Midweek Review
Dhamma Jagoda’s Vesmuhunu:
Irangani Serasinghe & Rukmani Devi’s Double-Act
By Laleen Jayamanne
A precious historical document was recently ‘unearthed’ by Ranjit, son of Irangani and Winston Serasinghe. It was a theatre programme for Dhamma Jagoda’s 1960s productions of Vesmuhunu (Masks), an adaptation of Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire. I don’t think I am being unduly melodramatic in referring to an ephemeral theatre programme as a ‘precious historical document’. Nor have I made a typo in referring to Jagoda’s ‘productions’, in the plural.
I am grateful to Ranjit Serasinghe for having kindly sent me a copy of this programme. It was indeed a most unusual document because there were details of three different productions of the play, with three different casts, in three different years, all directed by Dhamma Jagoda. And it was bilingual. In 1966, Jagoda’s Vesmuhunu was the only play performed at the Lumbini Theatre Festival, as the winner of the Arts Council’s Drama Competition that year. In that production Roma de Zoysa (a Colombo socialite and daughter of a former Finance Minister), played the main female role of Blanche Dubois the declasse Southern aristocratic lady who had lost her fortunes. In the play, she was presented as a Kandyan lady visiting her sister, who is married to a working-class man played by Dhamma and his own wife Sunethra Jagoda as his wife within the play.
According to the programme, Dhamma restaged Vesmuhunu in 1967 and 1968, in a manner that is worth remembering now, for historical reasons, after all those years. In 1967 the role of the aristocratic lady was played by Rukmani Devi, while in the 1968 production Irangani Serasinghe was chosen for it. Dhamma and Sunethra did not act in this last production, which saw film actors such as Wickrama Bogoda and Sriyani Amerasena join the cast.
Just recently I was reminded of these productions on hearing on Television A. D. Ranjit Kumara (a former editor of the Sarasawiya the weekly film tabloid), speaking of Rukmani Devi’s career. He spoke of Rukmani Devi’s immense sense of gratitude to Dhamma, for having given her the opportunity to perform in a reputable western play for the first time in her long career as a singer, film star and stage actor. He added that she bent down and worshipped Dhamma (a gesture of guru bhakthi), just before going on stage.
While listening to Kumara, I recalled that I had observed both Rukmani Devi and Irangani Serasinghe rehearse Vesmuhunu, but at a later date, perhaps in 1970, during the very early days of the Art Centre Theatre Workshop, which Dhamma directed with the support of Harold Peiris, a trustee of the Lionel Wendt Theatre. In those early days, before the theatre was renovated to house the workshops, Peiris had provided his large open portico with chairs for our theatre studies to be conducted in.
I remember these two actresses rehearsing the play with Dhamma in this very space, and also recall registering the very different timbre and texture of their most unusual, trained voices, as I think others also did. Now, I think that Dhamma was reviving the play he had already directed thrice in the 60s, for the fourth time, in the context of the Theatre Workshop. I left the country not long after and have no memory of a performance outcome, but do remember the workshop being interrupted by the insurrection of April 71. It’s not possible to verify details of a fourth production as Dhamma is long gone and people’s memories have faded away. The only way is for someone to search through the newspaper archives for reviews of the productions. But I wonder if there is sufficient interest to do that kind of arduous archival work, so as to even simply chronicle, at the very least, the 60s theatre. Perhaps, Hague Karunarathne’s Ludowyk Memorial Lecture has already done this, though I haven’t had access to it. If so, then detailed theoretical analyses can be developed by young scholars.
Ranjit Serasinghe mentioned to me that his father’s archive of papers on his parents’ acting careers await digitisation by someone interested in the field. Yet again, I feel that in another country these papers (like those of Siva Sivanandan’s on Lankan cinema), would now be safely in a specialist library accessible for research. Ranjit Kumara’s book on Rukmani Devi might lead the way, but that book too must be a collector’s item now.
Theatre Criticism
The Vesmuhunu programme had many gems. One was a concise but (as always) insightful piece by Regi Siriwardena in English, about the differences between a translation and an adaptation as it applied to Dhamma’s Vesmuhunu and more generally too. He tells us that a good adaptation imaginatively transposes an original context, into a milieu with a local resonance. He added that, in doing this, Dhamma had also improved on the original by deleting its ‘lumbering and creaking obtrusive symbolism’ and its ‘tracks of sentimentality,’ focusing on the human and social conflicts of the original which are its strengths. Knowing the original and Western drama well, Regi was able to make this sharp critical evaluation of how creative Dhamma’s adaptation was, adding that it is one of the few outstanding ones of its time.
The programme also contains a substantial discussion of Dhamma’s theatrical experiment by Vidyodaya academic Tissa Kariyawasam in Sinhala, a brilliant gem in its own right. He says that Dhamma had substantially changed his own version of the written play submitted to the drama competition, in his production for the stage. This observation highlights Dhamma’s theatrical talent as a director in staging emotional states, through physical theatrical action in space.
He makes the important point that the intelligentsia (viyathun), who never thought that Rukmani Devi was a gifted actor, now have the chance to see just how good she is. This evaluation is a profound one, coming from an academic, and he implies that it happened because of Dhamma’s own rare intuitive ability to be able to see it on his own and also act on it so decisively, creating theatre history. Thereby, he enabled Rukmani Devi to excel in a play with considerable cultural capital. Because this programme was made before Irangani’s version of the play was performed, we have no account of her performance and interpretation. But in choosing to have both actors perform the same role for a second time (perhaps in 1970), in close proximity, it’s clear that Dhamma considered both Rukmani Devi and Irangani Serasinghe to be excellent, unique actors, with very different styles of acting. The revealing art photographs in the 1968 program allow us a glimpse of these differences, which I will discuss below.
