Features

Cambridge, bar exams and return to Ceylon

Published

4 years ago

2022/10/2

by Nimal Wikramanayake

I went up to Cambridge early in October 1955 full of confidence and hope, but unfortunately my hopes were dashed to the ground shortly thereafter. In my first tutorial I was required in my Legal History class to write a tutorial on clause 39 of the Magna Carta -the clause which required “that no man shall be tried except by his peers” This reference, of course, was to the Barons and to no one else. I wrote a forty-page tutorial of which I was enormously proud. The result: I received an “A” while two other students received “A+” In my next tutorial in Roman Law, the same thing happened. The same two students bested me. I was devastated.

I lost all interest in my studies. Why, you may ask. You might find my reaction strange. I desperately needed my father’s approval, which I had never received. According to my father, who had been a first-class student, one was required to come first in everything one did. Nothing else was sufficient. (Many, many years later I learned that Kerry Packer and Tony Greig, the famous English cricketer, desperately sought their fathers’ approval, which they never received. I suffered the same fate.)

The upshot of this was that I stopped going to lectures and spent the next two and a half years playing poker and partying. These poker games were a spectacle to behold; it was a game of no-limit draw poker. I will give you an example of this game. On one occasion we started playing poker on a Friday evening and continued right through the night until Saturday afternoon. At this stage I was down 200 pounds. How was I to pay this when my allowance was only 50 pounds with which, in addition, I had to pay my college bills? We decided to take a short break from the game and went to the cinema.

The film was Love in the Afternoon with Gary Cooper and Audrey Hepburn. After watching the film, we returned to the game and finished playing on Sunday morning. I was finally up two pounds.I returned to my rooms in college and fell asleep. When my girlfriend, whom I later married, woke me up in the evening, I told her that I had four aces.

Prejudice in action

It was now March 1958 and I suddenly realised that I was in serious trouble. I had intended to go down to London and sit for the English barristers’ exams (the Bar exams) when I finished up at Cambridge in order to practise later on in Ceylon as an advocate.

The Bar exams came in two parts. I had to get a Second-Class in my law degree to be exempted from part I of the Bar exams. I went and saw Michael “Mickey” Dias, the greatest Ceylonese academic who was then the editor of Clerk and Lindsell on Torts. Mickey had taken six starred first classes at Cambridge; two in classics, three in the Law Tripos and one in the LLB, and had come first in his six years of study at Cambridge. In order to get a starred first one had to obtain an aggregate mark of over 80 per cent in every subject.

Mickey had initially studied classics and after that changed to Law. He got his LLB and LLM, as he came from one of the great legal families in Ceylon. Michael’s father R F Dias was a Supreme Court judge in Ceylon. Unfortunately, racism reared its ugly head at Cambridge; Mickey could not get a post there and ended up as a lecturer at Nottingham University. However, he later obtained a lectureship at Magdalene College (pronounced “Maudlane”) Cambridge. He was a lecturer in torts for over 40 years, but he never got a professorship.

I went to see Mickey and he said, “It’s quite simple. Take your six textbooks and read each subject for half an hour in the morning, half an hour in the evening and half an hour at night” I followed his advice for two and a half months and got a Second-Class.When I returned to Ceylon in 1959, my master, Kingsley Herat, used to read textbooks like novels. He taught me how to read legal textbooks. All you had to do was pick the book up and read it.

The Bar examination

My next task was to pass the barristers’ final examination which was being held two months later in September 1958. This exam had eleven subjects, eight of which were new to me, but I decided to sit for it. I came a cropper in “Equity”, the subject in which I was to become an expert many years later. I received a Conditional Pass in Equity which meant I had to sit for this subject again at the end of November. I sat for this subject and, cocky little bastard that I was, I left for Ceylon with my Italian wife, Anna Maria, shortly afterwards. I passed and was called to the Bar in absentia in England on February 12, 1959 – 63 years ago. This meant that I was not present when the young men and women were admitted to the English Bar.

When we got to Ceylon, Anna Maria was “horrified” at the indolent life we lived. She would find toothpaste on her toothbrush in the bathroom when she awoke in the morning. Whenever I had a drink at my father’s home, the drinks trolley would be rolled out on the front verandah for me. I did not need to pour my drinks out for I would ring the bell and the servant would come and do this little job for me which I could quite easily have done for myself. Was there some racism in my own attitude towards our coloured servants, I wonder?

My wife, the white woman

Anna Maria, who is Italian, came from a little town called Asolo in the district of Veneto in the north of Italy. During our time in Ceylon, she occasionally had to endure slights and insults, which she did with considerable dignity. In Ceylon in the 1950s, racial prejudice worked against white women who had married Sinhalese and Tamil men. Before I went to England my father had told me that I should not marry a white woman as she would meet with hostility and prejudice in Ceylon. He told me that a friend of his called Rajasingham had married a French girl and brought her back to Ceylon As a young lawyer he had to live with his parents because he had no work and no money. His mother detested his wife and used to make blistering hot curries for her and treat her badly. The wife finally went back to Paris after few years. This was not an isolated case.

