Features

Ceylon’s first university in memory and imagination

Published

3 years ago

2023/02/12

Thilina Walpola

OLD PERADENIYA

By Ernest Macintyre

INTRODUCTION

The Mahaweli River, 335 long, the longest river in Lanka, has its beginning in a remote village of Nuwara-Eliya District in the central hills, and ends going into the sea at the Bay of Bengal on the east coast at Trincomalee. As it passes Kandy, the main town of the central province, and goes south about six kilometers, it bends at an elbow to the shape of an arm, to cradle within an expanse of habitation born from nature accommodating Lankan classical and colonial architecture, the residential University of Ceylon, Peradeniya.

From the sandy banks of the river the richly vegetated land slopes gently upward till it reaches the old Galaha Road along which on either side, from the Botanical Gardens junction, north to the ancient Buddhist village of Hindagla ,south, are the buildings designed by architect Shirley D’ Alwis. Sir Ivor Jennings, the first Vice Chancellor took the lead in proposing and constructing the sober and dignified monument in architect Shirley D’Alwis’s honour that is situated at the first roundabout on this central road of the campus with a shallow pond all around it.

The Mahaweli from which we rose up to Galaha road is only one side of the story of nature’s promise. On the other side of Galaha, all along, the land rises further to reach in the distance, the Hantana chain of mountains. Hantana is a chain of seven mountains, surrounded by forest. From the top of the mountains is seen, at the rising of the sun, the University, faraway.

This sunrise in 1955, all was quiet on the campus. There were no students, yet. Ones already at university had four more weeks before term started. But shortly, the many hundreds of new students, those who had just gained entrance would arrive.

So we have a little time to take a walk along Galaha Road Near the village of Hindagala, in the south, where in the mid-1950s the campus ended, was the large Ramanathan Hall. It was the largest of the halls of residence, with three floors and named after Sir Ponnambalam Ramanathan who was associated with the movement for independence from Britain for the colony of Ceylon.

Turning back from Ramanathan along Galaha Road ,returning northwards, quite close to Ramanathan was Sangamitta Hall and Hilda Obeyesekere Hall, and also close by, up a hill on the Hantana side was James Peiris Hall. All three for female undergrads.

Sangamitta Hall needs a little more telling; it being the only one with a ancient historical name. Sangamitta was the title or description given to the daughter of King Ashoka of India (about 270 BC). Her name was Ayapali, and was referred to as Sangamitta when she joined the order of Buddhist nuns. Sangamitta and her brother Mahinda were sent by Ashoka their father to spread the Word of The Buddha south across India and ending in Lanka.

James Peiris and Hilda Obeyesekare whom the other two close by halls were named after, were prominent and wealthy social and political figures of the early twentieth century.

To divert now to an undergraduate activity allowable in adulthood in a residential facility of both sexes. The young men called it Kissing Bend. Despite the mischievous manipulation of language enjoyed freely in Peradeniya , Kissing Bend was not a curved part of the physical make up of one of the genders. It was an area of hard asphalt on the ground on Galaha road, where we are now on our walk through the campus.

A location of love’s reluctant closing moments of an evening after Mahaweli meetings. The Kissing Bend, with a big tree covering on one side. Kissing goodnight was just before seven in the evening, the stipulated time for women to be back in their halls, after returning from sessions close together on the banks of the Mahaveli .

young males and females, without the cultural restraint of Pirivena origin, in a university of Western imagination, allowed them freedom of nature. An old English song, ” I Met My Little Bright Eyed Doll, Down By The Riverside”, may have had its Sinhala version, much sung in Peradeniya at the time, ” Mage as deka dilisena bonikka ganga iney sambuna”, emerging from the banks of Peradeniya’s Mahaweli.

Kissing Bend was an important land mark, for as Professor Sarachchandra is reported to have once said to undergraduates: “Peradeniya is not only for passing exams, it is for the passing of young lives, at a time when it is surging.” He did not mean kissing at the bend, yet it relates to human surge and emotion in youth ,and accompanying thought, extends to works of art, which the professor had in mind. It requires imagination to extend to the surge of art, closely pressed bodies and upright, with entangled legs at Kissing Bend. Today it is probably called “imbina wangua“, with the growth of the use of Sinhala.

Moving from alongside Hilda Obeyasekara Hall now in the other direction from Hindagala, the next important structures in those times were the impressive administrative buildings, library and lecture rooms on the left and Arunachalam and Jayatileka halls side by side on the right, named again, after important political figures of the time. From Jayatitilake Hall can be seen the Shirley D’Awis memorial. Honouring the architect who in design, gave to Peradeniya man’s complement to nature. These buildings were given special mention, whatever the intention of the words mean, when the recently departed Queen of Britain and her husband Philip formally declared the University of Ceylon, open.

