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Dr. NM Perera’s days at S. Thomas’ & Ananda Colleges and entry into films

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(Excerpted from NM – in his own words; as seen by others Edited by Prof. Colvin Goonaratna)

Somewhere towards the end of the war in 1918, I left St. Joseph’s School Grandpass, and sought admission to St. Thomas’ College, where my brothers were already boarded. Rev. Stone, who was Warden at the time, suggested that I make my application a year later, after a year at Cathedral Boy’s School, Mutwal, which was a branch of St. Thomas’ at the old premises.

I spent an uneventful year at the school to which I walked from home every morning, a distance of about three miles. My mother gave me 15 cents to spend on my lunch. I generally ate a bun with a cup of plain tea thrown in. Rest of the money I devoted to gram. After school, I trudged back home for a hefty plate of rice.

This school left no impression on me at all. Of the teachers, only one, Mr. Thambimuttu, remains in my memory. He taught me boxing. Mr. Jayasekera also rings a bell in my mind as a person who came occasionally to teach me singing. I made no headway in this.

In 1919, I went to the main College, St. Thomas’, as a boarder at Mount Lavinia. My elder brother, N.S.Perera, was already the Prefect at Coppleston House. My other brother, David, was also in the same House. Quite naturally I found myself installed at this House from the first day. Normally juniors gravitate from the ‘small houses’ like Winchester to the ‘big houses’ like Chapman and Coppleston. I escaped the hierarchical flow.

Coppleston was situated outside the bounds of the college proper. Since dormitory arrangements were still in the incubation stage, a private house was rented out as a dormitory. It was quite an old, somewhat ramshackle building with no running water. All of us had to troop to the well in the morning and there was quite a rush for the early morning ablutions.

There must have been about 40 of us in that ramshackle building with its uncemented floors. We had to march to the dining hall for morning tea and it was quite a sight to see the boys running half-dressed, unkempt, half-washed or unwashed. Some were lacing their boots as they walked, some were buttoning their clothes. Most of us were in various stages of disarray, but quite presentable by the time the hall was reached.

Needed no prodding

Of my school days, the period I spent at S. Thomas’ was the happiest. I look back to this period with genuine nostalgia. I reveled in the outdoor life it offered. As I have adverted earlier, studies came easily to me. I needed no prodding. I did enough to meet the requirements of the form-master and never thought of getting to the top of the class. It was sufficient for me that I was within the first ten.

As soon as school was over, we trooped into the dining hall for a cup of tea and a slice of bread which had a pat of butter. There might have been a sour plantain thrown in but this I cannot remember for certain, but food mattered least to us. We swallowed and gobbled and made a beeline to the cricket ground.

Cricket was the all-absorbing game. We lived for it, talked of it and dreamt of it. College was divided into two clubs. The small club and the big club. The small club was confined to the small boys and fell into four divisions. The smallest began in ‘D’ division. Every now and then, most promising boys were permitted to enter the ‘C’ division. As I showed some talent in cricket, I began with a jump to the ‘C’ division straightaway. From this, the best graduated to the ‘B’ division. From there the next step was ‘A’ division, which was a prelude to big club promotion.

All the best cricketers of the college were at the big club. We, of the small club, dreamt of the day when we would get promoted to the big club and eventually find a place in the first eleven, with the right to wear the college blazer.

Unprecedented feat

I think I made history at the small club of S, Thomas’. I was allocated to the ‘C’ division. Just above us was ‘B’ division which consisted of older boys with more cricketing prowess than us. After a few months the ‘C’ division accomplished an unprecedented and unheard of feat. We challenged the ‘B’ division and beat it handsomely. I take pride in the fact that I had a major hand in it with my bowling.

We were not content to rest on these laurels. We challenged the ‘A’ division and played on a proper matting wicket. The outcome of this match has slipped my memory, but we could not have fared too badly. We did have some good cricketers who blossomed out in college cricket in later years. Not long after this, I was promoted to the big club, but I did not stay long enough to qualify for the first eleven. I left St. Thomas’ for Ananda in 1922.

The whole atmosphere at St. Thomas’ at this time was pleasant and enjoyable. There was never a dull moment. The dormitory master was C. B. Paulick- Pulle who left us severely alone with little or no supervison. On Sunday morning, Rev. Stone, the Warden of the college, walked from his bungalow which was down the road by the railway crossing near the beach. He either played chess with us or draughts. He generally beat the boys at chess, I made up for it by defeating him at draughts.

My attachment to chess was induced by Rev. Stone and I am grateful to him, for it has continued to be a source of enjoyment to date. I never had the time to deviate into competitive chess. It continues to be a delectable relaxation from other work. Warden Stone also had a hand in moulding my educational career. He was responsible for diverting me from science to the classics.

He insisted that I take to Latin and Greek instead of science as my two elder brothers were already science students. We had already been inducted into Latin in fourth form. When I was promoted to the fifth form, which was preparatory to the Junior Cambridge, I was drawn into the study of Greek. I cannot say I was very enthusiastic, nor was I disposed to protest.