It also happened to a very dear friend of mine who grew up with me – the late Vernon de Silva. Vernon went off to England in the 1960s and qualified as a medical specialist – a physician. He married a delightful English girl but his mother refused to acknowledge her and Vernon could not take her back to Sri Lanka. He had to settle in Australia.Fortunately, the people in Sri Lanka are more civilised today and many Sri Lankan-born men and women have married Europeans and Australians.

I remember one occasion in 1959 when we were invited to the wedding of a friend of mine, Chandra Seneviratne. His parents were extremely wealthy, and the wedding was held in their luxurious home in Rosemead Place, Colombo 7. It was customary at Sinhalese weddings for the women to congregate together inside the houses whilst the men regaled themselves in the large expansive gardens outside. I took Anna Maria into the house so that she could mingle with the women.

The wives of several friends of mine were gathered in one of the ante rooms so I took her in and introduced her to the ladies who were present. I asked one of the ladies to look after Anna Maria. I then went out onto the spacious lawn and joined my friends. Fifteen minutes later, Anna Maria came hurrying out and joined me. She was quite distraught. I asked her what had happened; and she told me that the ladies had kept conversing in Sinhalese and had deliberately gone out of their way to snub her. That was the last time I associated with these friends.

The early days

I was called to the Bar in Ceylon on October 12, 1959. It was a glorious day – I received numerous briefs from Dad’s proctors because Dad was at the height of his powers. I thought, what a wonderful profession. But unfortunately this was not to last.

The prime minister SWRD Bandaranaike had been shot a few weeks before I was admitted to practice. Shortly afterwards, the Chief Priest of the Kelaniya Temple, Buddharakkita Thero, and several others were charged with his murder. Earlier in the year, Dad had appeared for Dr Lenora, a physician and politician, in a defamation case against Mrs Vimala Wijewardene, then Minister of Local Government and a friend of the Chief Priest. Dad was successful and Dr Lenora was awarded Rs 100,000 ($20,000), which was a princely sum in 1959. The Chief Priest was so impressed that he wanted Dad to appear for him. Dad refused, as he had not done a criminal case since the early days.

Truth and justice

When a law student goes to law school, young and enthusiastic and full of hope, all he or she is interested in is truth and justice. My readers will probably think me a nasty old cynic when I say that it is not an absolute rule that truth and justice exist in legal proceedings. Many strange and unusual events can occur in a case which have nothing to do with truth and justice. I will give you a classic example to back up my statement, although one could argue that this case is an aberration.

Shortly after I was admitted to the Ceylon Bar, I was retained as junior counsel in a seduction case. In Ceylon, in the late 1950s – if I might put it rather indelicately – the goods were returned if they were spoiled. In the villages, the sheets were required to be hung out after the wedding night, just as in villages in Italy. The action for seduction comes from Roman law and from there it was introduced into Roman-Dutch law. The action is brought for “defloration of a virgo intacta” or the deflowering of a virgin. It was introduced into Roman Law by Justinian over 1,500 years ago when virginity was seen as a precious commodity. The Dutch ruled a small portion of the country from Colombo to Galle, including the town of Colombo, and introduced Roman-Dutch law into the country. Seduction, however, has a completely different meaning today. Our client was being sued not only for seduction, but for paternity, for giving the poor woman a baby.

The client turned up at my leader’s chambers for a conference and brought the record keeper of the army with him. The record keeper brought along the attendance register of the army which disclosed that our client was 200 miles away in an army camp in Jaffna for well over a year when the alleged incident took place, and could not have been in Colombo as alleged by the woman.

Months later, the lady attended court with her little son on the day judgment was to be delivered. He was the spitting image of our client. The result, however, was a foregone conclusion as the record keeper’s evidence was accepted and the lady’s action was dismissed.When we came out of court after judgment had been delivered, my leader Neville Samarakoon turned to the client and said to him, “That’s your child.’

The client replied, “Yes, it is, you see the record keeper is my best friend. He signed me up as being present in the barracks in Jaffna when I was having intercourse with the woman in Colombo 200 miles away. And this happened on most weekends for quite some time”

I was devastated. This was dreadful! I felt shattered. There was no such thing as truth and justice. I returned home mortified. I decided to leave the legal profession. I told Anna Maria that I was leaving the Bar immediately. After a few days, however, I calmed down and decided to carry on regardless. I became a cynical old man eventually.