The quality of Regi and Tissa’s critical writing in the 60s and 70s is exemplary of that period of a bilingual, vibrant theatrical culture in the country, developed by director/writers such as Sarachchandra, Henry Jayasena, Sugathapala de Silva, Gunasena Galappatti, and others. I remember reading the reviews Regi wrote in English in those days and also listening, as a school girl, to the regular radio programme he presented called ‘Arts and Ideas’ which was packed with fascinating information. As a script writer for Lester James Peries and as a multi-lingual translator of poetry from several European languages, including Russian, he was especially interested in the problem of translation and transposition of foreign texts into a local context with its different histories and mores. As he wrote accessibly, and was interested in a philosophy of education, his reviews and talks unfailingly widened our knowledge. So, in this case, he offered T.S. Eliot’s ideas on translation and creative adaptation and also mentioned that Shakespeare and many others adapted pre-existing texts. Thereby making the point that creativity is to be found in the quality of the final product and the craft, no matter what the source.
Another important find in the programme was the existence of an institution called ‘The Young Artistes’ Cultural Organisation’, with Lester James Peries as its advisor, and the names of its members, including Aileen Sarachchandra, Sunethra Jagoda’s mother. We also learn that there was a ‘Drama Advisory Board’, of which Professor Sarachchandra was a member, with Cyril Wickramage as the secretary. This high level of support for Dhamma as a member of the Sarachchandra family would have been of great value to him in those early days. Tisse says that Dhamma’s Vesmuhunu was the only play chosen to be performed subsequently, implying a very high standard expected at the National Drama Festival as well. So, the programme provides a clear sense of a fertile theatrical culture, and also how theatrical institutions were created in the 60s to actively encourage daring theatrical experimentation, open to international trends and practices.
Photographic Documentation of Vesmuhunu
From the programme
There are a handful of black and white photographs of all three productions of Vesmuhunu included in the programme. As what I have is a copy of the original which itself is over fifty years old, the quality of the images is very poor but there are sufficient details there to be able to read the images for signs of the kind of interpretations Rukmani and Irangani brought to presenting their versions of the Kandyan lady, Kumari Uduwela. Of course, what one can do with a few unclear photographs is very limited and would remain as conjectures at best. But I feel I can do this because (though credit is not given), it is more than likely that the photos would have been taken by Ralex Ranasinghe who is credited for décor and costumes. The only exception is with the 1966 production, where while he did the Décor, the costumes were designed by the fashion designer Kirthi Sri Karunaratne who acted in the play and also ran a column on fashion in an English-language daily, in which Roma de Zoysa appeared quite often. So, this debut production of Dhamma’s had an unusual social mix as well.
Ralex Ranasinghe, Tony Ranasinghe’s brother, was a professional photographer, and it’s very likely that he took the photographs of all three productions. The wide shot of Roma de Zoysa shows a slender figure in a Kandyan sari with her hair piled on top in a bun.
The only photograph in the programme of Rukmani Devi is an extreme close-up of her face. It’s an art photograph, in which one half of her face is plunged into darkness, while the other half is lit. Furthermore, the face is angled in such a way that her head is slightly bent and she looks up with one eye; a veiled gaze. The expression of that eye is strong, and seductive. It’s the kind of gaze associated with what the French call a femme-fatale, the fatal woman who, according to her mythical attributes, will bring ruin to men through her mysterious sexuality. Rukmani’s dark eye make-up highlights this stylised framing of her face and the suggestion of mystery. She presents a familiar type in Western literature, film and image culture. Hollywood made a special genre of film, the Film Noir, with the femme-fatale as the main attraction and there were stars who were associated with playing that kind of role. Feminist film theorists have researched the long history of this seductive but destructive mythical female archetype, locating her within Western patriarchal narratives, including Eve who tempted Adam with an apple given to her by a devilish snake, leading to their expulsion from Paradise, according to the Bible.
In contrast to this seductive gaze of Rukmani’s, Irangani is shown in full size, smiling openly, dressed in white and dark Kandyan saris, with her hair unusually short falling to her shoulders. Her gestures are theatrically exuberant and outward looking. The feeling she projects is that of a light and airy creature. Though there is one of her looking very serious and troubled, seated at a table with her sister. But one can conjecture that Rukmani presented a dark and mysterious woman, while Irangani was mostly light and airy and fragile in her duplicity. That’s as far as one can go visually analysing and imagining with a few images. But the shot of Sunethra is altogether different, she is the realist figure, contained and constrained in her working-class environment by her husband, and in her role as pregnant wife.
So, the three women have very different characters and functions and acting styles, it would appear. I believe that Ralex Ranasinghe has captured these differences perceptively. Having also done the décor and costumes he would have had a very intimate, subtle knowledge of the texture of the image, materials, light and of the feelings they evoked.
Ralex Ranasinghe, as a professional photographer, had no doubt also seen some of Rukmani Devi’s star portraits of the 50s, at the height of her stardom. There are one or two black & white close-up studio photographs of her as a star, where she does not smile, and her eyes show a dark, languorous, mysterious quality, an eroticism, such as I have not seen in any other Lankan star photograph. In this, she is rather like Ava Gardner, a famous Hollywood femme fatale. I think, the artfully noirish close-up of Rukmani Devi in the program must have been done in a studio, where Ralex Ranasinghe would have been able to control light and shadow with precision, to plunge one half of Rukmani Devi’s face into a dark void. It’s a remarkable and rare film noir image, capturing a rarely seen emotional register, on the face of that incomparable star of the Sinhala cinema. A vesmuhuna like the dark side of the moon, one might say.
