urban areas where green spaces meet houses. The creature rests in shaded bushes, high grass, and low canopy foliage, as well as holes in trees, leaf axils, coconut shells, discarded tyres and trash. The biting behaviour of these mosquitoes is opportunistic. They bite humans but also feed on birds and domestic mammals, indicating that they can survive easily even when human density is low.
The traditional responses we rely on, most notably thermal fogging, are largely cosmetic public relations exercises rather than a totally effective vector control mechanism. Such fogging misses indoor resting sites, drives resistance, and stagnant water elimination fails against cryptic, microscopic breeding sites.
Fogging utilises “adulticides“, chemical sprays meant to kill flying mosquitoes. However, Aedes aegypti is a domestic creature; it rests indoors, hidden in the dark recesses of closets, under beds, and behind curtains. A fogging process achieves very little penetration into these indoor sanctuaries. Furthermore, over-reliance on these pyrethroid-based chemical sprays has accelerated insecticide resistance, effectively rendering the chemicals useless over time.
Similarly, while the National Dengue Control Unit (NDCU), to their eternal credit, aggressively pursues the elimination of visible standing water, the sheer adaptability of the mosquito outpaces manual human labour in trying to eliminate the breeding places of the vectors. Aedes eggs can remain dormant in dry containers for months, hatching the moment a drop of water touches them. In dense, urbanised areas like Colombo and Gampaha, microscopic breeding sites, from the rim of a discarded plastic bottle cap to the base of an indoor potted plant, are impossible to completely police.
If we continue to rely solely on manual cleaning and chemical fogging, we are fighting a twenty-first-century climate-driven crisis with mid-twentieth-century tools. We must look beyond our borders to see how global science is shifting the paradigm of mosquito control.
The Biological Frontier: Insects fighting Mosquitoes
When searching for international alternatives, many look towards the United States, where vector control districts manage complex mosquito populations across diverse ecosystems. A common point of curiosity is the historical use of “mosquito-eating insects.”
In the US, biological control has long featured predatory species. While some point to insects like dragonfly nymphs or giant non-biting mosquito larvae (Toxorhynchites, which actively prey on other mosquito larvae), the most widely used traditional biological agent in American municipal water systems is actually the Gambusia affinis, commonly known as the “mosquitofish.” A single one of these surface-feeding fish can devour hundreds of mosquito larvae a day.
However, American vector management has largely evolved past simply dumping predatory fish into ponds. The true modern frontier in global mosquito control relies on advanced biological and genetic interventions that turn the mosquitoes against themselves.
1. The Wolbachia Revolution
Perhaps the most successful international intervention against dengue is the introduction of Wolbachia-infected mosquitoes. Wolbachia is a naturally occurring bacterium found in up to sixty per cent of all insect species, but crucially, not naturally present in Aedes aegypti.
When scientists introduce Wolbachia into Aedes mosquitoes in a laboratory and release them into the wild, two extraordinary things happen: –
· Viral Suppression: The bacterium competes with viruses like dengue, Zika, and chikungunya inside the mosquito’s body, making it incredibly difficult for the virus to replicate. If the virus cannot replicate, the mosquito cannot transmit it to a human.
· Population Replacement:
Through a mechanism called cytoplasmic incompatibility, when a Wolbachia-carrying male mates with a wild female that does not carry the bacteria, her eggs do not hatch. If a Wolbachia female mates with a wild male, her offspring will carry the bacteria. Over time, the local mosquito population is entirely replaced by harmless, non-transmission-capable mosquitoes.
In comprehensive global trials, such as those conducted by the World Mosquito Programme in Yogyakarta, Indonesia, the introduction of Wolbachia mosquitoes led to a staggering 77% reduction in dengue incidence and an 86% reduction in dengue-related hospitalisations.
2. Sterile Insect Technique (SIT) and Genetic Modifications
Other countries, including parts of the US (such as the Florida Keys) and Brazil, have turned to genetic engineering. Using the Sterile Insect Technique (SIT) or advanced genetic variants (like those developed by Oxitec), millions of bio-engineered male mosquitoes are released into the wild. Because male mosquitoes do not bite humans, and they feed exclusively on nectar, thereby posing zero risk to the public. These males mate with wild females, but pass on a self-limiting gene that causes the female offspring to die in the larval stage before they can ever mature, bite, or transmit disease. This results in a drastic collapse of the localised vector population without the use of even a single drop of toxic chemical pesticide.
Moving beyond the Status Quo: A Blueprint for Sri Lanka
The current dilemma in Sri Lanka is a classical gridlock: we are deploying immense physical effort and economic capital into vector control measures that yield diminishing returns, while our clinical wards fill with critically ill patients. If we are to break this cycle, our public health policy must undergo a rapid structural evolution
We cannot instantly replicate the multimillion-dollar genetic laboratories of the West, but we can modernise our strategy immediately by adopting a highly targeted, multi-tiered approach.
