Features
Embarking on a new career in physiotherapy in the UK
by Padmani Mendis
Excerpted from Memories that linger…….My journey in the world of disability
(Continued from last week)
I was going to be a doctor. Instead, I became a physiotherapist. It has been 66 years now since that decision was made, and never a regret. Just relief together with joy that I had made the correct choice. I believe that, had I studied medicine, I may well have emigrated to settle down in some land far away from that of my birth.
My mother had always wanted a doctor in the family. She had tried with each of her children in turn until there was only one left, and she appeared to have succeeded at last. I was kind of agreeable with the thought. The first step in gaining entrance to medical college at that time was that one should obtain at least five credit passes in the Senior School Certificate or SSC Examination. Having got those, the next step for me was success in the Higher School Certificate, HSC, or University Entrance Examination.
We had just entered the Sixth Form or Year One of the HSC. One day all the sixth formers in both the science and arts streams were asked to come together. We were to be addressed by a lady who worked as a physiotherapist at the General Hospital, Colombo. She was from England and had been sent to work there by the World Health Organisation or WHO. This lady introduced herself to us as Elizabeth McDowell. She told us about the work she did at the General Hospital.
And then she showed us a short film about how she did what she did. This film showed people who could not do so after strokes being taught to walk; those who had been paralysed by polio doing exercises and making their muscles strong; they could now put these parts of their body to daily use and be independent; those who had pain in the necks and backs being relieved of it through the use of lamps and machines. Some had their necks or trunks stretched out to give “traction” which would relieve their pain. Those who had asthma and phlegm in their chests and other breathing problems were placed in various positions and tapped on their chests; with this the phlegm would be loosened, they would cough it out more easily and be able to breathe in comfort.
All this and more Elizabeth showed us. Then she invited any of us who would like to know more about her work to come to see her at the General Hospital and learn more about it. The purpose was to encourage at least some of us to see a future in this new profession and join the course of study that was to be made available at the General Hospital. This was a profession that was formally new to Ceylon. There were a few young Ceylonese who had been sent by the Government on Colombo Plan Scholarships to study and return qualified as physiotherapists. Some had been sent to England and Scotland and others to Australia and New Zealand. Although all of them had to come back when studies were over, many of them emigrated later to the UK and some to Canada. Later, even to the United States.
In these countries, the work of physiotherapists was better recognised and compensated in relation to their value, and their futures were more promising. For many decades after that, even as Sri Lanka continued to produce her own physiotherapists, this exodus continued. But patients now knew about physiotherapy and asked for it. The country was continuously in short supply until the market in those countries had been filled. The Ministry of Health was then required to increase cadres and make physiotherapy more accessible to patients who were in need of it.
Physiotherapy education was started by the Ministry of Health as a two-year course of study. It is now available as graduate courses in several universities. Masters and PhD studies are also now available.The morning that we visited Elizabeth at the General Hospital we were a group of nine, young and adventurous, and Deepthi was with us. With the smell of ammonia in the hospital she fell into a faint. Deepthi went on to Medical College and then as Dr. Attygalle, ended up as an eminent Anaesthesiologist. We still tease her about her faint on her first visit to a hospital.
Destiny
That visit with Elizabeth provided for me my first encounter with disability. Even though I had been a passive observer during the encounter, it had impacted my life forever. For that is when, in my subconscious, I had seen my future in this profession. I can still see that visit in my mind’s eye. I knew I no longer wanted to be a doctor. I would be a physiotherapist.
This decision however I kept to myself, knowing I should share it with my mother only when the right time for it came. I was not sure then that I would have the opportunity to avail myself of that course of study. So I went on to prepare for the HSC Examination that would enable my entrance to Medical College, more or less forgetting for the time being, the interest in physiotherapy that was created in me that special morning.
Then something strange happened to me in the second year of Form Six. I crashed in my studies. While I had gained a distinction and credits in science subjects at the SSC Examination, the marks I got not eighteen months later for term examinations were now like 10%, 18% and even below 10%. No one knew what had happened. If it happens to a young teenager now, no doubt the advice of a medical professional would be sought and a diagnosis would have been made.
At that time it seemed to have been alright, was not talked about, and somehow we coped with the situation. At home my mother did not show me that she was unduly worried. At school, it appeared that teachers had taken it as a matter of course – I had done badly in my examinations. Mrs. Amirtharanee Ratnasingham, our class teacher in Form Six Two and I had an easy relationship of mutual affection. My sister Nalini and she had been classmates and good friends. Beyond her intellect and knowledge, her personality made her an exceptional teacher. I had tremendous respect for her. I felt that she was always protective of me, always there for me.