Imagine if some curious scholar did unearth the reviews of all the performances, what a treasure trove they would reveal to us about Dhamma Jagoda, Rukmani Devi and Irangani Serasinghe, in their unique visionary and, yes, daring collaboration in Vesmuhunu!
Tennessee Williams’ striking title, A Streetcar Named Desire, was based on an actual street car (bus), in New Orleans, leading to a suburb called Desire.
But ‘A Bus Named Desire’ would have been farcical. The Southern milieu was the racially mixed French quarter with Blues music in the background, heard between scene changes in the first production on Broadway, with Marlon Brando in the main role. Williams mixes the realist title with a poetic register, in the heady mix of sexual violence, class-based powerplay and fantasy.
Dhamma (from the Southern town of Hikkaduwa) would have grown up with a familiarity with masks and ritual performances indigenous to that area. So, when he also chose a poetic title, Vesmuhunu (Masks) for his adaptation, he is playing with many reverberations, including the idea of social masks. In so doing he appears to be able to widen the formal possibilities of realist drama of the ‘lower depths,’ by also presenting ‘social types’, which in their abstraction, are mask-like. For this kind of experimentation, with different types of characterisation and ideas of character, and different registers of acting for each, Dhamma needed experienced actors with great reserves of talent, precise training, a depth of experience, and a desire to take risks, all of which he found in Rukmani Devi and Irangani Serasinghe at the height of their maturity.
It is around this time that Dhamma also produced Dharmasena Pathiraja’s brilliant one act absurdist play, Kora saha Andaya (The Lame man and the Blind) in a sparse, minimalist staging of remarkable intensity. It appears that Dhamma directed this play after he had returned from a research trip to both Britain and the Lee Strasberg Actors’ Studio in New York, to observe different theatrical traditions. Through their collaboration, Pathiraja and Dhamma created two mutually dependent human and social types, a blind man and a lame man. One carrying the other on his shoulder, the other leading the way, binding them into one composite figure, seeking a promised land in an existential void. The long wooden pole which supported them was the only prop, used in unimaginable ways, also to produce sounds on a bare wooden stage, sculpted with light, on which Wimal Kumar de Costa and Daya Pathirana gave unforgettable performances.
Marlon Brando had trained with Lee Strasberg and is credited with inventing a new, understated, internalised kind of masculine acting: Method Acting. It was Brando’s brutish role of Stanley Kowalski that Dhamma played in his own production of Vesmuhunu. One wonders if Dhamma left any research notes on his trip abroad and if he had seen the film of the play with Brando and Vivien Leigh, screened in Colombo in the early 50s. Despite his electrifying and award-winning performance, Dhamma did choose to focus on directing rather than on becoming Lanka’s answer to Marlon Brando.
This was indeed a lucky choice for the development of Lankan theatre. Dhamma’s foresight as an educator, in developing a Drama Curriculum for the schools, was also a major contribution to Lankan theatre.
A forgotten story (part 1)
Colombo High Court Judge Adithya Patabendi, on March 27, 2025, acquitted former ASP Kulasiri Udugampola, who had been indicted over the Kandy police raid on a safe house run by the Directorate of Military Intelligence (DMI) at the Millennium City housing complex, Athurugiriya. The raid, conducted in the first week of January 2002, sent shock waves through the defence establishment. Delivering the judgment, 23 years after the raid, Patabendi declared that the prosecution failed to prove the charges beyond a reasonable doubt.
The Dec. 5, 2001 parliamentary election was conducted at the height of the war in the North. Having gained the upper hand in the battlefield, the LTTE was working on a Ceasefire Agreement with Norway. The country was in turmoil with President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga, who survived an LTTE suicide blast at the final rally of her Dec. 1999 presidential election campaign, struggling to overcome a sustained UNP offensive.
In the run-up to the Dec. 5, 2001 parliamentary polls, UNP leader, Ranil Wickremesinghe accused the Directorate of Military Intelligence (DMI) of planning to assassinate him. The UNPer claimed that the DMI was training Tamil terrorists at the Panaluwa Army Testing Range to mount an attack on his campaign bus, as well as his political rallies.
The unprecedented accusation placed the war-weary Army in an extremely embarrassing position when it was actually turning tables on the enemy using its own tactics in areas considered by then as being off limits for security forces. The UNP, with no shame, brazenly exploited the made-up threat as the main Opposition party and its allies, including a treacherous section of the media, stepped-up pressure on the Army to no end.
On the instructions of Wickremesinghe, UNP Chairman Charitha Ratwatte and Deputy Chairman Daya Palpola wrote a hard-hitting letter to Army Commander, Lt. Gen. Lionel Balagalle warning that he would be held responsible ‘in the event of an unfortunate incident’. The UNP duo accused the Army chief of training personnel to engage in a destabilisation campaign against the UNP.
An irate Army Commander, Lt. Gen. Balagalle in reply addressed a letter to Ratwatte and Palpola dismissing their accusations. The Island, in a front-page exclusive headlined ‘Army chief says no truth in UNP claims,’ in its Nov, 11, 2001 edition that revealed the exchange between Army headquarters and Sirikotha.
The report was based on what Lt. Gen. Balagalle had told this writer the previous evening. The Army chief, himself a one-time head of the Directorate of Military Intelligence (DMI), said that there was absolutely no basis for the UNP allegation that a hit squad was undergoing training in the use of high explosives and thermobaric weapons to attack Wickremesinghe.