In the view from Jayatilleka Hall beyond this memorial was the sports grounds and tennis courts. To the right of the sports field was a makeshift accommodation, the Faculty Club. The evening club for the academic staff, who in keeping with their intellectual claims could think better with a drink. This club, apart from private homes was the only place arrack could be had on campus. The two immediate progressions from schooldays to university were ” áll but” freedom with the opposite sex and arrack. The former was easily and discreetly available, the latter prohibited on campus, yet consumed growingly, in the town of Peradeniya and the city of Kandy, bringing back its heartily displayed consumption to the campus.

Further north to the right on Galaha road, beyond Jayatilleka Hall was a narrow asphalt strip branching upwards to the seventh student residence, Marrs Hall, named after an important academic and university official, in its early Colombo University College of London days.

Seven halls of residence somewhat autonomous with an elected student president and a warden. The close social relationships were within each hall, the three meal sittings a convenient regrouping after dispersal into the larger campus body for lectures and tutorials, presided over by people who now, the years have taken away, together with some whom they lectured to, now in their mid eighties. Luudowyk, Passe, Doric de Souza, Sarachchandra, Siri Gunasinghe, H.A.de .S Gunasekara, Vaithianandan, Cuthbert Amarasinghe, Van den Driesen, Sinnappa Arasaratnam, La Brooy, Miss. Mathiaparanam and Basil Mendis. Some from the many.

The ones they educated in the mid fifties will be now in their mid eighties. The lecturers will be remembered for some time more.

Very modern the halls of residence were, with every contemporary facility students could ask for. In fact, Ramanathan Hall may have gone too far , socially inconsiderate, in installing bidets in each toilet. Small porcelain basins fixed to the floor, which spouted water upwards when its tap was opened, to serve the sitter on the bidet. Bidet is an old French word for “pony”, and was associated with Royalty ,the notion that one “rides” or straddles a bidet much like a pony is ridden. Even the Colombo “kultur” students felt more secure in their old manual methods, leaving the French “ponies” as obtrusive ornaments.

To get back to those times, we now move outside to a place that mainly served the campus. The steam train from Colombo had arrived at the small nearby Peradeniya railway station.

That morning the small station was packed with young men and women.They had come from all parts of the country. A good many were from Colombo schools. Amongst names of Sinhala and Tamil origin there were also significant numbers of Fernandos, Silvas and Pereras, resulting from the long Portuguese part of Ceylon history.

Because of free education introduced in 1948, they were well matched in numbers by those from rural Ceylon . South, Central Ceylon and North West below the Jaffna Peninsula which brought into the campus names like Deekiriwewa and Menikdiwela. TheNorth Westerners converged at Polgahawela, and then to Colombo, to change trains for Peradeniya.

The Central Province provided a mixture of Colombo and rural types. Breckenridge , Dhanapala and Senaratne are three we remember, from Trinity College and Premaratne the cricketer from Katugastota. They were not at the station, because they were close enough to Peradeniya.

There were the not so westernised Tamils from Jaffna and the Eastern Province. Not as westernised as the young Tamil men and women of the Colombo schools who had a long history of migration from Jaffna, from 1905, when the first train left Kankesanthurai for the capital city. Singhams, Lingams, Moorthys, Samys amongst others were all there at Peradeniya.

The Ceylon Moors were well spread, Colombo, Kandy, Jaffna and the Eastern Province. We remember Raheem of Royal ,Lafir and Mohamed Mustapha Ibrahim. So, the chatter on the station platform was very mixed. English, mostly from the Colombo schools and the Burghers, Sinhala from the very large area of provinces outside Colombo and Tamil from north and east.

Females, jostled with the males, in a way schoolboys and schoolgirls which they were a few months ago, had not been allowed. They would all be in close residence very soon, after transport from the station in vans. With the exception that females lived in separate halls, morning to evening they were free to be with males, including evening privacy on the banks of the Mahaweli, and at dusk, parting proximities of “Kissing Bend”.

Men together with women hiking up to Hantane in the weekends was another opportunity by which this university helped indicate, conservatively and intelligently, that men and women were meant by nature and civilization to prepare, to mate in proper time.

Significant on the station that morning was race or cultural mixing together. Peradeniya was probably the first social formation in Lanka where Sinhalese and Tamils, Ceylon Moors ,Malays and Burghers in significant numbers would actually live closely and rub shoulders with each other, sharing rooms , dining tables , sport, art , social events and academic discourse.

College House of University College, London University, had a small number of Sinhalese, Tamils and other minorities resident, but that university was largely non-residential. Government departments and commercial firms had both Sinhalese and Tamils and other ethnicities. But no institution in Lanka, before Peradeniya had thousands as one community living, day and night, closely together.