Coming straight from the Principal’s office one morning at the end of the second-term, she called me aside. She said to me with great tact something like, “Padmini you have not done too well in your exams. Maybe you need to study a little more so you will be ready for the University Entrance next year. Why don’t you wait another year with us and do the exam next year? Would you like to do that?” That was good news to me because I too felt I did not know enough to sit that exam. It was, in fact, a relief. I replied that yes of course I would stay. But I had a sneaking feeling that I may not.
Before the end of that term, I had told my mother that I would not be continuing my studies at Ladies’. She was, of course not just sorry that she would not have a doctor in the family; more than that she worried about my future and what I would do now. But I reassured her that I would do something useful. I guess she knew her daughter and had trust in me.
When Miss Simon was told about my plans, she would have none of it. “No,” she said to me sternly in her office. “You are not going to stay at home. At the beginning of next year, you will come back and help Mrs. Ratnasingham in the Lab.”
Which I was happy to do. It gave me time to share my decision with my mother. I was called the Lab Assistant and was paid a salary, or allowance, of one hundred and thirty-five rupees. A princely sum to a young girl just out of school. When I showed surprise that I should receive such a large amount, I was told that this was my entitlement, having the qualification of SSC after my name.
My mother had by this time bought a house at Clifford Road, Kollupitiya, so that the younger of my two sisters, now 28, could have her own home and look after the three younger brothers and me. My mother continued to live at Kalubowila with Uncle Lyn. But her heart was with us and every morning she would come to Clifford Road and return to Kalubowila in the evening.
Most of my friends were all still students, waiting to start at the university or medical college. And here I was, financially independent. At the end of every month I would give fifty rupees to my sister as my share of house expenses. She would take no more. A monthly visit with my mother and sister to Ranjana Stores on Bankshall Street in Pettah was a part of the calendar. Here they would every month help me choose a saree made of exquisite “Katau” voile to add to my working wardrobe, now growing at a steady pace.
These beautiful Indian sarees at that time cost around twenty rupees each. Occasionally my mother would buy me a soft Kashmiri silk with a matching blouse piece for three times that amount. Other minor incidentals and the remainder was savings. I was given no choice but to put that into a Post Office Savings Book. There was a small post office not far from us at Kollupitiya. It is this that has grown to what it is now.
Sharing my Secret
These were happy times working with Mrs. Ratnasingham, getting both chemistry and physics labs ready for lessons and experiments and afterwards making sure that the students would leave the rooms clean and tidy. Getting the flowers and leaves and any other material Miss Lakshmi de Mel required for her botany lessons. And seeing to it that the rats, cockroaches and other odious animals and insects Mrs. Arulampalam wished to have for her Zoology classes were available on time. When alone with Mrs. R, she would often say to me, “Padminee, what are you going to do. You must do something.”
Which got me thinking that it was time I had a chat with my mother. I told her I would like to become a physiotherapist with the why and a possible how. Most of my brothers had gone abroad for various studies and so had my sister Nalini’s husband Leslie. She had of course gone with him. I felt it was a kind of family tradition that I should follow. If my mother agreed, I would find an affordable way. She agreed and I did.
In Search of a Way
I first looked for scholarships that I could apply for. Off went a letter to the German Embassy telling them of my interest and asking whether they would consider giving me a scholarship to study physiotherapy in Germany. They said that they had given out all their scholarships that year in 1958. However, they advised me to learn German so that they could consider me for the next year. That was rather too long to wait, but I started German language lessons. Just in case I could not find a faster route.
We had at school a teacher of English called Erin Muller. It was obvious to us that she was related to the well-known Orthopaedic Surgeon Gerry Muller. I had heard that Mr. Muller had his own clinic where he employed a physiotherapist from England. I told Miss Muller that I would like to meet her to find out about opportunities in the UK. She gladly arranged for this. I was given the address of the Chartered Society of Physiotherapy or CSP, headquartered in London.
The CSP was responsible for all physiotherapy education in the UK. My next letter therefore went to the CSP taking care to inform them of our financial constraints. Back came the reply that there were three hospitals in the UK to which I could apply. Costs of study would be within my mother’s budget. So, I sent letters of application to all three. Post was then carried by ship. It turned out later that all three would offer me a place. I grabbed the offer made in the first letter that reached me. I had got a place to study physiotherapy at the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital or ROH in Birmingham.

The Course of Study in Physiotherapy in the UK was in length then three years and three months. All costs had to be paid for, including the course and related fees and all costs of accommodation had to be met. This we could absolutely not afford. But the three hospitals recommended in the letter offered a way out. They were all Orthopaedic Hospitals. They offered a combined course whereby a student who first followed a two-year course in Orthopaedic Nursing with them, could then avail of free tuition in physiotherapy as well as have accommodation provided for during the period of the physiotherapy course. Here it was. My mother was hesitant, pointing out to me what I was letting myself in for. But she was no barrier, And never had been throughout my life.
