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Betel chewing a cardinal pleasure

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Bulath in Sinhala, Vettila in Tamil and Malayalan, Paan in Hindi, Plu in Thai, Sirih in Malay are local names for betel (Piper betle) the tender leaf of which is the main ingredient in a chew. The other common additions are arecanut (Areca catechu), either raw or dried, sliced, shredded or cut into pieces and chunam from burnt chalk, coral or sea shells (slaked lime) and a piece of sun dried tobacco leaf for an added ‘kick’. The tobacco is said to have been introduced to the chew, also called a quid, by the Dutch when they were in these parts of the world as traders or rulers.

According to the region and availability fennel, turmeric, cumin, melon and cucumber seed, tamarind juice, coriander, nutmeg, ginger, cardamom, cinnamon, cloves and grated copra are added as desired. Lately, particularly in India, menthol, rose water and mint essences are added. In Sri Lanka `Saravita’ with many of these spices are sold off lighted trays by men signing songs with catchy tunes during peraheras and other similar events. High class Indian hotels offer such spiced and fragrant ‘vitas’ in place of After Eight Mints.

Some authorities believe that about one tenth of the human race is in the habit of chewing betel- some from morning to night, others at frequent intervals or after their main meals and still others on occasions only. The estimate is plausible as the habit is common throughout India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Malaysia, Myanmar, Indonesia, Singapore, the Philippines, Papua New Guinea, Micronesia, Fiji, Maldives, Caroline Santa Cruz Island etc. Asian migrants have introduced the use of betel to the Middle East, some African and European countries and the USA as well.

For how long has the use of betel been known as a masticator – things people chew? A very long time indeed; well before smokes or fumitories known in the Eastern World for about ten centuries before the 1600s when Columbus introduced it to the West.

The Buddha in one of his reincarnations as a hare, according to a Jataka story, offered himself to God Sakra. The God was so moved that he painted the likeness of a hare on the moon and threw away the brush which fell on the world of Nagas or snakes. The King of the Nagas swallowed the brush (for what reason we do not know) and due to the consequent unbearable pain in his throat he died a few days later. A plant sprouted where he died and it was called giri-da-daly (throat burning leaf) now known as the betel vine.

Another origin of betel, according to others, is that it was created from the tip of a little finger of a Naga Queen. Irrespective of the origin it is said that the leaf was brought to the world of humans from the Naga’s world, thus called Nagavalli, by a snake holding the stem and leaf tip by its teeth. Others believe the snake held the leaf tip only. Whichever it was the older generation of betel chewers particularly in India and Sri Lanka, through fear of snake poison, discarded the leaf tip or both stem and tip when preparing a chew. Some removed even the prominent leaf veins close to the stem.

Just as much as betel is mentioned in the Jathaka story mention of it has been made in the Mahabaratha, Ramayana and Mahavansa as well.

Anthropologists have found traces of betel in the Spirit caves in Northwest Thailand dating back to 5500-7000 BC, which is even before systematic and organized agriculture came to be practiced. There have been similar findings in Timor in Indonesia going back to 3000 BC and in the blackened teeth of human skeleton in Palawan in the Philippines going back to 2600 BC. Even today some hardened betel chewers in Thailand, Myanmar and Indonesia with black teeth as a result of long years of chewing are proud of the discoloration as they say only animals have white teeth!

Betel chewing was prevalent in many parts of China up to about the 19th Century when the use of opium took its place. That was with the ‘kind assistance’ of the British for their ultimate benefit.

Even in the ancient Islamic civilization betel was known in Persia and some Arabic countries. But the habit died a few centuries ago as the leaf and ingredients had to be imported at great cost and it was also considered to be against Islamic teaching. However, followers of the religion in Sri Lanka, India, Pakistan, etc. are known to chew betel. In fact Sri Lanka exports considerable quantities of leaf and arecanut to Pakistan, the Maldives etc.

Betel has been a great social equalizer since ancient times – emperors and their subjects, landlords and their tenants, high officials and their subordinates all indulged in the habit without restrictions. Then and now it is not subject to taboos by any race such as various kinds of flesh and alcohol are. Even priests are allowed its use. To unmarried Brahmins it was taboo while Burmese children were encouraged to chew in the belief that they would speak their language well. However, some Sinhala elders of a few decades ago discouraged children from chewing in the belief that it would hinder their ability to pronounce English words correctly!

