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Discovering Ehelepola’s tomb in Mauritius

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by Capt. Elmo Jayawardena

The SIA jumbo turned for the final approach on Plaisance International Airport. The night was cloudy and listless, the sky was demanding with a stratocumulus overcast. There was moderate rain over the airfield. My copilot who was flying the aeroplane was an experienced operator and he landed the big Boeing 747 with professional skill that received applause from the passengers.

We taxied and parked in front of the terminal. It was almost midnight; I’ve arrived in the island of Mauritius, not merely as a pilot but to start another one of my wild goose chases.This one was a peach. I was going to look for Ehelepola’s grave. The first Prime Minister of the last King of Kandy, who I read somewhere, was buried in the island of Mauritius.

The story of Ehelepola is a tragedy that Lankans are familiar with. King Sri Wickrema Rajasinghe beheaded the sons and ordered the mother to kill the baby in a mortar by pounding the infant with a pestle. He then drowned Kumarihamy in the Bogambara Lake. All this was done in retaliation to Ehelepola joining the British against the King.

I am no scholar nor historian, just a very ordinary aeroplane driver, or perhaps may be a wild goose chase man. Hence I’ll leave the historical details to those who know better and get on with my chase.The only knowledge I had was that the grave was in a place called Pamplemousse. I thought that Pamplemousse was a place like our Kanatte cemetery and all I needed was to walk around and find the grave. A simple enough task for a lazy morning.

The little conversation I had with the hotel staff convinced me that the search was not going to be easy. My idea of looking for a grave in Pamplemousse was instantly laughed into extinction by the receptionist. Pamplemousse was an area bigger than Colombo, and it had so many cemeteries, and nobody ever heard anything about any Ehelepola, let alone where he was buried. Now things were getting a bit complicated, and I love complications.

Out through the door, into the first taxi and “take me to Pamplemousse” I said to the driver who came out of a yawn. We had the usual bargain for the price, which is more traditional than a necessity, and I let him win. His Cambric shirt and coral bead necklace gave him a left over “flower child” look and the way he crashed his gears and shot out of the palm lined driveway left me in no doubt that I had found my Man Friday to chase rainbows.It was a bright morning, a typical Southern Hemispheric Spring with an Azure blue African Sky. One must have something to do; even if it is something totally stupid like looking for a long forgotten grave in a totally unknown place called Pamplemousse.

Mauritius is a beautiful place especially in the mornings. The air is crisp and clean and the wind has a gentle blowing, the kind that soothes the soul. Pamplemousse was an hour away and I settled to enjoy the scenic pleasantness of the passing landscape and the limited conversation of the driver, who spoke halting English. He of course was totally clueless about cemeteries and Ehelepolas.

Off we went, the minor Fangio flower-child and me – he with his Great Gatsby cap, Walrus moustache, perhaps with thoughts wondering who this passenger fool was, and me in silent contemplation with my hopes on graves hitting cloud nine. Shortly after 10 a.m. we reached Pamplemousse. A cup of tea in a little café, and inquiries as to where the nearest cemetery was and off we went, the driver and I. By now he was my co-wild goose chaser, he voluntarily joined the idiot team, first as a driver, then as an interpreter and quickly got promoted to comrade moonbeam catcher.

The first cemetery was five minutes away. I was out of the car in a flash and walking in the paths between the dead and buried, looking for Ehelepola. Most names were French and it didn’t take me long to traverse the length and breadth and eliminate this cemetery from my agenda. Back to the car, a little conversation with some cemetery visitors (by now my driver was doing yeoman service in the translations) and off we went to cemetery number two, in a place called Pamplemousse alias wild goose country.

The day wore on, and the cemetery numbers were fast approaching the two digits. I was going on without any concession to sanity. The grave searching keenness in my partner was slowly dwindling down and becoming contagious. The sun was up and was beating the hell out of our enthusiasm. Cluelessly walking among the dead, searching for something not even knowing what I am searching definitely added its weightage to the hopelessness of the situation. By now my soul partner had concluded that I had butterflies in my brain box and was content to let me do the walking and watch from the limited comfort of his Morris Oxford.