The lean years

When I went to the Bar, my father was chairman of one of the big industrial companies in the country, the Associated Motorways Group, and in addition, chairman of the Free Lanka Insurance Company, the second largest Ceylonese insurance company in Ceylon. He sent a directive to the various officers of these companies that under no circumstances was I to be briefed by them in court proceedings. Dad wanted me to make my name without any help from him. Further, when proctors briefed him in a case, they would ask him whether he wanted me to be briefed as his junior. He would tell them that it was up to them to decide whether I was good enough to be briefed in the matter. So I was never briefed as my father’s junior in my early years at the Ceylon Bar as I was completely inexperienced as a barrister/advocate.

At that point in time there were three Queen’s Counsel who were pushing their sons extremely hard.In addition, I had married outside not only my caste but outside my race, which was frowned on at the time. I was shattered by his attitude, which was inexplicable to me. I now realise that his behaviour conditioned me for the extremely hard times I was to endure later on in Australia.

Although my early years at the Bar in Ceylon were extremely difficult, it was having to endure the buffets of fate with equanimity later in an extremely prosperous environment that was soul-destroying.

Anna Maria, my heroine

My dear wife was extremely supportive in those early years between 1959 and 1965 as briefs were few and far between. Life was a tremendous struggle without any help from my parents. An advocate or barrister who goes to the Bar without private means or legal contacts faces a perilous existence in his early years.

In 1963, as I was struggling to exist, I applied for a job with the Legal Department of the Employers Federation. This was a large organization which acted in disputes between commercial companies and their employees. I heard nothing from the company about my job application. Several months later, I met the chief legal officer, Lyn Wirasekera, who was a friend of Dad’s and enquired from him why I had not been called for an interview. He looked at me strangely and remarked that he had sent me a telegram calling me for an interview but I had not turned up.

It transpired that Anna Maria had destroyed the telegram. When I asked her why she had done that, she said she knew I had set my heart on being an advocate of the Supreme Court, that that was my destiny and I did not need to work for the Employers Federation.

As things did not improve during the following year, I applied for employment at the Estate Employers Federation as a legal officer. This was an organization formed by the plantation companies to act for them in legal disputes they had with their employees. The same thing happened again. I received a telegram calling me for an interview for a job. My wife again destroyed the telegram without my knowledge, so thanks to my dear wife I was destined to reach the top of the Junior Bar in Ceylon by 1968.

Humour the bastards

While I was reading in 19601 would go into court with my master, Neville Samarakoon. Whenever a judge said something remotely funny and looked about for approval, my master would fall into paroxysms of laughter. I later asked him why he was laughing when there was nothing funny in what the judge had said. His reply was, “Nimal, you must always kowtow to those stupid bastards. Humour the bastards and they will think you are a great bloke.”

Many years later at the Ceylon Bar there was a judge, S S Kulatileke, who fancied himself to be a comedian. He would often declaim what he considered to be a humorous remark and then turn from side to side looking for approval. I remember on one occasion he was doing a criminal case, and when the case was for hearing he shouted, “Call the robbers!” and started laughing, looking around. I decided that here was my opportunity to test my master’s theory. I burst out into raucous laughter. I positioned myself at a point where he would turn his face and each time I would burst into paroxysms of laughter at his witticisms. As a result, Kulatileke thought I was what the Italians call simpatico. Judge Kulatileke was very fond of me and, surprisingly, I never lost a case before him. Although my advocacy may have contributed in some measure to my success, I would advise all junior barristers to “Humour the bastards!”

In 1968,1 won an interesting case before Judge Kulatileke which also reinforced my belief that it is doubtful whether truth and justice exist in law courts. This was a landlord and tenant case. It was a most unusual case, for most of the properties in Colombo came under the Rent Control Act. The tenant could only lose his or her tenancy if the premises were reasonably required for the landlord’s use and occupation, or if the tenant surrendered the premises to the landlord. The likelihood of the tenant surrendering possession of the property was not only extremely rare but well-nigh impossible. In this case, it appeared that the tenant had delivered a written notice of surrender to my client, the landlord.

I opened my case and called the client. He gave his evidence about the surrender then Mr AK Premadasa got up to cross-examine my client. Premadasa was the leader in the Landlord and Tenant Jurisdiction. He subpoenaed my client to produce all the rent receipts over a period of some 36 months. The client was only able to produce 35; one rent receipt was missing. A peculiar feature of the rent receipts was disclosed – some of them were signed by the tenant at the bottom of the page. They were on A4 foolscap paper, not in a normal receipt book. Premadasa suggested to my client that he had torn off the thirty-sixth receipt and typed in this surrender letter above the tenant’s signature.

I reminded Judge Kulatileke that Premadasa was the acknowledged leader of the Landlord and Tenant Jurisdiction and that he was noted for his guile. It was an interesting theory that he had formulated, and because he was the leader of the Tenancy Bar he expected the judge to accept this ridiculous theory of his. I asked why anyone would resort to such a subterfuge. I argued that the defendant had decided to surrender his premises and then had had a change of heart. The receipt was ample proof of his behaviour. The judge accepted my submissions and I was successful.