My elder brother, N. S. Perera, acquiesced and I fell in line. I can still remember the Greek alphabet, and the only book that has still remained in my memory is Zeno Phon Anabayis. Fortunately for me, I was moved away from St. Thomas’ before I could get absorbed into this dead language.

Gave nicknames to masters

We had some interesting characters as teachers at St. Thomas’. It was a tradition of the College to give nicknames to masters. Mr. C. V. Perera was dubbed ‘Soapa’ because it was said he had come to class half- shaved, and with soap on his face having been driven out of the house by his wife. He was a henpecked husband and generally took revenge by venting his ire on the boys.

He had a habit of slapping the boy nearest to him for a wrong answer given by a boy in the back of the class. Sometimes, he did a round of slapping for no ostensible reason that one can think of. But he

stopped short of the heftier boys who he feared might retaliate. I took the precaution of always sitting next to Dunstan de Silva, a forbidding hefty chap whom ‘Soapa’ never touched. ‘Soapa’ did our Latin and Greek.

Hilary Jansz commanded our respect because he was a strict disciplinarian. He was called ‘Herali’. O.P. Gunaratne, known as ‘La Goone’ because of his penchant for French, was also a strict taskmaster. More amiable was ‘Rambuttan’ Amerasinghe devoted to Mathematics. ‘Holman’ Ohlums was more sedate and easygoing. But on occasion he did a vicious horse-bite on the thighs of boys. Wanigasekera ‘Coolpide’ taught elementary science but was not very impressive. Mr. Arndt was volatile and aloof; he covered English literature and Greek. He had a reputation as a Shakespearean actor. He produced “Twelfth Night”, playing the part of Malvolio. I believe it made quite a hit at the time.

A man whom all of us feared was ” Nain Cotta” Navaratnam, the dormitory master of Chapman house. A short man with a short temper with a biting tongue as vicious as his mien. He kept very much to himself because he was more concerned with his law studies than teaching. He eventually passed on to practice at the bar with some degree of success.

Important watershed in life

I left St. Thomas’ College and joined Ananda in the year 1922, This sudden switch from a missionary

institution to a national institution marked an important watershed in my life. Many reasons contributed to this significant change.

Under the dynamic leadership of Mr. P de S. Kularatne, Ananda was becoming the premier Buddhist educational establishment of the country. More than that, it was in the forefront of education. It outshone other colleges in the results it achieved in public examinations. An outstanding staff gave it a pre- eminence which attracted the best talents of the student population.

Apart from Mr. Kularatne himself, we had such teachers like G. Weeramantry, T.B. Jayah, G.P. Malalasekera, C. Suntheralingam, C. S. Strange, C.V. Ranawaka, William Perera, J.N. Jinendradasa, L.H. Mettananda, G.C. Edirisinghe, etc.

Furthermore, this was the period of Buddhist revival coupled with nationalism. Mr. Kularatne himself had led the way by donning the national dress and discarding the coat and trousers as foreign to our cultural heritage. Doubtless, the ferment in India under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi, Motilal Nehru, Sapru Malaviya and C.R. Das fired the imagination of an institution like Ananda.

It is no accident that Ananda at this time sponsored distinguished guest speakers such as Mrs. Sarojini Naidu and Dr. Evans Wentz. While Mrs. Sarojini Naidu kindled our national aspirations, Dr. E. Evans Wentz stimulated the Buddhist revival. These were but two facets of the single objective of national regeneration. National independence was a sine qua non for Buddhism to regain its rightful place in the country. This trend of thought got additional stimulus from an address by Mrs. Annie Besant.

Pestering relatives

I was thus catapulted from a carefree world of sport and an alien atmosphere to a new world of intense

nationalism. In my last year at St. Thomas’, I had been smoothly inveigled into becoming a Christian as a result of some slick work on the part of Rev. G. B. Ekanayake. I was rescued just in time by the vigilance of my parents who gently whisked me away from that atmosphere.

The transfer to Ananda was facilitated also by the change of abode from St. Joseph’s Street to Maligakanda. My father decided to run away from his pestering relatives in the Grandpass area and shifted to a rented house in Maligakanda Road. There was the added reason that my elder brother, N. S. Perera, had finished his schooling. All three of us, therefore, left the boarding at Mount Lavinia.

I continued my studies at Ananda. My elder brother, David, dropped out of his studies. N. S. took to teaching for a short while before joining the Survey Department as a probationary Assistant Superintendent of Surveys, one of the first batches I believe opened to Ceylonese.

Student life at Ananda was quite different to the carefree, playful atmosphere of St. Thomas’. As a day scholar, I had not the constant companionship of students that a boarding life offers. I came bang into the problems connected with domestic life. Congested Maligakanda was not an invigorating place. There were no congenial companions close by and the lighthearted happiness I enjoyed at Mount Lavinia had evaporated.

Fortunately, we did not dwell long at Maligakanda. Within the space of a year or so, we shifted to No. 41, Campbell Place, a house with a garden in front and the rear. Father had purchased it and there we felt a sense of relief. Our neighbours were kind and friendly. I was particularly pleased because the college playground was only a few minutes’ walk from home.