My letter of acceptance had to be accompanied by a letter of recommendation from my school principal. Now how was I to get this?
Miss Simon and I had never been very close. As part of her daily routine, she would go to the hostel every day to have lunch with the boarders. I would accost her on her way there at noon-time.
And so I did, making my request. That she was at the same time shocked, amazed and happy for me is an understatement. Yet filled with pride that quiet me had gone far beyond her expectations, she admonished me for, “leaving everything until the last minute”. I went to her office that afternoon and her letter was in my hands. The next morning that letter attached to mine was on the high seas on its way to inform the ROH, Birmingham that they would soon have a student from Ceylon.
Preparation for my Mother
Meanwhile, there were lots of things to be done. Most important to my mother was to find out as much as she could about this Orthopaedic Nursing and Physiotherapy course that her daughter was determined to go to England for. She had to be sure even now that she was doing the right thing in letting me go.
When Mr. Muller had earlier heard of my interest in physiotherapy he had been delighted. He had invited me to come to his clinic and be with his physiotherapist while she worked whenever it suited me and her. I had been doing that regularly. So my mother had an opportunity to speak with her.
Then an appointment was made with no delay with the Officer-in-Charge of the British Council in Colombo. When he heard about our plans, he was angry with my mother. He used words like, “do you realise what your daughter will have to do as a nurse in England? Do you know that she will have to go down on her hands and knees and scrub the floors? Are you going to let your daughter do these things?” Which had my mother in tears. But I had read enough about nursing in England to know that this was not true. I was as determined as ever that I would go. I had to go to England to study. I tried to persuade my mother that he was misleading us. Why he did that I knew not.
But my mother would go no further without ascertaining the truth of what the British Council Officer had told her. So she next made an appointment to meet Ceylon’s other well-known Orthopaedic Surgeon at the time, Dr. Francis Silva. Dr. Silva was a relative of my father’s, but my mother made this a formal occasion, seeing him in his surgery.
When he heard of what I wished to do and what the Officer had said, he first dismissed that person’s stories out of hand. Then he filled my mother with reassurance. She was actually “Pansy Akka” to him. He told her what a useful profession this was in England. He told her Ceylon needed many more young girls like me to who were willing to do what I was planning to do. My mother was almost satisfied – maybe I would be alright.
(To be continued)
Features
Why spill water and reject sunlight while burning imported fuel?
Sri Lanka needs a fairer and more transparent approach to renewable energy
by K R Pushparanjan
Sri Lanka has spent several decades encouraging private investment in renewable energy. Small hydropower was among the earliest successes of this policy while rooftop solar has more recently enabled thousands of ordinary households and businesses to become electricity producers. These developments have reduced the country’s dependence on imported fuel, mobilised private capital for electricity generation and contributed towards a cleaner and more diversified energy system.
It is therefore difficult to reconcile these objectives with reports that renewable generators are increasingly being required to curtail production during periods of low electricity demand, particularly on Sundays, Poya days and other holidays. The question is especially relevant to run-of-river mini-hydropower, where naturally available water may simply pass downstream when generation is stopped, and to rooftop solar, where abundant midday sunshine cannot be postponed until the evening peak.
There are, of course, legitimate technical reasons why the Ceylon Electricity Board (CEB), as system operator, may occasionally have to curtail renewable generation. An electricity system must maintain a continuous balance between generation and consumption. On Sundays and holidays, industrial and commercial demand can fall considerably while solar, hydro and wind generation remain available. Certain conventional generating units may sometimes have to remain connected to provide frequency control, voltage support, operating reserves and other services essential for grid stability. Transmission constraints can also make it impossible to substitute generation in one part of the country directly for generation elsewhere.
No responsible renewable-energy producer would suggest that grid security should be compromised merely to accept every available unit of renewable electricity. However, legitimate engineering considerations should not become a blanket explanation that places curtailment decisions beyond public scrutiny.
The CEB itself describes the economic principle underlying electricity dispatch as merit-order dispatch, under which lower-cost generation is normally utilised before progressively more expensive generation. Consequently, whenever inexpensive renewable electricity is deliberately curtailed while substantially more expensive oil-fired generation continues, electricity consumers and renewable producers are entitled to ask why. If a particular thermal generating unit must remain online for frequency stability, voltage support, network security or some other technical requirement, that can be explained. If transmission congestion requires renewable generation in a particular area to be reduced, that too can be demonstrated. Transparency should strengthen technically sound decisions, not threaten them.
