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Falling leaves – an autobiographical memoir of a high achiever

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by LC Arulpragasam

(We begin excerpting today sections of an anthology of memoirs of LC Arulpragasam,
who at over 95-years of age is among the last surviving members of the old Ceylon Civil Service.
This introduction backgrounds his life and career)


I was born on November 5, 1927 to a Jaffna Tamil, Christian family. My father was Dr. A. R. Arulpragasam, a government medical doctor, and my mother was Mrs. Bertha Arulpragasam. I had three siblings: Dr. A.C. Arulpragasam, FRCS (Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons), Ms. Aruljothi (Bartlett) Arulpragasam (M.A. Educn) and my younger brother Jega Arulpragasam, a Computer Engineer. I was in the Ceylon Civil Service (CCS) for 10 years. I then joined FAO (the Food and Agricultural Organization of the United Nations) in 1962 and retired as Director of Agrarian Reform. I am currently the only surviving member of the family, at the age of 95 years.

I was blessed with ideal parents, a wonderful wife, excellent siblings, caring children and good friends the world over. I also have been blessed (no merit of mine) with more than my share of worldly gifts. I have tried to nurture these gifts to the best of my ability. I never learnt music but play the piano by ear and listen to a lot of classical music. I have been a pictorial photographer, winning awards at International Exhibitions, and have also designed a Ceylonese postage stamp. I became a passable painter in oils in my middle years and have, in fact, hand-painted the picture of fallen leaves on the cover of these memoirs. I have participated in a number of sports, including athletics (track), rugby, boxing, swimming, tennis, sailing, wind surfing and skiing.

I love the outdoor life, and especially being near water. I owned a canoe as a boy and have wandered down Lanka’s many waterways. I have swum off the beaches of all of Sri Lanka’s coasts and in many different oceans and seas. I have walked over 200 miles through the jungles of the Uva and Eastern Provinces, and also from Okanda in the Eastern Province through to the Yala Sanctuary in the Southern Province. In later years, I have been among the poppy growers in the jungles of the Burma/Thai border, as well as among the former head-hunters of Sarawak and Sabah. I have also been to the game reserves of Kenya, Tanzania, Zimbabwe and Namibia.

I married my classmate at the University, Ms. Lohini Saravanamuttu, whose parents came from the well-known Saravanamuttu and Chitty families. My wife unfortunately passed away in the year 2007, after 56 years of our married life. She was loving, generous, kind and forgiving. It was some time before I realized that I was married to the most decent human being that I have ever encountered in this world.

We have three children: Dr. Shyamala Abeyratne (PhD in Development Sociology), Dr. Jehan Arulpragasam (PhD in Economics) and Ms. Anjali Arulpragasam Ashley (Attorney-at-Law, Harvard University). They have all done well in their respective professions; but more importantly, they have turned out to be caring human beings, thanks to the example of their mother.

I went to Royal Prep and then to Royal College, Colombo: the latter from 1939-1946. I was fortunate to win many prestigious prizes at Royal, including the Dornhorst Memorial Prize for the Best All-Rounder and was also made Head Prefect of Royal College. I was also head of the Cadet Corps in Royal College, in command of 60 cadets, the highest rank a schoolboy could attain. In fact, my name figured the most number of times in the history of the school (for the greatest number of prestigious prizes won) engraved on the marble rolls of honour that adorn the walls of Royal College hall – this record has probably been beaten by now.

I was also active in sports, being Athletics Captain of Royal College and awarded College Colours in Athletics (Track) and Rugby, while also being a member of the House boxing, cricket and tennis teams. Having passed the SSC and HSC in the First Division (with ‘A’ in all four subjects at the HSC), I also passed first in the whole country in all three subjects offered at the University Entrance Examination (English, History and Political Science) and was offered the University Entrance Scholarship in respect of each of them.

I chose the scholarship in Political Science, although there was no degree in that subject at that time. It was a ‘sub’ of the degree in Economics (a subject that I hated back then); but I took the economics course for its political science ‘sub’ because of my passionate interest in the behavioral sciences. The degree course in Sociology began to be offered in the next year. I would have taken it, if it had been offered in my year.

My university career did not amount to much. The ‘problem’ was that I fell in love with my wife-to-be from the first day that we met at the University. I chased her unavailingly for the better part of two years. In my final year, we became an established couple, and I was able to return belatedly to my studies, passing first in my batch, but failing to get a first class. In the meantime, I pursued my sport interests and was awarded University Colours in Athletics (Track), Rugby and Boxing and was made Athletics Captain of the Ceylon University.

I was also the holder of two All-Ceylon Athletics (track) records in the 4 x 440 yards relay (with two different teams, in two different years) while still at the University: this was due to the merit of my relay team-mates rather than to me. I was also a strong swimmer, probably the best in Royal College and the University in my time; but unfortunately there were no Swimming Colours, either at Royal or in the University at that time. In fact, neither institution had a swimming pool in those days.