Some members of the general public are under the misapprehension that lawyers are liars. Most of us certainly are not. We have to put our client’s story across. Occasionally my client comes with a story which would put Baron Munchausen to shame, but I have to put it across. That is what I am paid to do, although occasionally I have some doubts about its authenticity.When we came out of court I told my client that maybe Premadasa was right. My client then admitted he had indeed torn off the receipt and typed in the surrender in place of the receipt.

So much for truth and justice.

(To be continued)
(Excerpted from A Life In The Law – A Memoir)

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Features

Matrimony in crisis: Economic volatility, youth outflow, and changing fabric of Sri Lankan families – I

Published

22 hours ago

2026/10/19

Thilina Walpola

by Prof. M. W. Amarasiri de Silva

Sri Lanka’s official crude divorce rate is among the lowest in the world, sitting at roughly 0.15 divorces per 1,000 people per year, which translates to about nine legally finalised divorces, daily, nationwide. However, legal scholars and sociologists emphasise that this figure does not reflect a lack of marital distress or separation. Instead, the low official number is primarily a result of the country’s stringent legal framework, complex judicial procedures, and deep-seated socio-cultural factors that prevent couples from seeking formal legal dissolutions.

A primary driver of the low official rate is Sri Lanka’s fault-based legal framework under general civil law. Unlike jurisdictions that allow “no-fault” divorce or swift mutual consent dissolutions, Sri Lankan civil law requires a petitioning spouse to legally prove specific statutory grounds in court, such as adultery, malicious desertion, or incurable impotence present at the time of marriage. Proving these fault grounds often leads to protracted, emotionally exhausting, and financially draining court battles, discouraging many individuals from pursuing a final decree. Furthermore, personal status matters for Muslim Sri Lankans are governed separately under the Quazi court system via the Muslim Marriage and Divorce Act, which operates under distinct statutory procedures.

Because navigating the formal legal system is so cumbersome and costly, hundreds of couples choose informal separation rather than court litigation. Living apart without legally dissolving the marriage on paper remains a common alternative, meaning official marriage registries undercount the true rate of domestic breakdown. Additionally, strong cultural norms, family expectations, economic dependencies, and social stigma—particularly affecting women—exert significant pressure on spouses to remain legally married even when cohabitation has permanently ceased.

Sri Lanka and other countries

Comparing Sri Lanka, India, and the United States reveals stark contrasts in divorce rates, legal frameworks, and societal attitudes toward marital dissolution. Statistically, Sri Lanka reports an official crude divorce rate of approximately 0.15 divorces per 1,000 people, annually, while India reports a rate of roughly 1 per 1,000. In contrast, the United States records a significantly higher crude divorce rate of around 2.5 per 1,000 people, with roughly 40% to 45% of first marriages ending in divorce. However, these figures reflect distinct judicial mechanisms and cultural expectations rather than a simple measure of marital harmony.

The primary legal distinction lies in the availability of “no-fault” divorce mechanisms. All 50 US.states allow no-fault divorce, enabling either party to dissolve a marriage by citing irreconcilable differences without assigning blame. India occupies a middle ground, where major personal law codes—such as the Hindu Marriage Act—permit divorce by mutual consent, provided the couple undergoes a court-mandated waiting period intended for potential reconciliation. Sri Lanka maintains the most restrictive regime among the three, requiring a petitioning spouse under general civil law to prove specific statutory faults, such as adultery or malicious desertion, through formal adversarial court proceedings.

Pluralistic personal law systems also shape how marital disputes are handled in South Asia compared to North America. Both Sri Lanka and India apply distinct personal status laws, based on religious or ethnic identity, such as Kandyan and Muslim laws in Sri Lanka, or Hindu, Muslim, and Christian personal codes in India. In contrast, the US relies strictly on uniform state civil codes for property division, spousal maintenance, and child custody, eliminating religious adjudication from the legal process.

Official divorce rates in Sri Lanka and India significantly undercount actual marital breakdowns. High legal costs, protracted court battles, and strong social stigma often lead estranged couples in both South Asian nations to choose informal, permanent separation over formal legal proceedings. In the United States, clear statutory procedures for asset distribution and custody arrangements encourage individuals to formally conclude their marriages through the judicial system rather than living in legal limbo.

Unmarried Sri Lankans

Data from the Department of Census and Statistics reveals that the proportion of the population that has never married has risen dramatically to over 40 percent. This shift reflects a major demographic transition characterised by delayed marriages, changing socio-economic priorities, and economic instability that has led many young adults to postpone or forego marriage altogether.

While both men and women are increasingly remaining unmarried, the trend manifests differently across genders due to distinct socio-demographic factors. Men generally marry at an older age than women—with the average age at first marriage rising toward 29 years for men compared to around 25 to 26 years for women. As a result, in younger adult cohorts, a noticeably higher percentage of men remain single at any given time.