In India in early times betel chewing was considered one of the eight cardinal pleasures of a man or woman. Its value to enhance the quality of life was considered equal to food, sex, music, sleep, incense, flowers and perfume.

The Father of Indian Medicine, Sushruta in the first century AD said betel chewing tends to “cleanse the mouth, imparts a sweet aroma to it, enhance its beauty, cleanse and strengthen the voice, tongue, teeth, jaws and sense organs and acts as a general safeguard against disease.” An ancient writer in Sanskrit wrote that betel has twelve desirable qualities which are pungency, bitter, sweet, spicy, salty, astringent, it expels wind, kills worms, removes phlegm, eradicates odours, purifies all organs of the body and even induces passion!

A chew of betel is said to kill hunger and relieve tiredness which perhaps is the reason why some manual workers are often found chewing throughout the workday. This is certainly true of plantation workers. Robert Knox wrote that Sinhala men and women indulge in betel chewing to while away the hours of darkness before they went to sleep. He also had noted that an illicit lover indicates to the other their secret rendezvous by placing a betel leaf there. In the Caroline Islands experts were able to establish from fresh betel spit the sex of the spitter, what and when the last meal was, whether the person was walking leisurely or running and even more.

What is the modern thinking on betel chewing? Extracts from the lengthy essay ‘Betel Nut’ by the poet, scholar, script writer and critic Stephen Fowler are quoted below to give the views of a present day American.

Quote “Maybe you’re an ageing speed freak, too paranoid and out-of-touch to score the hard stuff anymore. Maybe you’re a khaki preppy looking for an alternative to espresso. Maybe you’re the hippie type optimistically attracted to a multi-cultural lift. Or maybe you just like to salivate. However, you kick it, betel is the ticket.

I was introduced to betel chewing six years ago in a bookshop in San Francisco’s Mission district. My instructor was a cynical young bohemian type prematurely returned from a visit to India.

The active principle in areas is the alkaloid arecoline. In pharmacological terms, arecoline stimulates the parasympathetic nervous system, resulting in a contraction of the pupils and an increased secretion of tears and saliva. The later is especially encouraged by areas, as is evident from this description of an early 20th century experiment in which a horse was injected with pure arecoline, “the saliva gushes forth from the animal’s mouth in a solid stream”. (Erich Hesse, Narcotics and Drug Addiction)

The acreca’s sister in crime, betel leaf, comes from a tree climbing vine (piper betle) of the pepper family. The shiny green leaf is heart shaped, and about the size of the palm of your hand. Its essential oil contains a phenol (betel phenol) similar to the aromatic eugenol found in the oil of cloves. Betel-phenol probably contributes stimulant properties of its own, but scant information is available on its pharmacology.

Like the coca-chewers of the Andes, betel users somehow discovered that the addition of lime helps to extract the vital essence of the plants into the saliva (and from there, of course, through the mucous membranes of the mouth and straight into the bloodstream). The catalytic lime is either powder (calcium oxide) or paste (calcium hydroxide). In either case, it is typically made from kiln-baked seashells.

What is it like to chew betel? Enthusiasts recognize three delightful aspects of the experience; the exhilarating lift; the mysterious flavour; and the cleansing; compelling salivation.

In the rare instances where scholarly literature mentions its subjective effects, the news about betel is uniformly good; “it imparts the repeatedly described sensation of well being, good humour, excitation and comfort. The consciousness, of course, remains unimpaired, and the chewer’s capacity for work is in no respect affected. (Hesse) It creates a feeling of energy, appeases hunger and assuages pain. (Henry Brownrigg)

Betel is not an amphetamine, after all. It is a complex of dilute plant alkaloids absorbed slowly through the mucous membranes of the mouth. The result is subtle and “natural” and offers none of that teeth-clenching, palm sweating, eye bugging over stimulation so familiar to users of stronger drugs. Betel is less jarring than espresso and it never leaves you feeling jangled.