Only the stubbornness in me kept me going or rather the mule in me. Mule sounds better than donkey – one must take certain liberties of elevation when referring to oneself. A lot of tea, a lot of cafes, a lot of inquiries and a lot of cemeteries later, I gave up. My partner was delighted, and I was, well what can I say, I guess I was disappointed. It was past four o’clock and we had done about six hours of cemetery trudging. I had a flight to operate at two a.m. and it was time to go back to the hotel and get some sleep.

We drove back along another road through the jungle, tall trees and scrub bush. We almost missed it, yet the Gods were kind (They have been known to shed sympathy on clueless clowns like me) and I saw…no I felt…or was it premonition I don’t know, it happened so fast, the next thing I knew I was screaming at the driver to stop.

The monument was there, by the roadside, a little into the jungle, white and serene and standing by itself amidst the tall trees that stood like sentinels. This was a totally isolated place, in the middle of nowhere, a place called Power Mill Forest, Marcellemet, St. Andre, Pamplemousse. I have come to the grave of Ehelepola Wijesoondra Wickramasinghe Chandrasekara Amerakoon Wasala Modianse late First Adikar or Prime Minister to the King of Kandy. The death of death is given as April 24 and not April 4 as in English.

This is the Sinhala version of the legend on the monument.  This  is written with a stone of some kind. I logically deduce it was done by Ihagama Thera who was a leader of the 1817 revolt and was banished to Mauritius.

(See the book The Last Kingdom of Sinhale by the author for more details)

It was approximately a ten-foot square memorial, clean and beautiful. It had a majesty matched by a sadness. That is the way I felt. It was obvious somebody had cleaned and cared for the monument.

The whiteness gleamed in the shadows of the tall trees. The lettering was clear, one side in English and other side, in my very beloved Sinhalese. I read the epitaph in my own language and felt a strangeness that I find hard to explain. The man, the tragedy, the history, the Sinhalese words in a jungle in a far away land all combined, gave emotions that I normally do not experience.

The strangest of all was a wreath of flowers, dead and withered that lay on the white pedestal. Somebody else did come by this place and not so long ago. Perhaps a week or ten days the most. He or she was no stranger like me. This was someone who took the trouble of cleaning the grave. Someone who carried flowers and laid them for a man who died 165 years ago. Even in this far away land and remote place, someone had cared to remember.

History and folklore branded him a traitor. Yet the truth could be so very different. The English banished him to Mauritius. The English governed our destiny and wrote our history. A century and a half later, it is difficult for us to know what really the truth was. We have no intimate knowledge of the man or the events. We do not understand the reasons, the fears, the actions and the emotions that took place so long ago. We cannot presume and we should not judge.

To us, Ehelepola must not be the traitor nor the hero, but a man, who lived life with moments as bitter as a man could remember. A human being who must surely have suffered at the tragic and gruesome death of his beloved wife and children and grieved at having been banished from his home country by a power that is alien to be buried in a foreign land, not under the soft comforting earth of his beloved Lanka.

I stood before the monument with mixed feelings. Here was a man who was born to a heritage. Noble in birth equaled to the common and unknown in his death and buried in a strange land so far away from his loved ones and beloved homeland.I spent a few moments in contemplation and walked away – making a solemn promise to the man buried in this forsaken corner of the earth that I will bring his story to his country and his own people.

That night I took off from Mauritius to Singapore. A pleasant night to start a ten-hour sector. It had the peculiar beauty of an African night that appeals to aviators. Cool and clear, with a light wind as added flavour. The heavy jet roared down the limited runway and eased into a sky that was beautiful. Somebody had lavishly switched on the whole Milkyway and overhead a million tiny stars twinkled and splashed in a velvet blue midnight sky.