Conversely, a different demographic dynamic affects women in older age cohorts. Sri Lanka exhibits a distinct gender imbalance in its total population, with women outnumbering men—there are roughly 93 males for every 100 females nationwide. This imbalance, combined with higher female life expectancy and significant labour migration of men seeking overseas employment, creates a structural shortage of eligible partners for women in certain age groups, contributing to a growing number of women remaining unmarried or living alone in later life.

The marriage expectations and ages by gender can be inferred through matrimonial advertisements in newspapers. Matrimonial advertisements, published in leading Sri Lankan weekend newspapers, offer a revealing look into the country’s shifting demographic trends and evolving marital preferences. These classified sections, traditionally placed by parents or family elders, rather than the individuals themselves, reflect a structured marriage market where personal expectations, economic security, and socio-cultural compatibility intersect.

The age profile of individuals advertised in these columns mirrors the broader national trend toward delayed marriage. For women, the typical age range featured in listings spans from 24 to 32 years, while for men, advertisers generally range between 28 and 38 years. Furthermore, advertisements for individuals in their late thirties, forties, or older have become increasingly common, particularly in notices seeking secondary marriages following a legal divorce or the loss of a spouse. The concentration of listings in older age brackets highlights how higher educational pursuits, career establishment, and economic challenges have pushed marriage further into adulthood.

Horoscope compatibility

Expectations detailed in newspapers emphasise a combination of traditional socio-cultural criteria and modern status indicators. Horoscope compatibility remains a fundamental requirement across a large majority of listings, alongside considerations of caste, religion, and regional background. Personal character is heavily weighted, with advertisements for men frequently specifying a desire for non-smoking, non-drinking partners, while descriptions for women routinely emphasise moral standing, domestic capability, and physical attributes.

Socio-economic standing and professional qualifications serve as primary benchmarks in prospective partner selection. Listings placed by women’s families heavily prioritise male suitors with secure employment in established sectors, such as medicine, engineering, law, management, or government service, alongside evidence of financial stability or asset ownership. Advertisements for men similarly seek educated and career-minded partners, though often balancing professional credentials with traditional family values. Notably, both publications feature a substantial proportion of listings placed by or seeking non-resident Sri Lankans and dual citizens, reflecting the strong pull of foreign residency and international mobility as desirable attributes in prospective matches.

Horoscope matching and dowry expectations in Sri Lankan matrimonial advertisements reflect a delicate interplay between longstanding cultural traditions and modern socio-economic realities. These two elements serve as primary filtering mechanisms during the initial stages of family-mediated matchmaking, helping families gauge spiritual alignment, family background, and long-term economic compatibility.

Horoscope compatibility remains a nearly indispensable prerequisite across a vast majority of Sinhala and Hindu marriage notices. Advertisements routinely include explicit phrases such as “send copy of horoscope with reply” or “astrologically compatible match sought,” underscoring the belief that planetary positions at birth dictate marital longevity, health, and mutual prosperity. Families often consult professional astrologers (nakath karayo) to compare charts (Janma-pathra) before engaging in direct personal meetings. Beyond general alignment, specific astrological conditions—such as Kuja Dosha or planetary placements associated with delayed marriage—are actively declared or sought out to ensure balanced pairings, making astrological clearance the first major gatekeeper in the proposal process.

Dowry expectations

Dowry expectations have undergone a significant transformation in contemporary Sri Lanka, evolving from explicit demands for wealth into subtle indicators of financial security and asset sharing. While direct references to cash or specific dowry amounts have largely disappeared from modern newspaper classifieds due to changing social norms, advertisements routinely signal material contributions through references to family assets. Listings placed by a bride’s family frequently highlight inherited residential properties, land parcels, vehicles, or substantial financial savings, framed positively as background assets rather than a mandatory transaction. Conversely, advertisements placed by grooms’ families often emphasise secure professional income and housing ownership, establishing an expectation of shared socio-economic parity between both lineages.

Ultimately, the portrayal of horoscopes and dowry in matrimonial advertisements illustrates how Sri Lankan families preserve traditional cultural safeguards while adapting to contemporary legal and economic environments. Horoscopes continue to function as an essential spiritual and psychological reassurance of harmony, while evolving dowry practices reflect a mutual investment strategy focused on helping young couples navigate modern economic pressures and establish financial stability.

Digital matrimonial platforms

Digital matrimonial platforms, dedicated matchmaking websites, and social media networks are reshaping traditional matchmaking practices in Sri Lanka. While the core objectives—securing compatible, stable, and family-approved partnerships—remain consistent, the shift to digital infrastructure has decentralised the matchmaking process, giving individuals greater agency while altering how personal data and socio-economic expectations are presented.