Betel, or specifically areca, is an acquired taste; but for those who have acquired it, the flavour is darkly fascinating. It is spicy, though not hot spicy like cinnamon or ginger. It is tannic, but without sourness. It is sweet, though in no way is it sugary. It is a little reminiscent of chocolate, and a little reminiscent of dirt. Above all, the flavour of betel is exotic; and maybe it’s best left at that.

The most unusual (and visible) aspect of betel chewing is its effect on the salivary glands. You don’t just salivate, you pour; and the saliva emerges from your mouth tinted a deep brick red. It is not at all uncommon to spit four fluid ounces of ‘betel juice’ in a single session. And spit it you must; swallowing is not recommended, since it may cause an undesirable sensation of heartburn.

Perverse as it may sound, betel drooling is quite pleasurable indeed. There is an almost orgasmic satisfaction to be found in the experience of saliva-ducts open to full throttle. Delicious above all is the aftermath; when the chew is finished, your mouth is left astonishingly fresh and sweet. You feel uniquely cleansed, drained and purified.

Despite its charm for the initiated, however, this saliva rush is probably the greatest obstacle to betel’s acceptance in the West. Salivation is just too “primitive” for the sanitized First World. Travellers to India are frequently shocked by the red splotches that cover the streets and side walks; clearly this secretory excess strikes many Westerners as not just unaesthetic, but downright filthy. But how do those sidewalks really differ from our own, studded as they are with flattened grey globs of chewing gum? At least betel spit doesn’t stick to the sole of your shoe.

Then there’s the more serious accusation brought to bear by the US Food & Drug Administration; the betel contains “a poisonous or deleterious substance (arecoline) and that habitual chewing may be linked to oral carcinoma. Despite its authoritative tone, the FDA does not provide any medical data to support its allegation, and an examination of the available literature indicates that no conclusive studies have been carried out.

Some medical authorities even contradict the FDA. Dr. B.G. Burton-Bradley wrote in the Lancet that “Betel chewing is practiced daily by no less than 200 million people, the vast majority of whom do not have oral carcinoma” German pharmacologist Hesse stated that “Chronic excesses (of betel) do not cause any permanent health disorders.” Unquote Many Sri Lankan and Indian doctors will, of course, vehemently disagree with Burton- Bradley and Hesse.

Betel chewers specially the hardened ones have five essential utensils. They are the betel tray (in Sinhala thattuwa), container for chunam with an attached spatula (killote) aercanut cutter (giraya) spittoon or caspidor (padikkama) and if needed by the elderly without all their teeth a small mortar with attached pestle (bulath vangediya). In the days gone by in Sri Lanka these were all made of brass. The wealthier folk had some of these with inlaid designs in copper and sliver or gold in Myanmar and Indonesia.

In the Phipippines betel and the other ingredients were placed on intricately carved wooden trays and in some other countries in carved metal or wooden boxes. In the past when high officials or men or women of wealth had formal photographs of themselves taken they had these items close at hand on a table. Such was the importance of betle in their lives.

Of the paraphernalia used by betel chewers, Colombia University’s Prof. Samuel Eilenberg paid a special attention to arecanut cutters. He collected 187 cutters (now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York) from several South East Asian countries which Henry Brownrigg describes in his book “Betel Cutters”. The book could however have been more appropriately titled “Arecanut Cutters”.

In the Anuradhapura Museum an arecanut cutter dating back to 993 AD is on display.

In Sri Lanka the most popular and commercially cultivated verities of betel are kahamaneru, ratadalla and galdalu. They are planted in well-managed irrigated beds under light shades and trained to climb up wooden stakes of about five feet in height for easy harvesting. A single vine yields about ten leaves every two weeks, six months after planting. However, village home gardens produce appreciable quantities of leaf for domestic consumption from vines, which climb up a variety of trees in the garden.

The leaves of some of these are somewhat coarse when compared to the cultivated varieties.

The economic importance of betel and arecanut to Sri Lanka is significant. In the first half of 1999 our export income from it was over Rs. 64 million and the Gross Domestic Product value of betel and arecanut in 1999 was 1% of the total rubber and tobacco in comparison were 1.6% and 0.2% respectively.

Arecanuts are generally not cultivated on a commercial scale and nuts come mainly from trees of self-sown seeds in practically every village garden in most parts of the country except those in the high elevations or very dry areas. The value of dried arecanut from exports in the first six months of 1999 amounted to over Rs. 330 million.