Mini-hydro and an unequal contractual relationship
Run-of-river mini-hydropower deserves particular consideration. Unlike reservoir hydro, most such plants have limited ability to store water. When sufficient water is available, but the plant is instructed not to generate, that water may simply bypass the turbines and continue downstream. The opportunity to produce that electricity is then lost. No imported diesel, furnace oil or coal is required to allow that water to turn a turbine, and there is no corresponding fuel-related foreign-exchange expenditure.
Sri Lanka’s mini-hydropower industry was developed largely through private investment. The CEB currently records 219 commissioned mini-hydro projects with an aggregate capacity of approximately 430 MW and acknowledges the role of government policy in encouraging private-sector development of this indigenous renewable resource.
Yet, there has always been a fundamental imbalance in the commercial relationship between the small power producer and the national purchaser. Mini-hydro projects have historically sold their electricity through the Standardised Power Purchase Agreement (SPPA). The very nature of a standardised agreement substantially limits the individual developer’s negotiating position. Published material concerning Sri Lanka’s small-power-producer framework has described the SPPA as standardized and non-negotiable.
This is hardly a negotiation between parties of equal bargaining strength. A mini-hydro developer cannot realistically reject an unfavorable provision and offer the electricity to another national grid. For much of the industry’s history there has effectively been one purchaser, leaving the developer with little practical alternative but to accept the terms offered.
The weakness of that position becomes particularly evident when curtailment occurs. A PUCSL-commissioned study has recorded that under the original SPPA there was no penalty on the CEB for not purchasing energy. The developer may have invested the capital, borrowed the money, undertaken the construction and hydrological risks, maintained the machinery and had both water and generating equipment available, yet still carry the financial loss when electricity cannot be accepted for reasons originating within the national system.
If curtailment is genuinely necessary for grid security, the plant operator may have to accept the technical instruction. It does not logically follow, however, that the entire financial consequence should automatically be imposed upon the weaker contracting party.
Germany curtails renewables too – but differently
Germany provides a useful comparison precisely because it demonstrates that renewable curtailment is sometimes unavoidable even in an advanced electricity system. With very large quantities of wind and solar generation, Germany regularly experiences transmission congestion and occasions when all available renewable electricity cannot immediately be transported to consumers.
The important difference lies in how the problem is managed. Germany operates a regulated redispatch system. European electricity-market rules require redispatch to be undertaken according to objective, transparent and non-discriminatory criteria. Conventional generation, renewable generation and storage can all form part of the process, with interventions determined by what is required to relieve network constraints safely and economically.
Equally important is the recognition that curtailment has financial consequences. Germany’s Federal Network Agency explains that affected generators and storage operators have statutory entitlements to appropriate financial compensation within the redispatch framework. Depending upon the circumstances, relevant arrangements can take account of generation expenditure, lost revenue opportunities, readiness costs, maintenance implications and costs avoided because generation was reduced. The German framework also provides balancing mechanisms intended to address the commercial position of installations affected by redispatch, including renewable generators.
The principle is worth considering in Sri Lanka. When a privately financed generator is required to sacrifice otherwise available production for the security and benefit of the national electricity system, why should that cost automatically and entirely be borne by the generator?
Germany offers another lesson that may be even more important: transparency. Through the Federal Network Agency and its SMARD electricity-market information platform, information on congestion management, renewable curtailment and conventional redispatch is publicly available. Official German figures show that renewable curtailment amounted to approximately 3.5 percent of renewable generation in 2025, meaning that more than 96 percent of renewable electricity generated reached the system and consumers.
Sri Lanka cannot simply copy Germany. The two electricity systems differ enormously in size, resources, interconnections and market structure. What can be adopted, however, are the principles of transparency, non-discrimination, accountability and fair treatment of generators affected by decisions taken for the benefit of the wider system.
What generation remained online?
Whenever significant renewable curtailment occurs in Sri Lanka, sufficient information should therefore be made publicly available to answer some straightforward questions. How many megawatts were curtailed, for how many hours, and how many megawatt-hours of renewable electricity were consequently lost? Which thermal generating units remained operational during those hours? What fuel were they using and what was their approximate generation cost? Why was each of those units technically required to remain online? Was the curtailment caused by system-wide oversupply, a local transmission constraint, frequency considerations or some other identifiable requirement? These are not unreasonable questions. If the decisions are technically and economically sound, the answers should vindicate the system operator.
The issue assumes particular importance because Sri Lanka has historically spent enormous sums purchasing thermal electricity. An Auditor General’s special audit concerning ACE Power Embilipitiya reported expenditure of approximately Rs. 59.454 billion on electricity purchased from that plant between 2016 and 2021. The audit also drew attention to transmission-system problems and the consequences of permanent solutions not being implemented in a timely manner.