Comprehensive Vector Management Strategy
The following are some thoughts that need to be carefully evaluated in a venture towards getting things under control.
· Shift from Adulticides to Target Microbial Larvicides Immediate Phase
Cease the reliance on sweeping chemical thermal fogging. Instead, deploy specialised microbial larvicides such as Bacillus thuringiensis israelensis (Bti). Bti is a naturally occurring soil bacterium that, when ingested by mosquito larvae, destroys their digestive tracts. It is completely non-toxic to humans, pets, and other aquatic life, and can be distributed via localised backpack sprayers or drones into inaccessible urban sumps.
· Scale Up Localised Wolbachia Trials Intermediate Phase
Sri Lanka has previously initiated small-scale, localised pilot releases of Wolbachia mosquitoes in select urban pockets. Given the severity of the 2026 outbreak, these programmes must be aggressively scaled up into an industrial-level national initiative. Public-private partnerships must be leveraged to establish sustainable, high-capacity mosquito-rearing facilities locally.
· Implement Digital Ovitrap Surveillance Continuous Integration
Replace manual, retroactive searching with predictive digital mapping. Deploy networks of smart “ovitraps” (oviposition traps) across high-burden provinces. These traps monitor egg-laying rates in real-time, allowing automated data systems to predict a spike in the adult mosquito population weeks before an actual clinical outbreak occurs, enabling preventative targeting.
The Cost of Inaction
Maintaining our current trajectory is not a neutral choice; it is an endorsement of escalating mortality. The 2026 outbreak has proven that the ecological dynamics of dengue have changed, fuelled by changing weather patterns and urban density. Our public health response must change with it.
The heart-breaking loss of young lives in this current surge must serve as a stark wake-up call. We must look at the international landscape, embrace the biological innovations that have saved lives across the globe, and transition from a policy of panic-driven reaction to one of scientific eradication. It is no longer just a matter of cleaning our drains; it is a matter of upgrading our science.
Why Aedes albopictus Makes the Sri Lankan Crisis Harder
In Sri Lanka, the geographic landscape transitions quickly from dense concrete cities to lush, tropical vegetation. This creates the perfect environment for both species to thrive simultaneously.
· The Surveillance Blindspot: When health authorities focus heavily on checking indoor water storage and concrete drains in cities, they can completely miss the massive Aedes albopictus populations breeding in the surrounding vegetation, suburban gardens, and rural homesteads of the Southern and Central provinces.
· The Failure of Indoor Fogging:
While indoor residual spraying or targeted indoor fogging might hit Aedes aegypti, it has virtually no effect on Aedes albopictus, which spends its life cycle outdoors in the bushes.
· Climate Resilience:
Aedes albopictus eggs are remarkably tolerant of colder temperatures and varied environments. This allows the vector to push higher into the mountainous terrains of the Central Province, bringing dengue to areas that historically saw very few cases.
To truly bring down the case numbers in a severely enhanced outbreak, public health interventions must be dual-targeted: addressing the indoor, urban threat of Aedes aegypti while simultaneously tackling the outdoor, ecological stronghold of Aedes albopictus. We cannot sit back on our laurels of the past. We need to move forward resolutely.
Features
ANURADHAPURA ANTHEM c.1893
R. W. Ievers, who wrote this poem, was the Government Agent of the North Central Province during 1884, 1886, and 1890. He is the author of the Manual of the North Central Province (1899) and a half dozen published reports on the life and practices in the Province. Before his death, he shared it with his good friend H.C.P. Bell, the Archaeological Commissioner of Ceylon at the time. In 1917, Bell had it published in the Times of Ceylon – Christmas Number. Since then, it remained unknown for 109 years, until Ievers’s great-grandson, Turtle Bunbury, historian and author of Living in Sri Lanka (2006) with James Fennell, tipped me off about its source – H.C.P. Bell: Archaeologist of Ceylon and the Maldives (1993), written by Bell’s granddaughters Bethia N. Bell and Heather M. Bell.
THE ANTHEM
Anuradhapura! City grand and vast,
Lanka’s famous Capital, in ages of the past:
In the Mahawansa the story has been told
Of thy palaces, and temples, and pinnacles of gold.
Hail! then hail! to the worth of a bygone day,
Hail! all hail! to the relics of kingly sway
Hail to thee, Fair City, glorious in decay,
Hail! thrice hail! Forever and for aye!