In 1999 the average price of 1000 betel leaves (medium) was Rs. 475.55 while 100 raw arecanuts sold for Rs. 99.65 (Source Dept. of Census & Statistics).

In Sri Lanka and many of the countries in which betel chewing is common betel it is intricately woven into their cultures. From the young man who seeks a woman’s hand in marriage until after death itself betel plays a significant role. In India in the days gone by parents of young men visit the homes of girls whom they seek in marriage for their sons taking betel. In the course of conversation a tray of betel is offered to the visitors and if the proposal is rejected the host overturns the tray as if by accident! Also if a visitor is unwelcome the offer of betel is unduly delayed and when it does appear it indicates the visitors should take their leave. In Indonesia, in the past, a man could express his wish to divorce by giving his wife three pieces of arecanut. It was as easy as that then.

Sri Lankan Buddhists decorate a Pirith Mandape with betel leaves and offer a tray of betel to the senior priest requesting commencement of chanting. A couple at the end of the marriage ceremony drop betel leaves on the Magul Poruwa to indicate to Mother Earth of their marriage and place betel leaves on the hood of the Poruwa to inform the Dewas of the union. Along with the traditional items of food, betel is placed on the dining table on Sinhala New Year day. After the meal the elder in the family hands over a coin placed on betel to each member of the family as a token of good wishes for the New Year. In their turn the young offer betel to the elders asking forgiveness for any lapses in the past year. They also offer betel to their parents to announce their success at examinations and such other important events. Elder relatives are invited to family weddings with betel.

In the past physicians, astrologers, high officials teachers, landlords etc. were offered a sheaf of betel consisting of forty leaves by those seeking assistance and with the stem end facing the recipient. Similarly, Buddhist Priests are invited to an Alms Giving with a sheaf of betel. A member of a bereaved family asks an elder relative to assist in the funeral arrangements with betel while in the funeral house itself betel leaves are placed under-side up in the thattuwa.

Betel chewing and its virtues have been expressed in the most glowing terms in the East from the very earliest of time and Westerners like Fowler and others do not look at the practice with the abhorrence they once did. In fact they too seem to share the views of ancient medical men such as Sushruta describing the flavour of betel as exotic and imparting a feeling of well being. Hence, an occasional ‘vita’ particularly after a hearty meal can be better than the once fashionable fumitories which are now universally frowned upon.

(This article was first published in 2002)



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Features

Revolt in the Temple: Poverty as Structural Control

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The underlying issue in Anuradhapura is a struggle between a few families who, for years, have waged a quiet cold war over control of the Udamaluwa. Similar situations exist in Mihintale as well. These places, among others, are treated as treasures of Buddhism but, in practice, function as tightly controlled economic centres. The same pattern repeats in Kandy around the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic and in Kataragama at the shrine of God Kataragama. Variations of it exist across religious spaces of Islam, Catholicism, and Hinduism too, where institutional authority becomes indistinguishable from localised power networks. What is presented as sacred order often operates as inherited control.

It is indeed devastating to see situations where parents have no alternative but to expose their children to predators in robes for survival. This has nothing to do with religion itself, but with human pathology in the context of survival. These are the questions that demand answers, not superficial responses that treat symptoms while ignoring the conditions that produce them. What is more shocking and disturbing is not the tragedy itself, but the reactions to it. Social media has overwhelmed us, not towards understanding, but towards a fragmented cognitive state with no exit route.

A friend of mine in Nairobi used to keep all his electronic devices at home and go into the forest once a month, spending days there before returning. He called it “detoxification”, but in reality it was an escape from a system that no longer allows uninterrupted thought. Daily life is now saturated with unnecessary content, and attention itself has become a commodity extracted, processed, and sold back to us. This is where we have become unable to understand what really drives certain tragedies we endlessly react to, while remaining blind to the systems that quietly manufacture them.

Multi-dimensional poverty

Poverty is structural, poverty is political, and poverty is functional; it is a tool and a manoeuvring force of power. The question is no longer whether poverty exists, but who benefits from its persistence, and who is forced to survive within it. From education to medicine to basic food supply chains, countries like Sri Lanka are not simply mismanaged; they are structurally captured by a small number of actors who remain stable regardless of who is formally in power. Small-scale enterprises and NGO circuits that circulate foreign funding to “solve structural issues” often operate as hollow administrative performances, producing reports rather than transformation.