This does not establish that thermal generation is unnecessary or that private thermal producers have acted improperly. Nor should allegations of corruption be made against particular parties without evidence. Nevertheless, Sri Lanka’s long history of public concern regarding procurement, governance and major public expenditure makes transparency particularly important. Large thermal power contracts, fuel purchases and capacity arrangements involve substantial sums of money. The best protection against suspicion is not secrecy but disclosure.
If expensive thermal generation genuinely has to remain online while inexpensive renewable generation is curtailed, publish the technical reason. Publish the quantities. Publish the relevant costs. Allow engineers, economists, regulators, investors and electricity consumers to examine the decision for themselves.
Rooftop solar must not become the next casualty
The same argument now applies to rooftop solar. Sri Lanka successfully encouraged households and businesses to invest their own money in solar installations. Net Metering, Net Accounting and related arrangements helped transform consumers into small-scale electricity producers and contributed substantially to the growth of distributed renewable energy. PUCSL continues to recognise Net Metering, Net Accounting and Net Plus within Sri Lanka’s rooftop-solar framework.
The rapid expansion of rooftop solar undoubtedly creates genuine technical difficulties. Solar production is concentrated around daytime hours, while Sri Lanka’s major electricity demand peak occurs later. On a sunny Sunday or holiday, solar production can therefore be substantial precisely when commercial and industrial demand is low. Distribution networks designed for one-way electricity flows may also encounter voltage and hosting-capacity limitations as increasing quantities of electricity flow back from consumers towards the grid.
But it would be fundamentally unfair to encourage citizens to invest their savings in solar energy and subsequently treat their electricity as a problem simply because the national grid has not developed quickly enough to accommodate it.
Battery energy storage offers an important part of the eventual solution. A household battery can capture surplus solar energy around midday and release it during the evening, when both the household and the national system need electricity most. PUCSL has already recognized the value of combining rooftop solar with battery storage in its evolving regulatory arrangements.
However, domestic battery storage still represents a considerable additional investment for an ordinary household. Public policy should therefore be careful not to make battery ownership an economic prerequisite for participating in rooftop solar before such systems become reasonably affordable.
Until domestic battery storage becomes economically accessible to the average household, Net Metering and Net Accounting should be preserved, strengthened and made genuinely accessible. They provide a practical bridge between today’s rapidly growing distributed solar generation and tomorrow’s electricity system in which affordable batteries, utility-scale storage, pumped hydro and sophisticated demand management can shift much more renewable energy from periods of surplus to periods of high demand.
The national grid should, during this transition, continue to perform an important balancing function. Meanwhile, policy should encourage rather than compel household batteries through appropriate time-of-use tariffs and incentives. As battery prices decline, consumers will increasingly adopt them voluntarily because the economics make sense.
The grid must evolve with renewable energy
The longer-term answer is therefore not to choose between renewable energy and grid stability. Sri Lanka needs both.
Investment is required in battery storage, pumped-storage hydro, stronger transmission and distribution networks, better renewable forecasting, modern inverter technology, sophisticated system-control facilities and demand-response programmes. Electricity tariffs can also be designed to encourage industries, commercial establishments, water pumping, electric-vehicle charging and other flexible loads to consume more electricity during periods of abundant solar production.
The electricity system must gradually become capable of moving energy not merely geographically but also across time—storing electricity when nature provides more than consumers require and releasing it when demand rises.
This is also essential for maintaining investor confidence. Private investors make renewable-energy decisions according to expected annual generation, financing costs and anticipated revenue. If a developer can spend substantial capital constructing a renewable project only to face unpredictable curtailment outside his control and without adequate compensation or contractual recourse, the investment risk increases. Eventually that risk translates into higher financing costs, higher required returns and fewer projects.
A country cannot credibly invite private investors to finance renewable energy infrastructure while retaining an overwhelmingly one-sided contractual ability to discard their output and transfer the resulting financial loss back to them.
Transparency should not frighten the CEB
Nobody should expect the CEB to compromise national grid security merely to accommodate a mini-hydro plant or rooftop-solar producer. Where curtailment is technically unavoidable, it should occur.
But “system stability” should never become a phrase that ends the discussion.
Where synchronous generation must remain operating, explain why. Where transmission congestion requires renewable curtailment, identify the constraint. Where renewable producers sacrifice available generation for the benefit of the national system, develop a fair compensation mechanism. Where expensive thermal generation remains operational while naturally available water bypasses turbines, disclose why that was the technically necessary and economically preferable decision.
Germany demonstrates that renewable curtailment and renewable-energy development are not contradictory. Even sophisticated electricity systems sometimes have to discard renewable electricity. The difference is that a mature system attempts to minimize curtailment, operates under transparent rules, publishes relevant information and recognizes the financial consequences imposed upon generators.