Peradeniya especially opened the opportunity for Sinhalese, Tamil, Moors, Burghers, and Malay youth to explore and conclude that they were one humanity.

Two other identifiable “cultural” groups, outside of ethnicity, that did not initially mix, that is in the 1950’s, were what students called the “O Facs” and the “Kulturs”. The students of the oriental faculties, largely from rural schools who opted for Pali, Sanskrit, Sinhala apart from Economics and History and the urban school students, mainly Colombo, Kandy, Galle and the like who did English. Latin, Greek, Economics, Western Philosophy, History.

It was unfortunate that this unreal social divide very likely created by the cultural snobbery of Colombo school products came into the campus, for it was the “O Facs” who within a year stamped Peradeniya with a cultural creation hallmarking Sri Lankan culture and launching it into South Asian recognition. Maname, a Sinhala creation that stands alongside any dramatic work, anywhere. In time this remnant colonial division imperceptibly wore out.

This day of Peradeniya also saw the last congregation of Burghers, in significant number, benefiting university contribution to the country. Though it is common to hear of Portuguese Burghers and Dutch Burghers of Ceylon, they are of varied European descent like in the composition of the mixed European De Meuron Regiment first employed by the Dutch , then serving the British and finally being disbanded in 1816 in Colombo to become part of the population From that station platform or directly onto the campus that morning, there were names like Ludowyk, Pietresz, Ondaatje, Roosmale- Cocq, Taylor, Hingert, De Zoysa, Elhart, Van der Gert, De Lay, Moldrich, Wouterz, Solomons, Jansen, Roberts, De Saram, Nicolle, Schrader, Forbes and Hepponstal. Most were unaware this morning that Peradeniya was to be only a short stopover, on their way to Melbourne.

The government’s language policy change, displacing English was a year later. Hepponstall sensed the change. He migrated to Melbourne after only one term in Peradeniya, causing Vanderdergert to quip, “What happened to Hepponstall can happen to us all”. And it eventually did. A lost tribe of Lanka. Still identifiable mainly in Melbourne.

Soon the station platform was again empty. Vans organized by the university transported the freshers to their halls of residence where a small number arriving in their parent’s cars were already establishing themselves.

A wonderful blessing of nature and human architecture was to be theirs for the next three or four years.Beyond the promise of this bend in the river on either side spread the also alluring country that sustained it. This island’s modern history, a trajectory, which Aristotle would have called a given Plot or circumstance could not leave its first university untouched, as this story will unfold.

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Features

Sri Lanka’s new govt.: Early promise, growing concerns

Published

3 hours ago

2026/05/6

Sahan Weerasooriya

President Anura Kumara Dissanayake’s demeanour, body language, and speaking style appear to have changed noticeably in recent weeks, a visible sign of embarrassment. The most likely reason is a stark contradiction between what he once publicly criticised and analysed so forcefully, and what his government is actually doing today. His own recent speeches seem to reflect that contradiction, sometimes coming across as confused and inconsistent. This is becoming widely known, not just through social media, YouTube, and television discussions, but also through speeches on the floor of Parliament itself.

Doing exactly what the previous government did

What is now becoming clear is that instead of doing things the way the President promised, his government is simply carrying on with what the previous administration, particularly Ranil Wickremesinghe’s government, was already doing. Critically, some of the most senior positions in the state, positions that demand the most experienced and capable officers, are being filled by people who are loyal to the JVP/NPP party but lack the relevant qualifications and track record.

Such politically motivated appointments have already taken place across various government ministries, some state corporations, the Central Bank, the Treasury, and at multiple levels of the public service. There have also been forced resignations, bans on resignations, and transfers of officials.

What makes this particularly serious is that President Dissanayake has had to come to Parliament repeatedly to defend and “clean up” the reputations of officials he himself appointed. This looks, at times, like a painful and almost theatrical exercise.

The coal procurement scandal, and a laughable inquiry

The controversy around the country’s coal power supply has now clearly exposed a massive disaster: shady tenders, damage to the Norochcholai power plant, rising electricity bills due to increased diesel use to compensate, a shortage of diesel, higher diesel prices, and serious environmental damage. This is a wide and well-documented catastrophe.

Yet, when a commission was appointed to investigate, the government announced it would look into events going back to 2009, which many have called an absurd joke, clearly designed to deflect blame rather than find answers.

The Treasury scandal, 10 suspicious transactions

At the Treasury, what was initially presented as a single transaction, is alleged to involve 10 transactions, and it is plainly a case of fraud. A genuine mistake might happen once or twice. As one commentator said sarcastically, “If a mistake can happen 10 times, it must be a very talented hand.” These explanations are being treated as pure comedy.

Attempts to justify all of this have sometimes turned threatening. A speech made on May 1st by Tilvin Silva is a case in point, crude and menacing in tone.