I sat there in the dimly lit flight deck lulled by the big jet engines thinking of the day and the events I left behind. I had come to find a grave, merely as a fancy, but I had found much more. I had found part of history, a tragic part of history that told the tale of a man accused and judged by society, long forgotten by his people buried in isolation in a scrub jungle in a place called Pamplemousse. Yet someone remembered and that someone cared, because the flowers on this grave were most certainly not the work of sympathetic angels.

My mind kept wandering back to the withered wreath of flowers. I set course and settled for the long night, and as I lost sight of Mauritius under the blanket of stars, I kept wondering who the flower bearing angel was, and would have given anything to know why the remembrance after so long.

Editor’s note: I was delighted to run this article in the Daily News where I was editor over two decades ago. Meeting the writer at his idyllic Moratuwa home a few days ago, he told me that President JR Jayewardene had called him when it first appeared and said he had enjoyed it very much, He offered Capt. Elmo the use of his library if he planned any more historical articles. Then living in Singapore, he had the call from Colombo saying the president wished to speak to him. He found it was no practical joke as he initially suspected. Elmo added that since he first wrote the story, he had learned that there were many Lankan garment workers in Mauritius and wondered whether one of them was responsible for the flowers on the tomb.



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A plural society requires plural governance

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The local government elections that took place last week saw a consolidation of the democratic system in the country.  The government followed the rules of elections to a greater extent than its recent predecessors some of whom continue to be active on the political stage.  Particularly noteworthy was the absence of the large-scale abuse of state resources, both media and financial, which had become normalised under successive governments in the past four decades.  Reports by independent election monitoring organisations made mention of this improvement in the country’s democratic culture.

In a world where democracy is under siege even in long-established democracies, Sri Lanka’s improvement in electoral integrity is cause for optimism. It also offers a reminder that democracy is always a work in progress, ever vulnerable to erosion and needs to be constantly fought for. The strengthening of faith in democracy as a result of these elections is encouraging.  The satisfaction expressed by the political parties that contested the elections is a sign that democracy in Sri Lanka is strong.  Most of them saw some improvement in their positions from which they took reassurance about their respective futures.

The local government elections also confirmed that the NPP and its core comprising the JVP are no longer at the fringes of the polity.  The NPP has established itself as a mainstream party with an all-island presence, and remarkably so to a greater extent than any other political party.  This was seen at the general elections, where the NPP won a majority of seats in 21 of the country’s 22 electoral districts. This was a feat no other political party has ever done. This is also a success that is challenging to replicate. At the present local government elections, the NPP was successful in retaining its all-island presence although not to the same degree.

Consolidating Support

Much attention has been given to the relative decline in the ruling party’s vote share from the 61 percent it secured in December’s general election to 43 percent in the local elections. This slippage has been interpreted by some as a sign of waning popularity. However, such a reading overlooks the broader trajectory of political change. Just three years ago, the NPP and its allied parties polled less than five percent nationally. That they now command over 40 percent of the vote represents a profound transformation in voter preferences and political culture. What is even more significant is the stability of this support base, which now surpasses that of any rival. The votes obtained by the NPP at these elections were double those of its nearest rival.

The electoral outcomes in the north and east, which were largely won by parties representing the Tamil and Muslim communities, is a warning signal that ethnic conflict lurks beneath the surface. The success of the minority parties signals the different needs and aspirations of the ethnic and religious minority electorates, and the need for the government to engage more fully with them.  Apart from the problems of poverty, lack of development, inadequate access to economic resources and antipathy to excessive corruption that people of the north and east share in common with those in other parts of the country, they also have special problems that other sections of the population do not have. These would include problems of military takeover of their lands, missing persons and persons incarcerated for long periods either without trial or convictions under the draconian Prevention of Terrorism Act (which permits confessions made to security forces to be made admissible for purposes of conviction) and the long time quest for self-rule in the areas of their predominance

The government’s failure to address these longstanding issues with urgency appears to have caused disaffection in electorate in the north and east. While structural change is necessarily complex and slow, delays can be misinterpreted as disinterest or disregard, especially by minorities already accustomed to marginalisation. The lack of visible progress on issues central to minority communities fosters a sense of exclusion and deepens political divides. Even so, it is worth noting that the NPP’s vote in the north and east was not insignificant. It came despite the NPP not tailoring its message to ethnic grievances. The NPP has presented a vision of national reform grounded in shared values of justice, accountability, development, and equality.