Sri Lanka should aspire to the same principles.
We should not encourage private investors to build mini-hydropower plants and then place them against the wall through contracts over which they have little negotiating power. We should not encourage households to spend their savings installing solar panels and later make them bear the cost of deficiencies in the electricity network. And we should certainly not discard economically usable indigenous renewable energy without a convincing explanation while scarce foreign exchange is being spent importing fuel.
Sri Lanka should not spill usable water, reject available sunlight and then burn imported fuel to produce electricity that nature was prepared to provide without a fuel bill.
The issue is not whether every unit of renewable electricity can always be accepted. Clearly it cannot. The real test is whether every unit curtailed was genuinely necessary, whether the least-cost and least-wasteful solution was chosen, whether affected producers were treated fairly, and whether the public is permitted to see the evidence.
That is not an unreasonable demand from renewable-energy producers. It is the standard of transparency, accountability and economic discipline that Sri Lanka’s electricity consumers should expect from a modern national power system.
Features
‘Career of Evil’
Tales of Mystery and Suspense 22
by Prof. Rajiva Wijesinha
I return now to J K Rowling of Harry Potter fame, writing under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith about Cormoran Strike. There are several books in this series of off-beat detective stories, featuring a private investigator who lost a leg while serving in the army, and his assistant Robin Ellacott, who had been raped when a student, with lasting psychological effects. Strike himself was the child of a rock band groupie, who had lived a sordid life, her last attachment being to a failed rock star of relatively aristocratic provenance and brutal habits.
Career of Evil is the third in the Strike series, and markedly different from the two books I read previously, the first and the fifth. Those were relatively speaking classic whodunnits, with a range of possible murderers, the solution in the end being quite unexpected but also convincing. The murderers in both cases are unhinged, but this does not become obvious until Strike has put two and two together and revealed a history of aberrant behaviour.
This novel has just a few suspects, all of them bizarre, as is made clear from the moment they are introduced. The case begins with Robin being sent a severed leg from a dead body, or rather it begins with the thoughts of the murderer who seeks revenge from Strike, which it seems he intends to achieve by first terrifying and then killing the woman he calls Strike’s Secretary. He also evinces a horrid desire to mutilate women after abusing them.
The first person Strike thinks of as a possible suspect is a member of a crime syndicate known to have sent body parts through the post, but Strike soon decides that he cannot be the perpetrator, in part because he is not likely to have known that Strike was responsible for his conviction earlier. Rather Strike is convinced it is one of three people who hate him, two of them individuals he helped to prosecute when he was in the investigating unit of the army, the third his step-father whom he suspected had killed his mother.
Unfortunately, Wardle, the policeman assigned to the case, who gets on well with Strike, is convinced it is the first person Strike had suggested, and does not seem interested in the rest, so Strike sets about trying to find out what they are up to.
They are not easy to trace, but Strike eventually tracks them down. He finds Laing’s mother in Scotland, although she is no longer able to provide any useful information. He then tracks down the mother of Laing’s first wife, Rona, whom Strike had found tied up and tortured. It was this incident that led to Laing’s conviction and imprisonment, and ultimately fuelled his hatred of Strike.
He finds the sister of the second suspect, Noel Brockbank, and learns that she and her brother were both abused as children by their stepfather. Brockbank later went on to abuse young girls himself. When Strike went to arrest him over the abuse of his stepdaughter, Brockbank attacked him with a broken bottle, and Strike knocked him out. Brockbank subsequently suffered seizures and was found to have a serious brain injury. Although Strike was initially blamed for the injury, it was later established that Brockbank had fractured his skull in a rugby match before the confrontation. Brockbank was therefore never convicted of the abuse allegations, while Strike was cleared of responsibility for his brain injury.
Strike’s third suspect is his former stepfather, Jeff Whittaker, whom he describes as unutterably filthy and abusive, yet strangely attractive to women. When Strike tracks him down, he finds Whittaker living with Stephanie, a woman who supports him with what she earns as a sex worker. Despite being abused by Whittaker, she remains devoted to him.
In his musings, the killer refers to the woman he lives with as “It”, suggesting that he could be Whittaker, who lives off Stephanie’s earnings. But when Robin is attacked by a man dressed differently from Whittaker, whom she had seen shortly before, it becomes clear that Whittaker is not the killer. Laing, the first of Strike’s three suspects, is also apparently ruled out when Robin sees him on crutches and learns that he is claiming disability benefits. Strike and Robin therefore concentrate on the third suspect, Noel Brockbank, whom they eventually trace to a home he shares with his girlfriend, Alyssa, and her two young daughters. Robin has seen the younger girl and becomes increasingly worried about what Brockbank might do to her. Although Strike has ordered her to leave Brockbank alone, Robin continues investigating because of her concern for the child. She eventually discovers that Brockbank has been sexually abusing the older of the two girls.