Poverty is not merely the absence of money. It is the absence of bandwidth, absence of protection, absence of time, and absence of cognitive stability. As Sendhil Mullainathan and Eldar Shafir state, “Scarcity captures the mind. Just as the starving subjects had food on their mind, when we experience scarcity of any kind, we become absorbed by it.” This is a description of how human cognition is structurally reorganized under constraint. Scarcity does not sit outside the person; it occupies them.

They also state, “Scarcity leads us to borrow and pushes us deeper into scarcity.” That is the mechanism that must be confronted without euphemism. Poverty is not only deprivation; it is a self-reinforcing trap in which survival decisions generate the next layer of crisis. Once a society crosses a certain threshold of scarcity, it stops producing long-term reasoning as a default condition. It produces short-term survival logic, often mistaken by outsiders for irrationality.

It is precisely here that public discourse becomes intellectually dishonest. Everything is translated into moral language because moral language is easier than structural analysis. But morality without structure becomes theatre. It produces outrage, not understanding, and repetition, not reform.

It is indeed brutal when an individual wearing religious insignia—whether robe, symbol, or institutional identity—is accused of acts that fundamentally contradict the moral authority attached to that position. It is equally brutal when institutions that depend entirely on trust begin to function as shields rather than safeguards. But the deeper question is not shock. The deeper question is what kind of social condition produces families who see placement within such institutions not only as devotion, but as a survival strategy under constraint.

Ethical decision-making

That is where the argument collapses into its most uncomfortable form. Poverty does not produce ethical decision-making environments. It produces constrained optimization under pressure. When food insecurity, debt, and social instability converge, institutional spaces that appear stable become transactional destinations for survival rather than moral choices. To interpret this as purely cultural failure is to deliberately ignore the structural compression of options.

Mullainathan and Shafir describe this clearly: “Instead of saying that scarcity ‘focuses,’ we could just as easily say that scarcity causes us to tunnel: to focus single-mindedly on managing the scarcity at hand.” That tunnelling effect is not abstract. It is visible wherever long-term planning collapses under immediate pressure. Systems then misread this as irresponsibility, when it is in fact cognitive overload produced by structure.

What is rarely acknowledged is how deeply this extends into governance itself. Institutions increasingly operate as if they are managing rational, unconstrained individuals. In reality, they are interacting with populations whose cognitive bandwidth is already structurally taxed. The result is policy failure interpreted as public non-compliance, enforcement interpreted as moral correction, and reform interpreted as communication failure rather than design failure.

Social media has intensified this distortion. It does not merely spread information; it destroys sequencing. Structural problems require temporal depth. Social media removes that depth and replaces it with instantaneous judgment. Every event becomes a surface object, detached from causality. The outcome is a society permanently reacting and never diagnosing.

Poverty, in this environment, becomes invisible in its real form. It is not seen as a continuous structural condition but as episodic failure. A scandal appears, is consumed, and disappears. Another replaces it. Nothing accumulates into understanding because attention itself is exhausted before synthesis can occur.

Modern Condition

The modern condition reflects a reversal of earlier social organization, where human relationships are embedded within abstract systems of finance, law, and administration that often fail to recognize the lived constraints of those they govern. In this disembedded state, institutions increasingly misinterpret human behaviour as their capacity for structural understanding weakens. At the same time, attempts to resolve systemic failures through expanding administrative complexity produce diminishing returns: more regulation, oversight, and reporting generate less coherence. Over time, institutions shift from functional effectiveness to symbolic performance, maintaining the appearance of control rather than achieving it.

This is why public outrage repeatedly fails to translate into structural change. Outrage is not a tool of reconstruction. It is a signal of system fatigue. It circulates, intensifies, and dissipates without altering the underlying architecture. Meanwhile, the conditions that produce repetition remain intact.

The most persistent illusion is that these are separate problems: poverty here, institutional misuse there, media distortion elsewhere. They are not separate. They are expressions of a single condition in which scarcity, complexity, symbolic authority, and fragmented enforcement interact without coordination. The system does not fail in one place; it fails in the gaps between these layers.