With my admission to Ananda, my concentration on studies increased. I cleared both Junior and Senior Cambridge examinations without much effort though I do not think I did anything outstanding. Still, my first love was cricket. The strong predilection that I had for outdoor sport, continued unabated. Football, hockey, athletics and cadeting, all absorbed most of my waking thoughts. Studies were not neglected. I took them in my stride. When I left St. Thomas’, Latin and Greek were also left behind.

Ananda had jettisoned these dead languages and I got propelled into more exciting studies like history and geography. I was pushed into botany and chemistry as well. These latter subjects never caught my fancy, may be because the teachers were not inspiring enough.

At Ananda, after the first year, I was blossoming out as a leader of the students. Apart from the fact that as a cricketer of the first eleven, I commanded some prestige as I participated in more of the extra-curricular activities. Debating societies found in me an active member. At the fair for raising funds for the College, Mr. Kularatne would pick on me for responsible jobs. He felt he could depend on me to do my work without fear or favour.

More formative was the new atmosphere I breathed. I began to grasp the true meaning of Buddhism. Hitherto, it had been just ritual, going to temples with members of the family, reciting gathas and lighting oil lamps. Now, for the first time under the guidance of great teachers like Rev. Ananda Maithriya, Buddhist philosophy broadened my humanism. The reality of the doctrines began to penetrate the innermost recesses of my thinking. It was natural, therefore, that I observed Ata Sil on most Poya days while at Ananda.

Herein lay the great divide. Missionary education was both apolitical and anti-national, not specifically, but insidiously so. An institution like Ananda had a different tone and a different atmosphere. At Ananda, one felt the impact of everything that was happening in the country, to the people of the country. At an institution like St. Thomas’, one felt aloof and immune from the hurly burly of everyday life. I believe this was typical of most missionary schools that functioned during this time.

In this new atmosphere charged with nationalist feelings, the more serious side of my character was being stirred. Ananda was slowly remoulding me. Every discussion, every controversy was stirring something latent in my consciousness. In the not too distant future, these smouldering embers would be kindled and the blazing fire would help devour much of the privileges and injustices of an alien hegemony.

Came a cropper

I came a cropper at the 1924. London Matriculation Examination, the only examination I ever failed. I had offered botany as one of the subjects, and it pulled me down. So much depends on the correct approach of the teacher in stimulating the interest of the subject, that botany never caught my imagination at that time. Looking back, I think this is a pity because it can be a fascinating subject if more field work and less classroom studies are undertaken.

Anyhow, I switched from botany to logic the following year and easily cleared the hurdle. Here, I must pay a tribute to the teacher who made a vital difference to me in my studies. I refer to Mr. G. C. Edirisinghe. He generated a new enthusiasm in the study of history in particular. A keen mind, George, as we fondly called him, had read widely. He was well steeped in Gibbon and had a good grasp of the philosophy of history. He had the capacity to impart the wide knowledge he had imbibed. With history ceasing to be a dull recitation of dates, but a living comprehension of the threads that bind humanity as it moved towards a higher synthesis, I am deeply beholden to him for the help he gave me.

I left Ananda in 1925 after the inter- collegiate cricket season. I captained the team and we did fairly well as a side. We played a number of matches with other big colleges, a privilege which we did not enjoy in previous years. So strong was the prejudice against Ananda by the top missionary colleges.

A gap of five to six months intervened between leaving Ananda and joining the University College.

There was no University then. We had a College affiliated to the London University for the examinations which the students sat. Time would have been weighing on me heavily during this gap, had not chance offered me a stranger and exciting experience.

Mr. Noorbhai of Bambalapitiya had decided to screen a film in Ceylon and engaged a Bengali producer, Mr. Gupta. An advertisement appeared in the local press calling for would be actors and actresses. Partly out of curiosity, partly as a lark, I applied. To my surprise I was interviewed and chosen to take the part of the hero. I was reconciled to be allotted some minor role, and the chief role was more than my wildest dream entertained.

The location of this new film venture was in Joseph Lane, Bambalapitiya. It was a house belonging to Mr. Noorbhai situated quite close to his own abode. At this distance of time I have only a foggy memory of the place and its layout. It was bare of all furniture, and I believe Mr. Gupta, the director, sat cross-legged on a mat and interviewed me. He was a small-made shabbily dressed unimpressive man, whose knowledge about film production could not be rated very high. He wore a dhoti that does not seem to have seen the dhoby for some time.

His appearance was indicative of his limited mental equipment for the onerous task of producing a film. He might have been a technician of some sort from Bengal. Somehow or other, he seems to have inveigled the hardheaded businesses man, Mr. Noorbhai, into embarking on a doubtful venture.



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Features

Revolt in the Temple: Poverty as Structural Control

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

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

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

Multi-dimensional poverty

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

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

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

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

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

Ethical decision-making

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

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

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

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

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

Modern Condition

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

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

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

Symbolic systems

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

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

by Nilantha Ilangamuwa

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Are threats to Buddha Sasana external or from within?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By Dr Upul Wijayawardhana

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Vijaya Kumar: Academic, Activist & Genial Fellow-Traveller

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Professor Vijaya Kumar

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Colombo Telegraph)

By Tissa Jayatilaka

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