Specialised digital matrimony sites, such as Poruwa.lk and Matchmaker.lk, have modernised print classifieds by replacing brevity with structured digital profiles. Unlike newspaper advertisements, which are constrained by line limits and word costs, digital profiles allow candidates, or their families, to upload detailed personal biographies, verified educational certificates, career histories, and multiple photographs. Privacy controls on platforms, like Poruwa.lk, allow users to restrict photo visibility and obscure contact details until a mutual interest is established, offering safety and discretion that public newspaper columns cannot provide.

Social media platforms, particularly dedicated Facebook groups and WhatsApp channels, have democratised proposal exchanges across urban and rural demographics alike. These informal digital groups allow families and self-registering candidates to post notices directly without incurring publishing fees or relying on commercial matchmaking brokers. The interactive nature of social media enables direct messaging between interested parties, reducing the initial lag time typical of postal or phone responses generated by newspaper listings.

Digital matchmaking has also transformed how traditional criteria like horoscopes and dowry assets are handled. Many online platforms integrate digital horoscope software directly into their search filters, enabling automated chart matching before contact is initiated. Similarly, asset preferences are often communicated through structured fields detailing property ownership, foreign residency status, or career mobility, rendering explicit dowry discussions obsolete. By streamlining preliminary vetting, digital platforms allow Sri Lankans, especially young professionals and expatriates, to balance traditional familial expectations with modern efficiency.

Family-mediated marriages

While subtle differences exist in framing, with a popular English weekly in Sri Lanka leaning toward urban, English-speaking, and expatriate circles, and its Sinhala counterpart serving a wider Sinhala-speaking demographic, both mediums demonstrate that family-mediated marriage in Sri Lanka remains deeply anchored in structured compatibility, educational status, and long-term financial security.

Socio-economic factors also drive these decisions differently across genders. For many men, the financial burden of establishing an independent household, securing stable employment, and meeting traditional expectations of financial provision causes prolonged delays in marriage. For women, expanded educational attainment and changing lifestyle expectations mean that marriage is increasingly viewed alongside career goals or personal independence, rather than as an immediate or mandatory life milestone.

The severe economic volatility and escalating inflation experienced in Sri Lanka have acted as direct catalysts in altering traditional family planning and delaying marriage. Establishing a new household requires significant upfront capital, including funding wedding ceremonies, housing deposits, and securing household goods. With sharp rises in the cost of living and persistent real wage stagnation, young adults face immense financial barriers, prompting couples to postpone marriage or avoid formal marital commitments until economic conditions stabilise. (To be continued)

Features

What nature knows that humanity has forgotten

Published

22 hours ago

2026/10/19

Thilina Walpola

Urban development

by Dr Debapriya Mukherjee
Former Senior Scientist
Central Pollution Control Board

Human beings often treat nature as an unlimited storehouse, clearing forests, polluting rivers and degrading soil for immediate gain. Animals and plants, without environmental policies or scientific knowledge, survive through relationships with their surroundings and other forms of life. An elephant needs connected habitats; a bee depends on flowers; a tree supports organisms while drawing nutrients from the soil. Humans can understand these connections, yet too often act as if their consequences did not concern us.

Elephants remind us that habitats cannot survive as isolated islands. Elephants disperse seeds and shape vegetation through feeding. Roads, railway lines, mines and settlements can obstruct their movements, increasing the risk of accidents and encounters with people. An elephant entering a village may reflect not only animal behaviour but also habitat fragmentation or changes in access to food and water. Protecting elephants therefore means conserving the corridors connecting essential habitats, not merely preserving separate patches of forest.

Vultures reveal the value of nature’s unsung services. These scavengers consume carcasses and help remove decaying animal material. India’s vulture crisis, linked particularly to exposure to the veterinary drug diclofenac, showed how a chemical used for one purpose can disrupt a distant ecological process. A creature often dismissed as unattractive may perform a service whose loss has far-reaching consequences.

Bees and bats reveal the biological foundations of food security. Bees pollinate many crops and wild plants. Certain bats also pollinate flowers, disperse seeds or consume insects. Habitat destruction, pesticide exposure and loss of food sources can threaten these contributions. Agricultural success cannot be judged by yield alone; the health of pollinators and the wider landscape also matter.

: Frog

: Bee

Frogs can warn us of environmental disturbance. Many amphibians have permeable skin and depend on both aquatic and terrestrial habitats. Some populations are sensitive to pollution, pesticides, habitat loss and disease. Frogs also consume insects and provide food for birds, snakes and other animals. Their decline does not identify a particular pollutant by itself, but it can warrant investigation. A pond may still hold water while losing important elements of ecological health.

Earthworms and termites reveal the living world beneath our feet. Earthworms contribute to soil structure and organic-matter decomposition. Termites recycle plant material and influence soil formation in many environments. Alongside fungi and bacteria, these organisms sustain processes essential to soil health. This matters to agriculture: applying cow dung or vermicompost does not guarantee a good crop if soil conditions and nutrient requirements are unknown. Agricultural inputs should be chosen according to soil properties, water availability and crop needs.