Translating electoral gains into meaningful governance will require more than slogans. The failure to swiftly address matters deemed to be important by the people of those areas appears to have cost the NPP votes amongst the ethnic and religious minorities, but even here it is necessary to keep matters in perspective.  The NPP came first in terms of seats won in two of the seven electoral districts of the north and east.  They came second in five others. The fact that the NPP continued to win significant support indicates that its approach of equity in development and equal rights for all has resonance. This was despite the Tamil and Muslim parties making appeals to the electorate on nationalist or ethnic grounds.

Slow Change

Whether in the north and east or outside it, the government is perceived to be slow in delivering on its promises.  In the context of the promise of system change, it can be appreciated that such a change will be resisted tooth and nail by those with vested interests in the continuation of the old system.  System change will invariably be resisted at multiple levels.  The problem is that the slow pace of change may be seen by ethnic and religious minorities as being due to the disregard of their interests.  However, the system change is coming slow not only in the north and east, but also in the entire country.

At the general election in December last year, the NPP won an unprecedented number of parliamentary seats in both the country as well as in the north and east.  But it has still to make use of its 2/3 majority to make the changes that its super majority permits it to do.  With control of 267 out of 339 local councils, but without outright majorities in most, it must now engage in coalition-building and consensus-seeking if it wishes to govern at the local level. This will be a challenge for a party whose identity has long been built on principled opposition to elite patronage, corruption and abuse of power rather than to governance. General Secretary of the JVP, Tilvin Silva, has signaled a reluctance to form alliances with discredited parties but has expressed openness to working with independent candidates who share the party’s values. This position can and should be extended, especially in the north and east, to include political formations that represent minority communities and have remained outside the tainted mainstream.

In a plural and multi-ethnic society like Sri Lanka, democratic legitimacy and effective governance requires coalition-building. By engaging with locally legitimate minority parties, especially in the north and east, the NPP can engage in principled governance without compromising its core values. This needs to be extended to the local government authorities in the rest of the country as well. As the 19th century English political philosopher John Stuart Mill observed, “The worth of a state in the long run is the worth of the individuals composing it,” and in plural societies, that worth can only be realised through inclusive decision-making.

by Jehan Perera

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Commercialising research in Sri Lanka – not really the healthiest thing for research

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Image credit University of Sydney

In the early 2000s, a colleague, returning to Sri Lanka after a decade in a research-heavy first world university, complained to me that ‘there is no research culture in Sri Lanka’. But what exactly does having a ‘research culture’ mean? Is a lot of funding enough? What else has stopped us from working towards a productive and meaningful research culture? A concerted effort has been made to improve the research culture of state universities, though there are debates about how healthy such practices are (there is not much consideration of the same in private ‘universities’ in Sri Lanka but that is a discussion for another time). So, in the 25 years since my colleague bemoaned our situation, what has been happening?

What is a ‘research culture’?

A good research culture would be one where we – academics and students – have the resources to engage productively in research. This would mean infrastructure, training, wholesome mentoring, and that abstract thing called headspace. In a previous Kuppi column, I explained at length some of the issues we face as researchers in Sri Lankan universities, including outdated administrative regulations, poor financial resources, and such aspects. My perspective is from the social sciences, and might be different to other disciplines. Still, I feel that there are at least a few major problems that we all face.

Number one: Money is important.