My career ambition was to be an academic and researcher. Although appointed as Assistant Lecture in Political Science for two years, there were no further openings in my field. Having also passed first in the batch in the Sociology degree, I was promised a post of Assistant Lecturer in Sociology by Professor Bryce Ryan, the Head of the Sociology Department. Unfortunately, since the post was not advertised that year or the next, I had no option but to sit for the CCS Exam, which was only three months away. I had just returned from a three-month trek in the jungles of Bintenne on a sociological survey of the Veddas. I was sick with severe dysentery contracted in the jungle. I had only three months to study for the CCS exam – and was only able to cover one-third of the syllabus. It was with great luck that I managed to pass first (in the whole country) in the CCS exam of that year.

The Sociology post in the University was subsequently advertised and I applied for it from the Civil Service – which was not done at that time, because the Ceylon Civil Service was considered more prestigious, with a higher salary. Only one post was advertised. The head of the Sociology Dept, Prof. Ryan insisted that I be appointed to that post; in fact, at an appointment meeting, he offered to resign if I was not appointed. He insisted that I would be the best candidate to lead the Sociology Department in the future.

It is worth noting that I was recommended for that one post by the Head of the Dept. of Sociology (Prof. Ryan) over Mr. S.J. Tambiah, who ultimately headed the Dept. of Social Anthropology at Harvard University in America. I turned down the appointment because Dr. Ralph Pieris was appointed to that one post. In the end, they created three posts (in order to get over Prof. Ryan’s objection that he would resign if I were not selected for the post advertised). Actually, this was part of a larger fight: whether the school of Sociology in Ceylon was going to be empirical research-oriented or not. I turned down the post on Prof. Ryan’s advice; he too resigned soon after.

In a curious manner, I was also later (in 1956) selected for a post as understudy to the Marketing Manager of Lever Bros. (Unilevers), on a starting salary that was six times higher than my salary in the Ceylon Civil Service (CCS). I would have thus become Marketing Manager of the biggest commercial firm in Ceylon at the age of 29 years. This would have broken a glass ceiling of ‘British only’, as these top posts were reserved only for the British. I would have become the first Ceylonese to attain a Manager/Director level post in a big British company at that time. However, given my interests in economic and social development, I turned down that job offer too. I must also admit that I was shamed into turning down this offer because my father, who had always stressed service before self, who wrote to me deprecatingly, saying: “I cannot believe that any of my sons would stoop to filthy lucre like this”!

So, I decided to stick to the Ceylon Civil Service. It was a decision which I have never regretted because I was able to see and hear real people. I was fortunately able to navigate my own path within the CCS, taking only development-type jobs and specializing only in the agriculture sector. The latter was partly due to my own interests, but mainly because I felt that I could contribute most in that sector, since it provided a living to 70 percent of the national population at that time.

Ultimately in 1960/61, from my post in the Department of National Planning, I wrote a policy paper calling for a fundamental change in agricultural policy from our uneconomic policy of land development to a forward-looking policy of agricultural development. This was strongly opposed by both the Minister of Finance and Planning (Mr. Felix Bandaranaike) and the Hon. Prime Minister (Mrs. Sirimavo Bandaranaike), who believed fervently in past policy, which had been with us since pre-independence. I spent about three weeks persuading them to accept the (opposite) policy changes.

I argued for a policy of agricultural intensification, to take advantage of the HYVs (High Yield Varieties) that were becoming available at that time. I had in effect written a strategy for agricultural development in 1960, based on the coming green revolution and a policy to support it, given our smallholder agrarian system. The Prime Minister called a high-powered meeting of the Minister of Agriculture and Lands, Mr, C.P. de Silva, his Permanent Secretary and all his Departmental heads to discuss and agree upon a way forward. Mr. C.P. de Silva hotly contested each policy proposal – and even challenged the figures that I was using.

His argument collapsed when I showed that they were from his own Ministry’s reports. The meeting went on for two days, with Mr. C.P. de Silva shouting at me. In the end, he subsided, agreeing to all the policy changes that I was seeking. His departmental heads agreed with me – since I had worked with them on my policy proposals. He agreed even to publishing them all in what became the Short-Term Implementation Programme of 1961.

But in little over a week, the Minister, Mr. C.P. de Silva broke his agreement and threatened the Prime Minster that he would resign from her Government and cross the floor with 14 of his supporters, causing the fall of her Government. The Prime Minister had to give in. She called me to her office to thank me for my hard work and apologized to me because she had not been able to politically push my proposals through. As a result, the country missed the green revolution by 10 years!

I had fought the Minister of Finance and Planning, the Hon. Prime Minister and the Minister of Agriculture and Lands, all of whom had been strongly against my proposals. We had struggled to arrive at the agreed changes in agricultural policy. But now all my work had come to naught – for political reasons. I had taken the risk of venturing into the field of policy – because I had seen the possibility of Ceylon becoming self-sufficint in rice. May be, I presumed too much!