The UNP ignored the Army chief’s letter. The allegation was repeated throughout the campaign. The raid on the DMI safe-house should be examined against the backdrop of the exchange between the Army commander and Sirikotha.
It was somewhat reminiscent of the JVP tactic to tarnish all others who had ruled the country since independence as being A Grade crooks to come to power with a record majority they couldn’t have even dreamt of knowing their sordid past. The trick was to repeat a lie long enough with the help of Western funded international and local NGO quislings and the gullible masses believed it.
Amidst a furore over the UNP allegation that the Army conspired to assassinate Wickremesinghe, Army operatives blew up a truck behind enemy lines killing five LTTE cadres on Dec. 11, 2001. Then again, they destroyed an LTTE bunker, at the entrance to a base used by Karuna, in the Kokkadicholai area, on Dec. 21, 2001.
Although the Army had conducted a successful small group operation in the Batticaloa District, targeting a key LTTE operative identified as David, way back in 1992, there was no attempt on the part of the military to develop the capability further. But some officers had been keen to promote small group operations to weaken the LTTE and beat it at its own game.
Commenting on the elimination of David, a veteran in clandestine operations told the writer of the deep penetrations ops: “Three personnel took part in the targeted killing of David. They returned to base after achieving the given task. Such operations caused chaos in enemy territory which gave us the psychological advantage over them. We knew of the importance as well as the need to strike within the enemy-controlled areas, though a special strategy on clandestine operations was adopted only in 2001, almost a decade after the hit on David.”
Speaking on condition of anonymity, the soft-spoken official explained the circumstances under which the Army launched deep penetration units soon after one-time Director of the DMI Lionel Balagalle had been appointed Commander of the Army.
Balagalle couldn’t resist the temptation to explore the possibility of infiltrating areas outside government controlled regions to launch attacks. “It was a tremendous task. Those who volunteered to join the operation realised the risks they were taking. They were among the best and they courageously adopted the new doctrine, which enabled us to carry out targeted killings. It was nothing but a high risk operation, though it produced results. They had to curtail their movements, particularly in the Eastern Province, where we used Batticaloa as the centre of our operations.”
Then Brigadier Kapila Hendarawithana executed the operation in his capacity as Director of DMI.
The LTTE realised the danger. Within months after the launch of the first DMI raid in the Batticaloa District, the LTTE pushed for the suspension of the DMI operation. The February 23, 2002 Ceasefire Agreement (CFA), arranged by the Norwegians, included a clause which specifically dealt with DMI action. The CFA called for the suspension of operations behind LTTE lines. While the LTTE had been successful in its negotiations with the Norwegians and the then inept UNP government with Executive President Chandrika Kumaratunga reduced to more or less a figurehead, the DMI suffered a debilitating setback when that regime with hardly any feelings for our valiant fighting men risking their lives day and night, ordered a police raid on an Army safe-house used by a deep penetration team at Athurugiriya.
The UNP-led United National Front (UNF) emerged victorious at the Dec. 5, 2001 general election with 109 seats, while the defeated PA managed to secure 77 seats. The remaining seats were shared by the JVP (16), the TNA (15), the SLMC (5), the EPDP (2) and the DPLF (01).
Balgalle on ops behind enemy lines
It had been one of the bloodiest elections with the five-week campaign claiming the lives of almost 50 people, with the polls day massacre of a group of SLMC supporters at Udathalawinna being the single worst incident. This massacre carried out by troops attached to the Vijayaba Infantry Regiment (VIR) who had been brought to Kandy at the behest of de facto Defence Minister Anuruddha Ratwatte was used as an excuse by a vindictive UNP leadership to order the raid on the safe house used by the DMI situated at Millennium City, Athurugiriya, on Jan. 2, 2002, which changed the course of the conflict. The UNF cited intelligence reports that Anuruddha Ratwatte’s sons, wanted in connection with the Udathalawinna massacre, were taking refuge at Athurugiriya.
Had the UNP leadership been a little cautious, it would never have publicly accused the Army of an assassination plot. Lt. Gen. Balagalle discussed the issues at hand with the writer. Operating hit squads behind enemy lines had been a key element in the Army’s strategy to give it a taste of its own medicine, the Army chief said at that time, alleging the then Opposition had failed to grasp what was going on. The Island quoted Lt. Gen. Balagalle as having said: “Had they quietly raised the issue with us and sought a clarification without playing politics with national security, the Athurugiriya fiasco could have been averted. Even ex-LTTE cadres were brought in for operations along with valuable input from civilian informants. We were successful due to many reasons such as training from Pakistani instructors. We also accommodated troops from other fighting battalions to engage in operations behind enemy lines, though the Special Forces and Army Commandos spearheaded the campaign.”
At the time troops had been undergoing training in Pakistan, Balagalle functioned as Security Forces Commander, Jaffna.
The Athurugiriya raid ruptured relations between the UNP and the Army. It caused irreparable damage to national security. At the behest of the UNP, a section of the media, including the Colombo-based correspondents working for international news agencies, highlighted the Athurugiriya raid speculating the Army’s alleged involvement in anti-government activities. Investigating officers alleged that those who had been based at Athurugiriya were involved in the alleged attempt to assassinate Wickremesinghe. Subsequently, the DMI was accused of planning attacks in the city and its suburbs to sabotage the Norwegian-led peace process.
The UNP allegations had the desired impact in the wake of state television showing recovered items, which included 66 sets of LTTE uniforms, four thermobaric weapons, seven claymore mines each weighing 10 kgs, 10 claymore mines, each weighing one kg each, three T-56 assault rifles along with 400 rounds of ammunition, 10 anti-tank weapons, detonators, cyanide capsules, exploders, remote controlled devices and wire rolls.