Symbolic systems

What makes this condition more severe is that symbolic systems continue to operate at full strength even when structural systems degrade. Religious identity remains powerful. Political rhetoric remains strong. Cultural symbolism remains intact. But enforcement capacity, institutional coherence, and social trust degrade beneath them. That gap is where instability grows. Until that gap is addressed at the level of structure rather than sentiment, repetition remains inevitable. New scandals will emerge, new interpretations will circulate, and new cycles of outrage will follow. Nothing resolves because nothing is being reconstructed beneath the surface of reaction.

This is no longer repairable through adjustment or rhetoric. It is a form of decay that persists until it exhausts itself, because the mechanisms meant to correct it are now part of the same failure. It continues until rupture, not reform. At that point, instability ceases to be episodic and becomes structural. Pressure will accumulate into breakdown, and what follows will not be managed transition but forced reversal. The responsibility lies with those who govern these institutions to prevent that trajectory, not through language, but through change. The drama is ending; farce is over; what we are witnessing is tragedy unfolding with unprecedented consequences.

by Nilantha Ilangamuwa

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Are threats to Buddha Sasana external or from within?

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As Sri Lanka celebrates the birth, Enlightenment and the Parinibbana of the Buddha, almost a month after the rest of the Buddhist-world did so, there is widespread discussion about threats to Buddha Sasana provoked by some recent incidents. Regarding the views expressed about postponing Vesak celebrations in my article ‘May Day and postponement Vesak 2026’ (The Island, 25 May), my very good friend Dr Upali Abeysiri has sent me the following comments: “The Mahanayakas have a good reason to postpone Vesak. The dawning of the full moon has to be on the same constellation (nekatha) as when the Buddha was born and attained enlightenment. Although Adhi Poya is reckoned as the second full moon arising in the same calendar month, this is supposed to be an odd exception.” Though it would have been ideal if a consensus could have been reached prior to the split of celebrations, perhaps, it does not matter very much as celebrations occur on a symbolic rather than an actual date, there being no historical or archaeological evidence confirming exact dates.

Whilst there are no direct threats to Buddha Dhamma, as the expanding horizons of science continue to confirm the fundamentals of Buddha Dhamma, there is no doubt whatsoever that there are threats to Buddha Sasana. However, these threats become important as the Buddha Sasana performs the pivotal role in protecting and propagating the Dhamma and, hence, become an indirect threat to Dhamma itself. Therefore, it should be the concern of all Buddhists and it is in this spirit I am making some comments which some may interpret as disrespectful to the Maha Sangha. I can reassure that my intentions are entirely directed towards the preservation of the Buddha Dhamma and Sasana. Though the Buddha proclaimed that the Sasana consists of Bhikkhu, Bhikkhuni, Upasaka and Upasika, for all practical purposes Sasana had been led by Bhikkhus, often at the expense of others.

There is hardly any doubt that there are external forces at play in Sri Lanka and even some Buddhists seem to object to Sri Lanka being called a Buddhist country. Interestingly, no one seems to object to countries like the UK and the USA being called Christian counties. I

There is no registration or baptism in Buddhism and there are no rewards for Buddhists for conversions. As I pointed out in a previous article, ‘How does the Buddha differ’ (The Island, 1 May) unlike most other religions, Buddhism is not a ‘high-demand’ religion, nor ‘law-based’ religion and is not exclusivist. Perhaps, it is this liberalism, pacifism and gentleness, which are the real strengths, that are being exploited as weaknesses by others.

There will always be external threats and the Buddha too faced many during his lifetime. Before addressing those, is it not more important to address the threats within? One of the most important problems seems to be the breakdown of discipline. Bhikkhus are bound by Vinaya rules, laid down by the Buddha and some recent incidents highlight total deviations. Though there were many previous incidents like unsubstantiated claims of Arahanthood, Bhikkhus attacking each other on YouTube and Bhikkhus conducting YouTube channels, not for the propagation of the Dhamma but for the accumulation of rupees, attention was focused after the detection of 22 young monks carrying narcotic drugs.