Si monumentum quaeris
– cast your gaze around
Ruined fanes and dagobas everywhere abound
Alas! for glory faded, for erstwhile beauty sped
For hierarchs and heroes, long numbered with the dead
Hail! then hail!…
Great Ruwanaveli Seya, once fairest of the fair,
The splendour of thy palmy days has melted into air;
And like Imperial Caesar now ‘dead and turned into clay’,
Thy sacred bricks ‘may stop a hole to keep the wind away.’
Note by Tillakaratne:
Since 1873, Bhikku Naranvita Sumanasara has been doing conservation work on this stupa. In 1876, Governor William Gregory, after visiting the work site, wrote that its conservation was not just a religious work but a great National Monument.
See ‘Bayagiri’ massive – ‘Fearless Mount’ forsooth – Centre once of schism rank, from ‘Great Vihara’ truth.
Patched up by prison labour, anew it flaunts on high
A ‘hideous excrescence’ athwart a tranquil sky.
Note by H. C. P. Bell
: T. N. Christie, Planting Member at the time protested in the Legislative Council against the abortive “restoration” by prison labour of the Abhayagiri Dagaba, dubbing its truncated pinnacle, half restored, a “hideous excrescence”.
Jetawanarama, Great Sena’s priestly boon
Comely shape and giddy height will crumble all too soon;
Where forest trees and chequered shade a peaceful picture lend,
From cruel axe and ruthless spade, may gracious Heaven defend.
Note by H. C. P. Bell:
Two decades after these poems were written, the surrounding area of the Jetawanarama was still covered in forest, and the Atamasthana Committee conditionally allowed a monk to clear a limited number of trees. But not a tree remained unfelled, contrary to what the monk was authorized to do.
Thuparama graceful, in outline clear and bold,
Begirt with column chaste and slim, a gem in the ring of gold
To thee pertains high honour a pious people gave – The tomb of Sanghamitta, and Prince Mahinda’s grave.
Note by
H. C. P. Bell: The ruins are pointed out, wrongly, as the tradional tombs of Arahat Mahinda and Sanghamitta Theranee.
With bricks and mortar bolstered up, behold the Sacred Bo;
To some – misguided mortals – ‘tis but a ‘bo-gas’ show.
Where humble Mirisveti a monarch’s fad recalls,
Lo! Royal Siam’s silver now builds its futile walls.
Note by H. C. P. Bell:
According to Mahawansa, Mirisavetiya was so named after King Dutugemunu’s compunction at forgetting chillies (miris) in his alms giving to monks on one occasion. The restoration work on the Mirisavetiya began under the Ceylon Government, with funds provided by the King of Siam. When the money flow began to cease, work also ceased, and bats began to frequent the holed structure.
- Ruwanveli Seya in the background. Murage in the front c. 1900 From Sacred City of Anuradhapura (1908)
- Bhayagriya (Abhayagiriya) c. 1900 From: Sacred City of Anuradhapura (1908)
- Jetawanaramaya c. 1900. From Sacred City of Anuradhapura (1908)
What need to tell of sculptures, of ‘pokunas’ galore,
Of balustrades and Yogi stones and half a hundred more,
Of Brazen Palace spacious, with gilt-roofed storeys dight –
A modern race more ‘brazen’ would desecrate each site.
For midst these sacred ruins of shrines and cloistered hall,
A reckless generation disports with little balls,
Whilst ‘Parliamentary language’ and imprecations deep
Disturb the peaceful solitude where saintly Rahats sleep.
Note by H. C. P. Bell:
After European residents, old city Anuradhapura in the late 19th century, the area still being cleared between Ruwanveli Seya and Thuparama, was used a ‘golf links’. Ievers did not like the area used as a playground:
Iconoclasts and vandals have had their little day;
No more shall ancient pillars to culverts find their way.
No more a watchful Government such sacrilege condones –
One may not meddle with the gods, nor tamper with the stones.
Anuradhapura! Thy glory shall revive;
Yhu [sic] sons shall swarm within thee like bees about a hive.
The effort of the present for past neglect atones;
New breath of life resuscitates this vale of driest bones.
Composed by R. W. Ievers
(1850-1905)
Introduced by Lokubanda Tillakaratne
Features
Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation: Restoring Mobility, Dignity and Hope Across Sri Lanka
For thousands of Sri Lankans living with limb loss and physical disabilities, access to quality rehabilitation services remains a significant challenge. Yet, for more than three decades, our organisation has quietly transformed lives through innovation, compassion and community-based care. The Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation Guarantee Limited (MRFGL), supported by the Meththa Foundation-UK and in partnership with the Manitha Neyam Trust, the LEBARA Foundation and the Oblates of Mary Immaculate in Jaffna, emerged as one of Sri Lanka’s most effective voluntary rehabilitation service providers, restoring mobility, independence and dignity to some of the country’s most vulnerable citizens.