Take the example American universities. Harvard University, according to Harvard Magazine, “received $686.5 million in federally sponsored research grants” for the fiscal year of 2024 but suddenly find themselves in a bind because of such funds being held back. Research funds in these universities typically goes towards building and maintenance of research labs and institutions, costs of equipment, material and other resources and stipends for graduate and other research assistants, conferences, etc. Without such an infusion of money towards research, the USA would not have been able to attracts (and keeps) the talent and brains of other countries. Without a large amount of money dedicated for research, Sri Lankan state universities, too, will not have the research culture it yearns for. Given the country’s austere economic situation, in the last several years, research funds have come mainly from self-generated funds and treasury funds. Yet, even when research funds are available (they are usually inadequate), we still have some additional problems.

Number two: Unending spools of red tape

In Sri Lankan universities red tape is endless. An MoU with a foreign research institution takes at least a year. Financial regulations surrounding the award and spending of research grants is frustrating.

Here’s a personal anecdote. In 2018, I applied for a small research grant from my university. Several months later, I was told I had been awarded it. It comes to me in installments of not more than Rs 100,000. To receive this installment, I must submit a voucher and wait a few weeks until it passes through various offices and gains various approvals. For mysterious financial reasons, asking for reimbursements is discouraged. Obviously then, if I were working on a time-sensitive study or if I needed a larger amount of money for equipment or research material, I would not be able to use this grant. MY research assistants, transcribers, etc., must be willing to wait for their payments until I receive this advance. In 2022, when I received a second advance, the red tape was even tighter. I was asked to spend the funds and settle accounts – within three weeks. ‘Should I ask my research assistants to do the work and wait a few weeks or months for payment? Or should I ask them not to do work until I get the advance and then finish it within three weeks so I can settle this advance?’ I asked in frustration.

Colleagues, who regularly use university grants, frustratedly go along with it; others may opt to work with organisations outside the university. At a university meeting, a few years ago, set up specifically to discuss how young researchers could be encouraged to do research, a group of senior researchers ended the meeting with a list of administrative and financial problems that need to be resolved if we want to foster ‘a research culture’. These are still unresolved. Here is where academic unions can intervene, though they seem to be more focused on salaries, permits and school quotas. If research is part of an academic’s role and responsibility, a research-friendly academic environment is not a privilege, but a labour issue and also impinges on academic freedom to generate new knowledge.

Number three: Instrumentalist research – a global epidemic

The quality of research is a growing concern, in Sri Lanka and globally. The competitiveness of the global research environment has produced seriously problematic phenomena, such as siphoning funding to ‘trendy’ topics, the predatory publications, predatory conferences, journal paper mills, publications with fake data, etc. Plagiarism, ghost writing and the unethical use of AI products are additional contemporary problems. In Sri Lanka, too, we can observe researchers publishing very fast – doing short studies, trying to publish quickly by sending articles to predatory journals, sending the same article to multiple journals at the same time, etc. Universities want more conferences rather than better conferences. Many universities in Sri Lanka have mandated that their doctoral candidates must publish journal articles before their thesis submission. As a consequence, novice researchers frequently fall prey to predatory journals. Universities have also encouraged faculties or departments to establish journals, which frequently have sub-par peer review.

Alongside this are short-sighted institutional changes. University Business Liankage cells, for instance, were established as part of the last World Bank loan cycle to universities. They are expected to help ‘commercialise’ research and focuses on research that can produce patents, and things that can be sold. Such narrow vision means that the broad swathe of research that is undertaken in universities are unseen and ignored, especially in the humanities and social sciences. A much larger vision could have undertaken the promotion of research rather than commercialisation of it, which can then extend to other types of research.

This brings us to the issue of what types of research is seen as ‘relevant’ or ‘useful’. This is a question that has significant repercussions. In one sense, research is an elitist endeavour. We assume that the public should trust us that public funds assigned for research will be spent on worth-while projects. Yet, not all research has an outcome that shows its worth or timeliness in the short term. Some research may not be understood other than by specialists. Therefore, funds, or time spent on some research projects, are not valued, and might seem a waste, or a privilege, until and unless a need for that knowledge suddenly arises.