While a section of the media lashed out at the Army, in a front-page exclusive headlined ‘Controversy over police raid on army officers Millennium City residence,’ on Jan 4, 2002, The Island revealed that a police team from Kandy, led by die-hard UNP loyalist, Kulasiri Udugampola, had raided an Army safe house. The raid also involved a team of CCMP (Ceylon Corps of Military Police).
In spite of both Lt. Gen. Balagalle and the then Director of DMI, Brigadier Kapila Hendawitharana (later served as Chief of National Intelligence, before quitting in 2015) reassuring the government of the legitimacy of operations undertaken by the DMI, the police was let loose on covert operatives. Regardless of Balagalle rushing Hendarawithana, who later figured in many controversies to the scene, Udugampola went ahead with the raid. The police had obtained permission from courts to search the premises.
Udugampola had the backing of the then Interior Minister, John Amaratunga. IGP Lucky Kodituwakku, though being convinced of the legitimacy of the DMI operation, couldn’t do anything. He was helpless.
Army takes firm stand
The Kandy police raided the safe house shortly after the officer-in-charge of the DMI operation had handed over part of their arsenal. Those involved in the hit-and-run operations in LTTE held-areas had returned to Colombo on Dec. 27, 2001, in the wake of the Wickremesinghe administration declaring its readiness to go ahead with a Norwegian initiative to sign a one-sided CFA clearly favourable to the LTTE. The Kandy police also accused the Army of planting two claymore mines targeting a UNP candidate along the Wattegama-Panwila road, in the run-up to the Dec. 5, 2001 polls.
The then security forces spokesman, Brig. Sanath Karunaratne emphasised that those who operated from Athurugiriya were involved in ‘Army duties’ (The Island Jan. 4, 2002). Regardless of protests by the Army, those arrested were taken away to the Narahenpita CMP headquarters before being transferred to Kandy. They were treated like criminals and held under humiliating conditions. Six of them, including an officer, were held in one room. For two weeks, the media reported all sorts of conspiracy theories.
Let me stress that the Athurugiriya betrayal, in a way divided the Army. An influential section of the Army obviously cooperated with the conspirators.
Those who had been arrested were held for almost two weeks before being granted bail. The police raid would never have been possible without an influential section within the Army cooperating with the political establishment to undermine a vital operation, which brought the LTTE under immense pressure.
The UNP and the police justified Udugampola’s raid. Asked whether he had used the safe house to accommodate his sons, one-time Defence chief, Anuruddha Ratwatte, candidly acknowledged that he hadn’t been among those who knew of the existence of that particular rear base, though the Army kept him informed of operations undertaken by the DMI. (Feb. 1 issue of The Island, 2002)
Marapana to the rescue
Then Defence Minister, Tilak Marapana, a one-time Attorney General, to his credit did not play politics with such an important issue and thwarted an attempt by the Kandy police to prolong the detention of DMI operatives using the provisions of the PTA to please their then political masters in the UNP. The bid to neutralize the DMI was made ahead of the signing of the CFA. The Wickremesinghe administration didn’t even bother to consult the armed forces and police top brass regarding the provisions of the agreement. Then Navy Commander, Vice Admiral Daya Sandagiri told the Lessons Learnt and Reconciliation Commission (LLRC) how then Defence Secretary, Austin Fernando, had bypassed them with regard to sensitive military issues.
Fernando, in an article captioned ‘The Peace Process and Security Issues’ (Negotiating Peace in Sri Lanka: Efforts, Failures and Lessons) admitted that the refusal on the part of the then government to consult the military had been a failure. Fernando said (page 42): “The military chiefs weren’t consulted in the drafting of the CFA. Of course, a casual opportunity was given to them to discuss the draft with Ministers of Defence (Tilak Marapana) and Constitutional Affairs (Prof. G.L. Peiris). This wasn’t considered adequate by them as they didn’t get an opportunity to discuss the CFA with their senior officers”.
The CFA declared that ACTIVITIES BY DEEP PENETRATION UNITS should be ceased along with the cessation of all military action. The LTTE wouldn’t have demanded a ban on DMI operations unless the group acknowledged the growing threat posed by DMI. The LTTE had been vulnerable to those hunting them in their own backyard. Obviously, the LTTE wouldn’t have bothered about the DMI had the latter been stalking Wickremesinghe in the run-up to the Dec. 2001 polls.
Retired Senior DIG Merril Gunaratne, who had been Defence Advisor to Wickremesinghe during the CFA, exposed the UNP leadership in his ‘COP IN THE CROSSFIRE.’ The first book of its kind, written by one-time Director General of Intelligence, revealed how the top UNP leadership took security issues lightly at the expense of the country as well as the party. Asked whether he had been involved in the operation to move the Kandy police against the DMI, Gunaratne told the writer at that time he categorically opposed the move. “I was convinced the PA government wouldn’t target Wickremesinghe, thereby allowing the UNP to benefit from the sympathy vote. Unfortunately, Wickremesinghe and his top advisors felt the Army was hell bent on destroying the UNP.”
Ex-LTTE’s among the slain
The Athurugiriya raid had a catastrophic impact on the armed forces, which experienced untold hardships due to miscalculations on the part of political and military leaders. Following the betrayal of the DMI, the LTTE unleashed a series of operations in the city, its suburbs and in the Eastern Province. Altogether, over 50 military personnel, Tamil informants as well as ex-LTTE cadres working for the Army, died at the hands of the LTTE as their identities were revealed owing to the raid on the army safe house. Wijayanadan Widyatharan, alias Vidya, of Sea Road, Navakkudah, was the first operative killed by the LTTE after exposure of the Athurugiriya operation. Vaidya was abducted on January 20, 2002, over two weeks after the raid.