Is the government losing its grip?

Former Minister Patali Champika has said the government is now suffering from a phobia of loss of power, meaning it is struggling to govern effectively. Other commentators have noted that the NPP/JVP may have taken on a burden too heavy to carry. Political cartoons have depicted the NPP’s crown loaded with coal, financial irregularities, and political appointments, bending under the weight.

The problem with appointing loyalists over qualified professionals

Appointing own supporters to senior positions is not itself unusual in politics. But it becomes a betrayal of public trust when those appointed lack the basic qualifications or relevant experience for the roles they are given.

A clear example is the appointment of the Treasury Secretary, someone who was visible at virtually every NPP election campaign event, but whose qualifications and exposure/experiences may not match the demands of such a critical position. Even if someone has a doctorate or professorship, the key question is whether those qualifications are relevant to the role, and whether that person has the experience/exposure to lead a team of seasoned professionals.

By contrast, even someone without formal academic credentials can succeed if they have the right skills and surround themselves with advisors with relevant exposure. The real failure is when loyalty to a political party overrides all other considerations, that is a fundamental betrayal of responsibility.

The problem is not unique to this government. In 2015, the appointment of Arjuna Mahendran as Central Bank Governor was a similar blunder. His tenure ended in scandal involving insider dealing and bond market manipulation. However, in that case, the funds involved were frozen and later confiscated by the following government, however legally questionable that process was.

The current Treasury losses, by contrast, may be unrecoverable. Critics say getting that money back would be next to impossible.

The broader damage: Demoralisation of capable officials

When loyalists are placed above competent career officials in key positions, it demoralises the best public servants. Some begin to comply in fear; others lose motivation entirely. The professional hierarchy breaks down. Junior officials start looking over their shoulders instead of doing their jobs. This collective dysfunction is ultimately what destroys governments.

Sri Lanka’s pattern: every government falls

This pattern is deeply familiar in Sri Lankan history. The SWRD Bandaranaike government, which swept to power in 1956 on a wave of popular support, had declined badly by 1959. The coalition government, which came to power reducing the opposition to eight seats, lost in 1977, and, in turn, the UNP, which came in on a landslide, in 1977, crushing the SLFP to just eight seats, suffered a similar fate by 1994.

Mahinda Rajapaksa came to power in 2005 by the narrowest of margins, in part because the LTTE manipulated the Northern vote against Ranil Wickremesinghe. But he was re-elected in 2010 on the strength of ending the war against the LTTE. Still, by 2015, he was voted out, because the benefits of winning the war were never truly delivered to ordinary people, and because large-scale corruption had taken root in the meantime. Gotabaya Rajapaksa didn’t even last long enough to see his term end.

Now, this government, too, is showing early signs of the same decline.

The ideological contradiction at the heart of the NPP

There is another challenge: though the JVP presents itself as a left-wing, Marxist-socialist party, many of those who joined the broader NPP coalition, businesspeople, academics, professionals, do not hold such ideological views. Balancing a left-leaning party with a centre-right coalition is extremely difficult. The inevitable tension between the two pulls the government in opposite directions.

The silver lining, however, is that this has produced a growing class of “floating voters”, people not permanently tied to any party, and that is actually healthy for democracy. It keeps governments accountable. Independent election commissions and civil society organisations have a major role to play in informing these voters objectively.

In more developed democracies, voters receive detailed candidate profiles and well-researched information alongside their ballot papers, including, for example, independent expert analyses of referendum questions like drug legalisation. Sri Lanka is still far from that standard. Here, many people vote the same way as their parents. In other countries, five family members might each vote differently without it being a scandal.

Three key ministries, under the President himself, all in trouble

President Dissanayake currently holds three of the most powerful portfolios himself: Defence, Digital Technology, and Finance. All three are now widely seen as performing poorly. Many commentators say the President has “failed” visibly in all three areas. The justifications offered for these failures have themselves become confused, contradictory, and, at times, just plain pitiable.

The overall picture is one of a government that looks helpless, reduced to making excuses and whining from the podium.

A cautious hope for recovery

There are still nearly three years left in this government’s term. There is time to course-correct, if they act quickly. We sincerely hope the government manages to shed this sense of helplessness and confusion, and finds a way to truly serve the country.

(The writer, a senior Chartered Accountant and professional banker, is Professor at SLIIT, Malabe. The views and opinions expressed in this article are personal.)

Features

Cricket and the National Interest

Published

1 day ago

2026/05/5

Sahan Weerasooriya

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

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

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

National Interest

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

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

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

New Recognition

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

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

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

by Jehan Perera

Features

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

Published

1 day ago

2026/05/5

Sahan Weerasooriya

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is not polished. But it works.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

by Sampath Perera recently in Dhaka, Bangladesh