A short example suffices. Since the 1970s, research on the structures of Sinhala and Sri Lankan Tamil languages (sound patterns, sentence structures of the spoken versions, etc.) have been nearly at a standstill. The interest in these topics are less, and expertise in these areas were not prioritised in the last 30 years. After all, it is not an area that can produce lucrative patents or obvious contributions to the nation’s development. But with digital technology and AI upon us, the need for systematic knowledge of these languages is sorely evident – digital technologies must be able to work in local languages to become useful to whole populations. Without a knowledge of the structures and sounds of local languages – especially the spoken varieties – people who cannot use English cannot use those devices and platforms. While providing impetus to research such structures, this need also validates utilitarian research.

This then is the problem with espousing instrumental ideologies of research. World Bank policies encourage a tying up between research and the country’s development goals. However, in a country like ours, where state policies are tied to election manifestos, the result is a set of research outputs that are tied to election cycles. If in 2019, the priority was national security, in 2025, it can be ‘Clean Sri Lanka’. Prioritising research linked to short-sighted visions of national development gains us little in the longer-term. At the same time, applying for competitive research grants internationally, which may have research agendas that are not nationally relevant, is problematic. These are issues of research ethics as well.

Concluding thoughts

In moving towards a ‘good research culture’, Sri Lankan state universities have fallen into the trap of adopting some of the problematic trends that have swept through the first world. Yet, since we are behind the times anyway, it is possible for us to see the damaging consequences of those issues, and to adopt the more fruitful processes. A slower, considerate approach to research priorities would be useful for Sri Lanka at this point. It is also a time for collective action to build a better research environment, looking at new relationships and collaborations, and mentoring in caring ways.

(Dr. Kaushalya Perera teaches at the Department of English, University of Colombo)

Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.

By Kaushalya Perera

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Melantha …in the spotlight

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Fun mode for Melantha Perera and Allwyn H. Stephen

Melantha Perera, who has been associated with many top bands in the past, due to his versatility as a musician, is now enjoying his solo career, as well … as a singer.

He was invited to perform at the first ever ‘Noon2Moon’ event, held in Dubai, at The Huddle, CityMax Hotel, on Saturday, 3rd May.

It was 15 hours of non-stop music, featuring several artistes, with Melantha (the only Sri Lankan on the show), doing two sets.

According to reports coming my way, ‘Noon2Moon’ turned out to be the party of the year, with guests staying back till well past 3.00 am, although it was a 12.00 noon to 3.00 am event.

Having Arabic food

Melantha says he enjoyed every minute he spent on stage as the crowd, made up mostly of Indians, loved the setup.

“I included a few Sinhala songs as there were some Sri Lankans, as well, in the scene.”

Allwyn H. Stephen, who is based in the UAE, was overjoyed with the success of ‘Noon2Moon’.

Says Allwyn: “The 1st ever Noon2Moon event in Dubai … yes, we delivered as promised. Thank you to the artistes for the fab entertainment, the staff of The Huddle UAE , the sound engineers, our sponsors, my supporters for sharing and supporting and, most importantly, all those who attended and stayed back till way past 3.00 am.”

Melantha:
Dubai and
then Oman

Allwyn, by the way, came into the showbiz scene, in a big way, when he featured artistes, live on social media, in a programme called TNGlive, during the Covid-19 pandemic.

After his performance in Dubai, Melantha went over to Oman and was involved in a workshop – ‘Workshop with Melantha Perera’, organised by Clifford De Silva, CEO of Music Connection.

The Workshop included guitar, keyboard and singing/vocal training, with hands-on guidance from the legendary Melantha Perera, as stated by the sponsors, Music Connection.

Back in Colombo, Melantha will team up with his band Black Jackets for their regular dates at the Hilton, on Fridays and Sundays, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays at Warehouse, Vauxhall Street.

Melantha also mentioned that Bright Light, Sri Lanka’s first musical band formed entirely by visually impaired youngsters, will give their maiden public performance on 7th June at the MJF Centre Auditorium in Katubadda, Moratuwa.

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