The dead included two senior military officers, both killed in Colombo. Although the two military officials, holding the rank of Major and Colonel could have been on a hit list, regardless of the Athurugiriya fiasco, the LTTE exploited the situation to demoralise the Army. Daring operations directed at the DMI and police intelligence helped boost the LTTE’s image. The military was placed in an unenviable position as the suspension of the PTA effectively neutralised counter-measures directed at LTTE hit squads.
Inspector Dale Gunaratne, the then President of the Police Inspectors’ Association, was perhaps the only law enforcement officer publicly critical of the UNP’s response to the LTTE threat. (Having retired years ago, Gunaratne now serves as an Attorney-at-Law) Although his superiors reacted angrily, Gunaratne lashed out at the government for allowing the LTTE to exploit the CFA to its advantage. Citing the killing of Inspector Thabrew at the Dehiwela Police Station, in July 2003, IP Gunaratne alleged that the suspension of the PTA in keeping with the CFA was nothing but a grievous threat to those fighting terrorism. He kept on lambasting the UNP and his own superiors for not taking action to neutralise the LTTE threat. But the UNP was determined to salvage the crumbling peace process at any cost. For those at the helm of the government, the lives of security forces and police didn’t matter, as long as they believed the LTTE would remain in the negotiating process. Politicians felt whatever the provocations, the peace process should continue.
By Shamindra Ferdinando
Survivors of the South-East Asian tragedy,
Triggered by nature’s stern promptings,
Somehow reining-in suffocating sorrow,
Are leaving no unhinged stone unturned,
To salvage the remains of those held dear,
In fresh testimony of love’s staying power,
But it speaks well for the untouched majority,
That unstinted succor is pouring in,
To render some solace to the hapless,
Although no amount of fellow feeling,
Could make up for the wrenching sorrow,
Of parting from a priceless presence.
By Lynn Ockersz
Former President Ranil Wickremesinghe’s recent combative ‘Head-to-Head’ interview with British-American Mehdi Hasan on Al Jazeera has opened a can of worms. As to why Hasan raised the Batalanda Presidential Commission report, during a 49-minute interview conducted at the London’s Conway Hall, with a clearly pro LTTE audience, remains a mystery. This must be yet another notorious way to show how even-handed they are as in the case of its coverage of Russia, China, Palestine or Ukraine for their gullible viewers.
Recorded in February and aired in March 2025, the interview is definitely the most controversial the UNP leader, who is also an Attorney-at-Law, ever faced during his political career; always used to getting kid glove treatment, especially after taking over the party in 1994.
The continuing public discourse on Batalanda should provoke a wider discussion on Sri Lanka’s response to separatist Tamil terrorism, since the cold blooded murder of Jaffna SLFP Mayor Alfred Duriappah, which signalled the beginning of the LTTE terror campaign that ended in May 2009 with the crushing military defeat of the Tigers on the banks of the Nathikadal lagoon, as well as two southern insurgencies in 1971 and 1987-1990.
As Nandana Gunatilleke (one time JVP General Secretary and ex-MP), Dr. Wasantha Bandara (ex-JVPer and close associate of the slain JVP leader Rohana Wijeweera), Indrananda de Silva (ex-JVPer, incumbent Central Committee member of Frontline Socialist Party [FSP] and ex-military photographer) and Uvindu Wijeweera (Rohana Wijeweera’s son and leader of Dewana Parapura) agreed during the recent Hiru ‘Balaya’ discussion, conducted by Madushan de Silva, the Batalanda operation was in line with the overall counter-terrorist/insurgency strategy of the then government.
The issues at hand cannot be discussed at all without taking into consideration the JVP terrorism that, at one-time, almost overwhelmed the UNP’s unbroken rule, since 1977, carried out while openly brushing aside most of the universally accepted genuine parliamentary norms. The country’s second Republican constitution, promulgated by the UNP regime with a 5/6 majority in Parliament, in 1978, had been amended no less than 13 times by the time they were finally ousted in 1995. This was mainly to facilitate their continuous rule. Unfortunately, all stakeholders have sought to take advantage of Batalanda, thereby preventing a proper dialogue. Quite surprisingly, none of the guests, nor the interviewer, bothered, at least, to make a reference to the JVP bid on President J.R. Jayewardene’s life in Parliament on the morning of July 18, 1987. At the time, JVPer Ajith Kumara, working in the House as a minor employee, hurled two hand grenades towards JRJ, with the then Prime Minister Ranasinghe Premadasa seated next to JRJ. While one government MP lost his life, several others suffered injuries, including then National Security Minister Lalith Athulathmudali, whose spleen had to be removed.
At one point, Gunatilleke declared that they assassinated UNP MP for Tangalle Jinadasa Weerasinghe on July 3, 1987, in response to the government killing well over 100 people, in Colombo, protesting against the signing of the Indo-Lanka accord on July 29, 1987. The parliamentarian was killed near the Barawakumbuka-Welangahawela bridge on the Colombo-Rathnapura-Embilipitiya Road. The UNPer was killed on his way home after having declined Premier Premadasa’s offer to make an SLAF chopper available for him to reach home safely.
Against the backdrop of MP Weerasinghe’s assassination and the grenade attack on the UNP parliamentary group that claimed the life of Keethi Abeywickrema (MP for Deniyaya), the government had no option but to respond likewise. The operation, established at the Batalanda Housing scheme of the State Fertiliser Corporation, constituted part of the counter-insurgency strategy pursued by the UNP.