“Elephants remind us that habitats cannot survive as isolated islands. Elephants disperse seeds and shape vegetation through feeding. roads, railway lines, mines and settlements can obstruct their movements, increasing the risk of accidents and encounters with people.” (A file photo by picture by Dilum Alagiyawanna.)

Mangroves

Fig trees and native grasses show why conservation must respect each habitat’s character. Many fig species depend on specialised fig wasps for pollination, while their fruits feed birds, bats and other animals. Native grasses provide food and shelter for insects, birds and grazing animals. Planting trees everywhere is therefore not necessarily ecological restoration. Converting natural grasslands into tree plantations can damage habitats adapted to open landscapes. Conservation must protect the ecosystem suited to each place, not simply increase tree numbers.

Mangroves and wetland plants provide natural protection. Mangroves support wildlife, trap sediments in suitable conditions and can reduce wave energy and coastal erosion. Wetlands store water, provide habitat and cycle nutrients; some also help moderate flooding. Neither can prevent every cyclone or flood, but destroying these systems without assessing their functions may increase risks and the cost of protecting communities.

Nature is not a world of perfect cooperation. Predators hunt prey, plants compete for sunlight, and organisms sometimes harm one another. Its lesson lies instead in interdependence, environmental limits and the consequences of disruption.

Development is often measured through roads built, buildings completed and economic returns. These achievements matter, but the picture is incomplete when ecological damage is ignored or its costs are transferred to other communities. Science enables us to examine impacts before approving projects, protect wildlife corridors before they are severed, test soil before choosing inputs and assess wetlands before filling them. Knowledge, however, protects nature only when it influences decisions.

Nature does not ask humanity to abandon progress. It asks us to distinguish genuine progress from activities that destroy their own ecological foundations. A vulture, frog, bat, termite or fig tree may seem insignificant in isolation; their importance emerges through the processes they sustain.

The living world offers no simple moral sermon, but a scientific truth: a civilisation that neglects the ecological relationships sustaining life ultimately undermines its own future.

Features

Man Behind the Music: Ananda Ganegoda and Singlanka

Published

22 hours ago

2026/10/19

Thilina Walpola

Ananda Ganegoda

A tribute to the man who believed Sri Lankan music deserved the very best

by Vindana Ariyawansa

Some people build companies. Others build institutions that outlive them. When Ananda Ganegoda passed away last week at the age of 81, he left behind something far larger than a business: a cultural landmark whose logo sits on the cassette shelves of countless Sri Lankan homes, and whose songs many of us grew up with without knowing the man who made them possible.

For decades, his name and Singlanka were one and the same. Both stand for the belief that Sri Lankan music deserved the highest standard of quality in its content, its production and its presentation.

“Singlanka: the symbol of excellence in creation and of priceless perfection in finish!”

That was the promise printed in the company’s advertising, and Ananda Ganegoda spent his life trying to keep it.

A friendship that changed a life

In the 1970s, Ganegoda was already a successful businessman from an industrialist family, running enterprises alongside his brothers. Then he met pop singer Milton Mallawarachchi, and the friendship became a turning point.

Through Milton, he came to know many of the country’s most celebrated artistes. He admired them deeply, and they welcomed him into their circle. Before long, the businessman had become something rarer: a patron who supported the country’s artistic endeavours out of genuine love for them.

Worried for the artistes

By the late 1970s the audio cassette had become the most practical way to sell music, and many businessmen rushed into the trade. Ganegoda watched this with concern. He worried about what it meant for singers’ creative and financial independence, and whether the people who made the music would share fairly in its rewards.

At the request of leading artists, he decided to enter music production himself. He did it, by every account, without commercial ambition. His only intention was to serve the artists.

18 March 1980

Singlanka was founded on 18 March 1980 as a limited company. Its founding team was remarkable. Clarence Wijewardana, the celebrated singer and songwriter, joined it. So did the renowned lyricist Kularatna Ariyawansa, who gave up his government job to be part of the venture, and continued to this day as its creative director. Vijaya Ramanayake, owner of the Tharanga record label, took charge of distribution.

Dozens of veteran artists who were close friends of Ganegoda handed over songs they had recorded independently to be released under the new label. Many new songs were recorded under the guidance of Clarence Wijewardana and Vijaya Ramanayake. In April 1980, Singlanka launched with 25 albums at once.

The first cassettes were produced in Singapore and imported. Because Sri Lanka then lacked the facilities to print Sinhala on the covers, the first sleeves carried their titles and information in English. Listeners objected, and the albums were quickly re-released with new covers in Sinhala.

By December 1980, 15 more albums recorded earlier in the year had followed. That same year, the Singlanka recording studio opened in Nugegoda under Clarence Wijewardana’s supervision. Equipped with the latest technology, it produced the country’s first eight-track recordings. Ganegoda invested heavily in it, and with veteran recordist Dayananda Perera at the helm it became the busiest and most respected studio in the country.