Meanwhile, Strike and Robin manage to identify the girl whose leg was sent to the agency. Among the bizarre letters Strike had received in the past was one from a young woman who fantasizes about having her healthy leg amputated and believed that Strike had deliberately had his own leg removed. Robin realises that the girl was suffering from a condition known as body integrity identity disorder, or BIID, in which a person has a persistent desire to have a healthy limb or other body part removed. Strike simply ignored the letter, unaware that the girl was suffering from a recognised condition and that her request was serious. The girl, Kelsey Platt, is subsequently found to have been murdered, and the police discover forged letters apparently written by Strike in response to her.
Wardle has his suspicions of the man married to the girl’s sister, with whom she had lived. Strike thinks this absurd, and it turns out that the man has an alibi for the time of the murder, but Strike does go along when the sister asks to see him and is overwhelmed by the sense of grief she and her husband evince.
The girl is evidently a godsend to the murderer, whose desire to remove body parts could not be controlled. He chops fingers off a girl he almost kills, and then removes the nose and ears of a girl he kills soon afterwards. And previously he had sent Robin the toe of the girl whose leg had been sent earlier.
All this horror can seem over the top, and one may wonder how Rowling could bring herself to wallow in such grim material. But perhaps she felt very strongly about the abuse women were subject to, and though her depiction of the way women played into the hands of abusive men seems excessive, she feels that awareness of that increases the need for support groups and other mechanisms to provide safety nets.
But there is also another side to the novel, namely the relationship between Strike and his partner Robin, which verges on the romantic though neither wishes to move on the matter. Strike feels diffident about taking advantage of his position as her employer, while Robin is engaged to a young man she has known for years, and whom she was virtually engaged to while at university. He has stood by her after the rape, when she could barely face society, and she finally decides to accept him and they are planning their wedding at the beginning of this book. But she finds that he is jealous of Strike, and hence his resentment of her commitment to her work, she breaks off the relationship when they are staying with her parents to finalize arrangements for the wedding.
But they still share a flat, and given the threat looming over her she cannot really move to live by herself. And gradually his misery wears her determination down, and she agrees again to marry him. The novel ends with their wedding, which Strike just manages to get to, causing her to beam, though she ‘had not once smiled in the entire service’.
But they still share a flat, and with the threat hanging over her, Robin cannot really move out and live by herself. Gradually, Matthew’s misery wears down her determination, and she agrees to marry him after all. The novel ends with their wedding. Strike arrives just in time, battered and bloodied after his confrontation with the killer. Robin has not smiled once during the ceremony, but when she sees Strike, she suddenly beams.
Before that, in the kerfuffle caused by Robin’s attempt to rescue the children of the woman Brockbank was living with, Strike sacks her. This turns out to be useful to him, because he subsequently enlists the children’s mother, Alyssa, to help trap the killer, whom he has by then identified as Donald Laing. With Shanker’s help, Strike arranges for Alyssa to pose as his new secretary and lure Laing into the open while he gains access to the flat Laing has been using as a hideout. There he discovers the evidence of the murders, including the severed body parts kept in a refrigerator.
This leads to a dramatic climax in which the murderer turns up. Strike has difficulty subduing him, partly because of his missing leg, but he is helped by Shanker, a man whom his mother, Leda, had taken in as a neglected and
badly beaten boy and who has remained deeply grateful to the family. With the murderer captured and the case effectively wrapped up, Strike asks Shanker to drive him to Yorkshire, where Robin’s wedding is taking place. They arrive while the ceremony is still in progress, and Strike manages to get into the church just as Robin is making her vows. When she sees him, she beams and says “I do” while looking at him rather than at Matthew.
Clearly, this suggests that the relationship between Strike and Robin is far from settled. Indeed, as I discovered when I read the fifth book in the series, the story certainly does run and run.
Features
Ananda Ganegoda: Pioneer in popularising Sinhala music
by Dr Upul Wijayawardhana
It was with a great sense of sadness that I received the news about the death of Ananda Ganegoda at the age of 80 years; the last of the famous industrialist Ganegoda brothers to depart. Ananada was a businessman par excellence but he ought to be remembered specially for his outstanding contribution to popularising Sinhala music by founding the music label Singlanka in 1980. Unfortunately, I lost touch with him, having seen him only once since I left Sri Lanka in May 1988. As I mentioned in my article on statins (Cholesterol lowering statins: Scope for use widens – The Island; 18 September) I have met some remarkable people in my practice of medicine and Ananda was certainly one of them.