Those who called Batalanda complex Batalanda torture camp/ wadakagaraya conveniently forgot during the second JVP inspired insurgency, the military had to utilize many public buildings, including schools, as makeshift accommodation for troops. Of course the UNP established Batalanda under different circumstances with the then Industries Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe providing political authority. Batalanda had been an exclusive police operation though the Army had access to it whenever a requirement arose.
Those who had been suddenly withdrawn from the Northern and Eastern Provinces, to meet the rapidly evolving security threat in the South, required accommodation. FSP CC member Indrananada de Silva had received unhindered access to Batalanda in his capacity as a military photographer and the rest is history.
As to why Indrananda de Silva switched his allegiance to the FSP should be examined, taking into consideration his previous role as a trusted military photographer, formerly a Lance Corporal of the Military Police. An influential section of the JVP, led by Kumar Gunaratnam, formed the FSP in April 2012 though it didn’t receive the much anticipated public support. Both Indrananda de Silva and Nandana Gunatilleke, who aligned himself with the UNP, found fault with the JVP-led National People’s Power (NPP) over its handling of the Batalanada issue.
Paramilitary operations
Paramilitary operations had been an integral part of the overall counter-insurgency campaign, directed at the JVP responsible for approximately 6,600 killings. Among those death squads were PRRA primarily drawn from the SLMP (Sri Lanka Mahajana Party) and SRRA (the socialist Revolutionary Red Army). PRRA had close links with the Independent Student Union (ISU) whose leader Daya Pathirana was slain by the JVP. The vast majority of people do not remember that Daya Pathirana, who led the ISU during the turbulent 1985-1986 period, was killed mid-Dec. 1989. The second insurgency hadn’t started at that time though the JVP propagated the lie that they took up arms against the UNP government following the signing of the Indo-Lanka peace accord on July 29, 1987.
In addition to PRRA and SRRA, the government made use of paramilitary groups, namely Kalu balallu, Ukkusso, Rajaliyo, Kaha balallu, Kola koti, Rathu Makaru, Mapila, Gonussa, Nee, Keshara Sinhayo, Le-mappillu and Kalu koti.
The UNP also involved some elements of Indian trained Tamil groups (not of the LTTE) in paramilitary operations. Such operations, that had been backed by respective Cabinet Ministers, were supervised by local law enforcement authorities. Paramilitary operations had been in line with psychological warfare that was meant to cause fear among the JVP, as well as the general population. Military operations that had been combined with paramilitary actions received the blessings of the political leadership at the highest level. In the case of Batalanda (1988-1990) President J.R. Jayewardene and Ranasinghe Premadasa knew of its existence.
Even after the eradication of the top JVP leadership, by Nov. 1989, police, military and paramilitary operations continued unabated. Former JVPers appearing on ‘Balaya’ agreed that counter-insurgency operations were actually brought to an end only after D.B. Wijetunga succeeded President Ranasinghe Premadasa after the latter’s assassination on May Day 1993.
After the LTTE resumed war in June 1990, just a couple of months after the withdrawal of the Indian Army (July 1987-March1990), the UNP authorized paramilitary operations in the northern and eastern areas. Members of TELO, PLOTE, EPRLF as well as EPDP were made part of the overall government security strategy. They operated in large groups. Some paramilitary units were deployed in the Jaffna islands as well. And these groups were represented in Parliament. They enjoyed privileged status not only in the northern and eastern regions but Colombo as well. The government allowed them to carry weapons in the city and its suburbs.
These groups operated armed units in Colombo. The writer had the opportunity to visit EPDP and PLOTE safe houses in Colombo and its suburbs soon after they reached an understanding with President Ranasinghe Premadasa. Overnight at the behest of President Premadasa, the Election Department granted these Tamil groups political recognition. In other words, armed groups were made political parties. The Premadasa government accepted their right to carry weapons while being represented in Parliament.
It would be pertinent to mention that thousands of Tamil paramilitary personnel served the government during that period. There had been many confrontations between them and the LTTE over the years and the latter sought to eliminate key paramilitary personnel. Let me remind you of the circumstances, the EPRLF’s number 02 Thambirajah Subathiran alias Robert was sniped to death in June 2003. Robert was engaged in routine morning exercises on the top floor of the two-storeyed EPRLF office, on the hospital road, Jaffna, when an LTTE sniper took him out from the nearby Vembadi Girls’ high school. The operation of the Norway managed Ceasefire Agreement (CFA) made no difference as the LTTE removed Robert who led the party here in the absence of leader Varatharaja Perumal, the first and the only Chief Minister of the North-Eastern Province.
In terms of the CFA that had been signed by Premier Ranil Wickremesinghe and LTTE leader Velupillai Prabhakaran, in Feb. 2002, the government agreed to disarm all paramilitary personnel. Many wouldn’t remember now that during Premadasa’s honeymoon with the LTTE, the Army facilitated the LTTE onslaught on paramilitary groups in selected areas.
Muthaliff’s role
During the ‘Balaya’ discussion, the contentious issue of who shot JVP leader Rohana Wijeweera came up. Nandana Gunatilleke, who contested the 1999 Dec. presidential election. as the JVP candidate, pointing to an article carried in the party organ that dealt with Wijeweera’s assassination said that he wrongly named Gaffoor as one of the persons who shot their leader whereas the actual shooter was Muthaliff. The headline named Thoradeniya and Gaffoor as the perpetrators.