Though many commentators were quick to condemn the Sangha on this account, we need to go deeper. Narcotic menace has become a huge problem in Sri Lanka and it looks as if the drug lords would resort to anything to achieve their objectives. Though it looks as if some gullible young monks had been duped by drug lords, we need to question why it was possible. Is it due to the lack of supervision of these novices by their seniors that allowed them to accept a request in a WhatsApp group? Should there be checks and balances on foreign travel by Bhikkhus?

What shocked Buddhists was what followed next; the arrest of the Nayaka of Atamasthana for allegedly having sex with a minor. Anuradhapura was our first capital and Sri Maha Bodhi is the longest surviving authenticated tree in the world. Ruwanweliseya and Jetawanaramaya were among the ten tallest man-made structures in the ancient world, Jetawanaramaya still holding the Guiness record for the largest stupa in the world. Cyberspace is full of theories. Whilst some have condemned the Nayaka Thero even before the conclusion of inquiries whilst others claim that this was a coup by another Nayaka Thera in an attempt of succession.

I was intrigued, reading in a Sri Lankan newspaper about the 80th birthday celebrations of a Nayaka priest, who was convicted in London in 2012 of historical child sex abuse and sentenced to seven years in prison. I remember the case very well as he was the head of the Vihara, we had our first contact on relocating to the UK. I also remember his devotees, who believed that he was wrongly accused, collecting over £50,000 for an appeal. In spite of being represented by one of the top Barristers in the UK, the conviction was upheld but the jail-term was reduced by a year. His name is still on the sex-offenders register in the UK and he is permanently prevented from association with children. One can argue that as he has served the sentence and not reoffended, this should not be held against him but what baffled me is that he is still being referred to as the Chief Sangha Nayaka. Should a person on the sex-offenders register be the Chief Sangha Nayaka?

It is high time we put our own house in order before fighting the external enemies. It is reported that the former president CBK has written to the Mahanayakas requesting urgent reform and we should be obliged to her for taking the lead.

There are many aspects that need urgent reform, the first being removal of caste barriers practiced by some Nikayas, which is the greatest insult to the Buddha who promoted equality. The second is the active encouragement of Bhikkhuni Sasana which has not happened in spite of the landmark ruling by the supreme court. The third is the establishment of proper disciplinary processes under a single Adhikarana Sangha Nayaka with powers and support than allowing the government to take over the control of even non-criminal Vinaya matters.

There are many other issues that need settlement like the controversy of the land of Buddha’s birth which seems to linger on. An expert committee should hear all evidence and settle this issue once and for all.

As I have pointed out on many occasions in these columns, it is high time a Dhamma Sangayana was held, as the last one was 70 years ago. Ideally, it should be different with active participation of lay experts as well. It is the duty of us Buddhists to ensure that the words of wisdom of the Buddha continue to enlighten generations to come.

By Dr Upul Wijayawardhana

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Vijaya Kumar: Academic, Activist & Genial Fellow-Traveller

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Professor Vijaya Kumar

The University of Ceylon, Peradeniya, was in our time, a less-crowded residential university, where everybody knew everybody else or at least knew of everybody else.

I knew of Emeritus Professor Vijaya Kumar of the Department of Chemistry at Peradeniya, or Kumar, as we referred to him fondly, before I got to know him. His dear wife Savitri, also a member of the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry, was nicknamed Kumee, by some of their students (of which vintage is unknown to me) and the duo were thereafter referred to affectionately as Kumar and Kumee.

The Faculty of Science became a regular haunt of mine as I would go there in the company of my batchmates to attend lectures on Basic Mathematics given by Professor Maheswaran, as it was a requirement for our General Arts Qualifying Examinations. I would also go there to listen to some excellent talks under a programme that was held in the auditorium of the Science Faculty referred to as “Popular Science Gossip”. The “gossip” at these talks were not confined solely to science but were broad enough to include Literature, History and other branches of knowledge as well. I would often spot Kumar in the audience at these talks or bump into him in the corridors of the Science Faculty. But I got to know him personally only after he became the Warden of Arunachalam, my hall of residence, during my undergraduate years initially, and later, as a member of the academic staff of the Department of English.