The Ganegoda brothers were actually two sets of first cousins though they worked as a single family. Nandajeewa, Sumanalatha, Wimalajeeva, Karunajeewa and Ratnajeeva were the children of Jineris Ganegoda whilst Chandrasiri, Jinadri and Ananda were the children of Jineris’ younger brother Johanis. Sadly, it seems to have been forgotten by many that the Ganegoda brothers were instrumental in changing our export economy by starting garment factories in 1954, one of the first groups of non-traditional exports. According to a family post on Facebook, the visionary leader was Wimalajeewa, who started Noortex, Mayura, GIL and Eurolanka garment factories. Others followed suit and they presided over a vast business empire.
My first contact was not with Ananda but Karunajeeva, if my memory serves me right. After a consultation and a friendly chat, he invited me to a factory visit, which I readily agreed to. He took me to one of the factories in Ratmalana and I was very pleasantly surprised with the high standards maintained in the factory including workers’ welfare. I was able to taste the delicious food served to the workers. The icing on the cake was his measuring me out for shirts and trousers which I wore for a very long time!
Maybe around late 1983 or early ‘84, Ananda ‘channelled’ me for a consultation in the Central Hospital for chest pain and was accompanied by his wife, Nandani. I noted that, in addition to the cigarette smell, he had heavy nicotine staining of fingers. After having ensured that his pain was not cardiac, I tore into him stating, “What is wrong with you? You are among the Sri Lankan businessman doing well and you seem determined to commit suicide with chain smoking,” Then I started wondering whether I had been too blunt, but Ananda said “Dr, Thank you very much. I will stop smoking” and his calm response took me by surprise. On a subsequent social occasion, Nandani whispered in my ear that he had an occasional ‘secret smoke’ and when I encountered, Ananda said “Dr, hari amarui” but promised he would give up completely. I do not know whether he did so but the significant reduction of consumption, hopefully, contributed to his longevity.
I met him last in 1995, in the role of a peacemaker when he was in open conflict with a close relative of mine. I pleaded with him to stop the battle, pointing out that one of his nieces was being courted by the son of my relative. Though shocked, he promised to make peace.
Ananda’s crowning achievement was the founding of Singlanka which made Sinhala songs accessible to the masses. Those of us, old enough to remember, know how difficult it was to listen to music. As a child, I had to go to the village Community Centre to listen to the radio, which is in utter contrast to what is happening today. With just a click on the smartphone anyone can listen to music of any choice, anytime, anywhere as long as you are connected to the internet! Recording with the ability to playback, started with the Phonograph invented by Thomas Edison in 1877, Vinyl records being available from the early twentieth century. They came in various speeds and sizes but needed cumbersome players.
The real breakthrough came in 1963, when the Dutch company Philips introduced the Compact Cassette with more convenient players. Singlanka gave everyone the opportunity to listen to their favourite artists on Compact Cassettes. When the Compact Disc format, developed jointly by Philips and Sony, released in 1983, gathered momentum, Singlanka too moved to this format but most of us are still in possession of Singlanka cassettes. I still occasionally listen to Nanda Malini’s “Pavana”, which has become relevant because of the recent death of Nanda Malini and the ascent of JVP to power, but that is another story.
Most of our famous singers, including the greats like Amaradeva and Nanda Malini, owe at least a significant part of their fame and fortune to Singlanka, which was Ananda’s brainchild. Looking at the discography of Singlanka is like looking at a list of all favourite singers. In addition, Ananda gave the opportunity to the less known in the field of music also to showcase their talent, the best example being Carlo Fonseka’s Calochita Gee, which was a compilation of songs sung by various artists to the lyrics and melodies of Carlo. Who would have imagined multi-talented Carlo having musical creativity as well!
As for me, one event illustrated his generosity and his sense of gratitude. When Dr N J Wallooppillai retired, and I succeeded him as Cardiologist, I arranged for an international conference “Cardiology Update”, which was held on 6th and 7th of June 1985 at Galadari Meridien Hotel, culminating in a banquet. When I rang Ananda about this, he immediately offered to sponsor music for the evening and arranged for Patrick Denipitiya Combo to play and Ivor Dennis, Indrani and Sisira Senaratna to sing. It was a memorable evening, with plaudits from attendees, though we did not have an opportunity to rehearse. I compeered and we selected the songs as we went on. When Indrani wanted to sing Gaya Geethayan I had to stop as it was a Hindi tune and Indians were in the audience! My wife Primrose joined Ivor Dennis to duet “Olu Pipila Wela Lela Denawa”. We ended the banquet with Ivor Dennis singing, and the audience joining, the patriotic song Dakuna, Negenahira, Batahira, Uturada, Eka Kodiye Sevene thanks to Ananda. I am eternally grateful to him.
May Ananda attain the Supreme Bliss of Nibbana!
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