One roof, one family

The year 1981 was a landmark for the company. Ganegoda held a strong conviction that artists should not be left at the mercy of a fluctuating cassette market, which made careers unpredictable and unsustainable. If he could give them stability under one roof, he believed, they could give their energy to their art instead of worrying about money.

So, he invited them to join Singlanka, and they came. Amaradeva, Nanda Malini, Victor Rathnayaka, Sanath Nandasiri, Milton Mallawarachchi, Gunadasa Kapuge, Priya Sooriyasena, Sisira Senarathna, Indrani Wijayabandara, Malkanthi Nandasiri, Clarence Wijewardana, Anton Jones, Abeywardana Balasooriya and Niranjala Sarojini became exclusive Singlanka artists. Sunil Edirisinghe, T. M. Jayaratna, Somathilaka Jayamaha, Karunarathna Divulgane, Deepika Priyadarshani, Janaka Wickramasinghe, Rohan Bulegoda and Dayan Witharana joined them later.

Singlanka also produced best-selling albums by H. R. Jothipala, M. S. Fernando, Desmond de Silva, Nihal Nelson and Vijaya Kumaratunga.

The journey was not without heartache. Some ventures did not bear fruit, and it pained him when a few artistes left the label over the years. But the majority stayed, which says something about the man they stayed with.

A company of firsts

Singlanka’s catalogue reads like a record of firsts for Sri Lankan music:

· In April 1981, it released the first film soundtrack on cassette, for Sunil Ariyaratna’s Vajira.

· That year it also released Nanda Malini Live in London, the country’s first live-recorded cassette.

· In 1982, Ganegoda began replicating cassettes in Sri Lanka itself, having previously relied on Singapore. Veteran musician Rohana Weerasinghe left his government teaching post to join the company in 1983.

· In 1983, Prof. Ediriweera Sarachchandra’s iconic play Sinhabahu was released on a double cassette. Noorthi and Nadagam Songs, directed by Punyasena Gunasinghe, followed as another first.

· In 1984, under Sanath Nandasiri’s direction, came Madhubani, the country’s first album of classical instrumentals and songs, launched with a classical concert at Colombo’s Tower Hall.

· The same year, Nanda Malini’s double vinyl album Sathyaye Geethaya was released. Vinyl was not in popular demand at the time, so the experiment was not continued.

· In 1987, one of Ganegoda’s dream projects came true with Dorata Waduma, an album by six talented amateur singers. It introduced the singer Deepika Priyadarshani.

· In 1987, Sansare Api became the first collection of songs written by a member of the clergy, the Venerable Rambukkana Siddhartha.

· In 1989, Dhammapada Geethaya set verses of the Dhammapada to song.

The famous Singlanka logo was designed by Charlie Chang of Singapore. It has since become a timeless emblem of quality Sinhala music. In its first decade alone, Singlanka produced 136 original albums, a remarkable achievement for a company built on original recordings.

A patron of the nation’s culture

Ganegoda’s generosity reached well beyond his own studio. During its first two decades, Singlanka contributed financially to virtually every prominent national artistic event in the country.

In the early 1980s he sponsored concert tours to the United Kingdom for Amaradeva, Sisira Senarathna, Indrani Wijayabandara, Sunil Edirisinghe, Malani Bulathsinhala, Sanath Nandasiri and Malkanthi Nandasiri, carrying Sri Lankan music to audiences abroad.

He supported the first Sarasaviya Film Festival at the BMICH in 1980, the University of Colombo Art Festival, the G. B. Senanayake scholarship at the University of Sri Jayewardenepura, and the Mahagama Sekara Memorial Festival. He supported the Amaradeva felicitation event, the Children’s Books Society’s book exhibitions and prize-givings, the Bandaranaike Memorial Foundation Fund, and the Charles Silva Gunasinghe Memorial Fund. He supported the Vesak Bhakthi Gee Festival of the Lake House Buddhist Society, the “40 Years of Sinhala Cinema” event organised by the film critics and writers’ society, Prof. Sarachchandra’s drama festival, and the Premakeerthi Tribute Festival.

He also helped launch Amaradeva’s Naada Siththam, Dharmasiri Gamage’s Sulan Kurullo, and the concert Mage Swarayayi Obe Ridmayayi by Victor Ratnayake and Premasiri Kemadasa. These are only some of the many occasions on which he quietly gave his support.

More than a company

Today, Ananda Ganegoda’s name and Singlanka are inseparable. Singlanka is more than a record label. It is a cultural emblem of Sri Lanka, one that preserved the country’s musical heritage and identity for a generation and set a benchmark that the industry still looks to.

He began as a businessman who befriended a singer. He became a guardian of Sri Lankan music, giving artists a home, a stage and the security to create. Most of the millions who have hummed those songs may never have known his name. But every time a Singlanka melody plays, his dream is still being heard.