Our Science Faculty undergraduate contemporaries, especially those at Arunachalam Hall and its immediate neighbour, Jayatilaka Hall, both within a stone’s throw away from the Science Faculty, shared many an anecdote about Kumar and their other lecturers. One of these anecdotes, had to do with a spectacular (motor car) driving feat of Kumar’s. Legend has it that he drove from his university bungalow-home to the Faculty of Science deploying only the reverse gear of his car! Kumar, on hearing of this, had told certain of his student friends, including some who became his colleagues later on, that this story is one of the biggest yarns he had heard in his life!

Some of his one-time younger colleagues, now in retirement like Kumar, tell me that Kumar exuded warmth and friendliness in all of his professional and administrative interactions with others in the wider university community. But there was no warmth or mercy for those who indulged in the unsavoury pastime of student ‘ragging’. He was a very strong proponent of the need to ensure to all freshers an environment free of the menace of ‘ragging’. He remained ever-vigilant during the ‘ragging’ season. There are stories of his chasing ‘raggers’ and catching them. Professor Maheswaran, who later became an intimate friend and remains so after more than half a century, was another who was fiercely opposed to ‘ragging’. I was a personal witness to Mahes chasing a ‘ragger’ up and down the stairs of the main library to nab him. Yet another of his students has noted that Kumar’s office room in the Faculty was a total mess at all times. It had tables, piled so high with books and documents that one could not easily spot Kumar at his desk. He, however, had the knack of pulling out from amidst the clutter, any document that he needed at any given time. If anybody were to volunteer to help tidy his desk, Kumar would respond firmly with “Don’t you touch my desk!”.

Kumar, like several of his colleagues in the other faculties as well, had his own eccentricities. According to information received from reliable sources, Kumar who taught Organic Chemistry used to carry his lecture notes in his shirt or trouser pocket with ‘the entire lecture condensed in point form on a half-sheet or half of a half-sheet of paper’. The way he rummaged through his sling bag filled to the brim with stuff to find an item that he needed was another ritual that amused onlookers.

Kumar, interestingly enough is a Royal-cum-Thomian product, in that he had his primary education at S.Thomas’ Prep School, Kollupitiya and the entirety of his secondary education at Royal College, which he entered in 1953. In a note written by Kumar himself, he notes that despite having had excellent teachers at Royal, his was not a notable school career. He goes on to say that “the only achievement I could boast of was my being the joint-winner of the school General Knowledge Prize”. However, he had been active in a Scout Group outside of school (1st Port of Colombo, Sea Scouts) where he “was Queen’s Scout, Patrol leader, and later, Assistant Scout Master”.

Kumar entered the Faculty of Science of the University of Ceylon in 1961 and secured from it an honours degree in Chemistry in 1965. He joined the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry in the Faculty of Science, University of Ceylon, Peradeniya in 1965 and left the following year for Magdalen College at Oxford University, from which institution he obtained his doctorate in Chemistry. His entire teaching career was at Peradeniya, where in the period 2003-2006 he served as the Dean of the Faculty of Science, a position that his late father-in-law had held a few decades earlier.

Among the other highlights of his career are: Chairman of the Industrial Technology Institute (formerly the Ceylon Institute of Scientific and Industrial Research, CISIR); Member (representing Sri Lanka) of the Geneva-based UN Commission on Science and Technology from 1999 to 2007 and its President from 2001-2003; President of the Sri Lanka Estate Workers Union from 1989 onwards; Member of the Politburo of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party from 1988 to 2014 and currently, a member of the Executive Committee of the National People’s Power (NPP).

Vijaya and Savitri Kumar are parents of daughters Shamala and Ramya, who are following in the footsteps of their parents: with the former teaching in the Department of Agricultural Economics in the Faculty of Agriculture, University of Peradeniya and the latter, in the Department of Community Medicine at the University of Jaffna.

(I wish to thank the following who assisted me in the writing of this brief essay: Mr. Bandula Warnakulasuriya, Emeritus Professor Ratnayake Bandara, Professor Mahinda Wickramaratne, Professor Swarna Wimalasiri and Mr. Manik de Silva).

*Editor’s note: Prof. Vijaya Kumar, a member of the NPP’s National Executive Committee and is still active in politics turns 84 today. This article by Tissa Jayatilaka, former Executive Director of the United States – Sri Lanka Fulbright Commission for Mutual Academic Exchange, was written for an upcoming collection of essays on Kumar’s life by his friends.

(Colombo Telegraph)

By Tissa Jayatilaka

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