The Foundation’s roots stretch back to 1994, when a group of expatriate Sri Lankan professionals in the United Kingdom recognised the severe shortage of rehabilitation services available to disabled persons in Sri Lanka. Drawing upon their expertise in rehabilitation medicine and allied healthcare professions, they established the Meththa Foundation-UK with a simple but powerful vision: to provide affordable, high-quality prosthetic and rehabilitation services to those who needed them most.
What began as an effort to recycle and repurpose high-quality prosthetic components donated by the UK’s National Health Service has evolved into a comprehensive rehabilitation network serving communities across the island.
Clinical services commenced in Sri Lanka in 1995 through a mobile outreach programme that initially supported injured soldiers and later expanded to civilians affected by conflict and disability. The majority of them were victims of land mines. In 2010, the Sri Lankan arm of the organisation was formally registered as the Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation Guarantee Limited, strengthening its ability to deliver sustainable services nationwide.
Today, the Foundation operates four modern rehabilitation centres located in Mahawa, Mankulam, Balapitiya and Kilinochchi. These centres provide prosthetic and orthotic services, posture and mobility support, limb repairs, and rehabilitation assistance to patients from diverse social and economic backgrounds.
Recognising that many disabled individuals live in remote areas with limited access to healthcare, Meththa Foundation also established a mobile outreach service in 2011. Through a successful “Hub and Spoke” model, rehabilitation teams travel regularly to underserved communities, ensuring that patients are not denied care simply because of distance or financial hardship.
The scale of the Foundation’s work is impressive. During 2025 alone, the organisation recorded approximately 2,000 patient contacts, including the provision of 350 new artificial limbs, 850 limb repairs and around 800 other rehabilitation devices. For many beneficiaries, these interventions represent far more than medical treatment; they offer a pathway back to employment, education and social participation.
Innovation has become a hallmark of the Foundation’s approach. Through an active research and development programme, MRFGL has developed affordable prosthetic technologies specifically suited to Sri Lankan conditions. Among its achievements is the development of a modular below-knee artificial limb system manufactured largely from locally sourced materials. The Foundation has also designed low-cost prosthetic knee components that significantly reduce the financial burden on patients while maintaining quality and functionality. These developments are funded by generous International Grants facilitated by affluent members of the Meththa Foundation-UK. Service users are encouraged to donate whatever they can but for those who cannot, which is a majority the services are entirely free.
These innovations not only make rehabilitation more affordable but also strengthen local manufacturing capabilities and reduce dependence on imported components.
Equally important is the Foundation’s commitment for building local expertise. Recognising the shortage of trained rehabilitation professionals in Sri Lanka, Meththa Foundation
established an apprentice-based vocational training programme that recruits and trains young people as prosthetists, orthotists and rehabilitation technicians. Several locally trained staff members are now employed across the Foundation’s centres, helping to create a sustainable workforce for the future.
The organisation’s work has attracted growing recognition within the healthcare sector. Discussions have already taken place with health authorities regarding the potential use of Meththa-designed prosthetic components within Government hospitals. Such collaboration could significantly expand access to affordable rehabilitation services throughout the country.
Beyond its clinical achievements, the Foundation’s impact is measured in restored confidence and renewed independence. Surveys conducted among beneficiaries indicate that many educated amputees successfully return to productive lives after receiving rehabilitation support. However, the findings also highlight an ongoing challenge among poorer and less educated amputees, many of whom struggle to access follow-up care due to transportation difficulties and financial constraints.
To address this issue, the organisation hopes to -expand its mobile services and community outreach programmes. Additional funding would allow rehabilitation teams to reach isolated communities more frequently, ensuring that vulnerable patients continue to receive the support they need.
Operating on an annual expenditure of approximately Rs. 30 million in Sri Lanka, supplemented by overseas fundraising and donations, the Foundation remains heavily reliant on the partnership of charitable trusts such as the Manitha Neyam Trust and LEBARA Foundation and generosity of individual well-wishers. Every contribution directly supports the provision of artificial limbs, mobility devices, training programmes and outreach services for those who might otherwise be left behind.
As Sri Lanka continues to strengthen its healthcare and social welfare systems, organisations such as the Meththa Foundation demonstrate how innovation, volunteerism and dedication can create lasting social
By helping individuals regain mobility and independence, the Foundation is not merely providing artificial limbs—it is rebuilding lives and restoring hope.
For many “beneficiaries, every step they take is a testament to the life-changing work of the Meththa foundation
www.meththafoundation-sl-uk.org
Chairman’s WhatsApp contact number +94 77 788 6119
Prof S P Lamabadusurira, Chairman and Dr B Panagamuwa, ✍️
First Trustee
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