Declaring that he personally wrote that article on the basis of information provided by Indrananda de Silva, Gunatilleke named Asoka Thoradeniya and Tuan Nizam Muthaliff of the Army as the perpetrators of the crime. Thoradeniya served as Sri Lanka’s High Commissioner in the Maldives during the Yahapalana administration, while Muthaliff was killed by the LTTE in Colombo in late May 2005. The shooting took place at Polhengoda junction, Narahenpita. Muthaliff was on his way from Manning town, Narahenpita, to the Kotelawala Defence University.
The programme was told that the JVP had over the years developed close relationship with Thoradeniya while Indrananda de Silva accused Dr. Wasantha Bandara of duplicity regarding Muthaliff. How could you recognize Muthaliff, slain by the LTTE, as a war hero as he was actually one of the persons who shot Rohana Wijeweera, the latter asked.
At the time of his assassination, Muthaliff served as the Commanding Officer, 1 st Regiment Sri Lanka Military Intelligence Corps. The then parliamentarian Wimal Weerawansa was among those who paid last respects to Maj. Muthaliff.
At the time of Rohana Wijeweera’s arrest, Muthaliff served as Lieutenant while Thoradeniya was a Major. Indrananda de Silva strongly stressed that atrocities perpetrated by the police and military in the South or in the northern and eastern regions must be dealt with regardless of whom they were conducting operations against. The former JVPer recalled the Army massacre in the east in retaliation for the landmine blast that claimed the lives of Northern Commander Maj. Gen. Denzil Kobbekaduwa and a group of senior officers, including Brigadier Wijaya Wimalaratne, in early Aug. 1990 in Kayts.
Dr. Wasantha Bandara warned of the Western powers taking advantage of what he called false narrative to push for a Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
It would be pertinent to mention that the LTTE also used the underworld as well as some corrupt Army personnel in planning high profile assassinations. Investigations into the assassination of Muthaliff, as well as Maj. Gen. Parami Kulatunga, killed in a suicide attack at Pannipitiya, in June 2006, revealed the direct involvement of military personnel with the LTTE.
Indrananda de Silva disclosed that soon after Anura Kumara Dissanayake won the presidential election last September, the FSP, in writing, requested the JVP leader to inquire into killings during that period, including that of Rohana Wijeweera. The FSPer alleged that President Dissanayake refrained from even acknowledging their letter. Indrananda de Silva emphasized that Al Jazeera never disclosed anything new as regards Batalanda as he exposed the truth years ago. The former JVPer ridiculed the ruling party tabling the Batalanda Commission report in the wake of Wickremesinghe’s Al Jazeera interview whereas the matter was in the public domain for quite some time.
Indrananda de Silva and Nandana Gunatilleke exchanged words over the latter’s declaration that the JVP, too, was subjected to investigation for violence unleashed during the 1987-1990 period. While the FSPer repeatedly declared that those who carried out directives issued by the party were arrested and in some cases killed, Nandana Gunatilleke took up the position that the party should be held accountable for crimes perpetrated during that period.
The interviewer posed Nandana Gunatilleke the question whether he was betraying his former comrades after joining the UNP. Nandana Gunatilleke shot back that he joined the UNP in 2015 whereas the JVP joined UNP as far back as 2009 to promote retired Army Chef Sarath Fonseka’s presidential ambition even though he wiped out the JVP presence in Trincomalee region during the second insurgency.
JVP’s accountability
Nandana Gunatilleke is adamant that the party should accept responsibility for the killings carried out at that time. The former JVPer declared that Vijaya Kumaratunga (Feb. 16, 1988), first Vice Chancellor of the Colombo University (March 08, 1989) Dr. Stanley Wijesundera, Ven. Kotikawatte Saddhatissa thera (Aug. 03, 1988) and Chairperson of the State Pharmaceutical Corporation Gladys Jayewardene (Sept. 12, 1989) were among those assassinated by the JVP. SPC Chairperson was killed for importing medicine from India, the former Marxist aligned with the UNP said, while actor-turned-politician Kumaratunga’s assassination was attributed to his dealings with President J.R. Jayewardene.
According to Nandana Gunatilleke, except for a few killings such as General Secretaries of the UNP Harsha Abeywickrema (Dec 23, 1987) and Nandalal Fernando (May 20, 1988), the vast majority of others were ordinary people like grama sevakas killed on mere accusation of being informants. The deaths were ordered on the basis of hearsay, Nandana Gunatilleke said, much to the embarrassment of others who represented the interest of the JVP at that time.
One quite extraordinary moment during the ‘Balaya’ programme was when Nandana Gunatilleke revealed their (JVP’s) direct contact with the Indian High Commission at a time the JVP publicly took an extremely anti-Indian stance. In fact, the JVP propagated a strong anti-Indian line during the insurgency. Turning towards Dr. Wasantha Bandara, Gunatilleke disclosed that both of them had been part of the dialogue with the Indian High Commission.
It reminds me of the late Somawansa Amarasinghe’s first public address delivered at a JVP rally in late Nov. 2001 after returning home from 12 years of self-imposed exile. Of the top JVP leadership, Somawansa Amarasinghe, who had been married to a close relative of powerful UNP Minister Sirisena Cooray, was the only one to survive combined police/military/paramilitary operations.
Amarasinghe didn’t mince his words when he declared at a Kalutara rally that his life was saved by Indian Premier V.P. Singh. Soft spoken Amarasinghe profusely thanked India for saving his life. Unfortunately, those who discuss issues at hand conveniently forget crucial information in the public domain. Such lapses can be both deliberate and due to negligence.
By Shamindra Ferdinando
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