Now I had nowhere to go – except to purely administrative jobs. So, I decided to apply for development jobs abroad. However, being persuaded by the Prime Minister, I agreed to come back to Sri Lanka when and if she was in a position to carry out the policies we had agreed upon. Fortunately for me and my children, she was never able to fulfill her side of the agreement, because her government was voted out of office

I was appointed to the UNDP, New York, as Programme Officer, and in quick succession to a post with the FAO. Choosing the FAO job because of my interest in agricultural policy, I resigned from the CCS in 1962.

In my FAO capacity, I managed to set up the Agrarian Reform and Training Institute (now renamed the Kobbekaduwa Institute) in Ceylon, with FAO assistance. Later in Rome in 1970, I was appointed Senior Economist for Asia and the Far East in the Economic Analysis Division. In 1976, I was appointed Chief of the Land Tenure and Agrarian Reform Service at the Director level, being the youngest to be appointed to that level at that time. However, my career in FAO became blocked thereafter for various political reasons.

FAO at that time was highly compartmentalized into specialized technical fields, while the organization itself was becoming more bureaucratic, autocratic and politicized. Although the technical directors were highly qualified, they had PhDs from countries that had the opposite set of factor proportions to the small farmers of the developing world. They were accustomed to having plenty of land and access to capital, thus choosing strategies that best utilized these resources. But these are what around 70 percent of the farmers of the developing world did not have.

Hence, by a strange quirk of history, the most qualified FAO experts were the least qualified to help the farmers of the developing world. They were trained in countries which had the opposite factor proportions to those that the developing countries had. They were now called upon to cater to small farmers with little land, no capital, but with surplus labour.

Although completely boxed-in within the field of agrarian reform, my knowledge of agricultural problems and policies was much broader and deeper, due especially to my field work and agricultural planning experience in Sri Lanka. I felt strongly, for example, that FAO had no technologies nor improved farming systems for small and subsistence farmers, who make up some 70 percent of all farmers in the developing world. Fed up and frustrated, I simply handed in my resignation to FAO in 1987- two years before my time – and just walked away.

This represented for me, the greatest failure in my life, since with this impetuous decision, I had lost my only chance to change the policies of the international organizations relating to the farmers of the developing world. As in Sri Lanka, where I took on the Minister of Agriculture, the Minister of Finance and Planning and the Prime Minister herself, I should have taken on the Director-General of FAO. I had written a policy paper arguing that FAO’s policy towards the farmers of the developing countries was all wrong. But instead of confronting the Director-General with it, I chickened out (on the advice of the Director du Cabinet). I resigned from FAO in ‘surrender’ mode, afraid of the Director-General of FAO – to my lasting regret.

I also regret very much that I did not go to some other development institute to develop my own ideas about small farm development and publish them. I chickened out of this too, because I would have had to go to another country (England or Norway – where there were research institutes) and set up house alone there. Because of this rash decision to resign from FAO without confronting the Director-General, I went into a deep (mental) depression – because I had failed in my duty. I buried myself in international consulting. I found that I was much in demand by IFAD, which was based in Rome.

My main benefit from FAO was that we spent 30 years in Rome, giving our children a chance of growing up in Italy, with the advantage of a rich cultural life and fluency in three or four European languages. I also had a piece of land by a beautiful lake, where I planted vines and fruit trees, which bore abundantly. We continued to live in Rome for 10 years after I resigned from FAO, during which time I accepted international consultancies for about five months each year, working from home where feasible. I worked in Asia too, where I was able to visit my mother in Sri Lanka. In fact, I was in Sri Lanka when she passed away, following her fervent wish.

In 1995 my wife and I moved from Rome to Washington D.C., to be close to our children. But one by one, our children took off for international postings outside the USA. Hence, when my wife passed away in 2007, I had no family in Sri Lanka in my old age. So I decided to take up residence with my eldest daughter, in the Philippines.

Unlike other expatriates, my work has brought me regularly to Sri Lanka for nearly 40 years, from 1962 to 2000. This has enabled me to work with different governments over the years, also enabling me to keep in close touch with my friends. I continue these contacts by visiting Sri Lanka for about two months every year. Now that I have reached the age of 95 years, I have had to discontinue my visits to Sri Lanka. I now miss the country of my birth so much!



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Features

Matrimony in crisis: Economic volatility, youth outflow, and changing fabric of Sri Lankan families – I

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by Prof. M. W. Amarasiri de Silva

Sri Lanka’s official crude divorce rate is among the lowest in the world, sitting at roughly 0.15 divorces per 1,000 people per year, which translates to about nine legally finalised divorces, daily, nationwide. However, legal scholars and sociologists emphasise that this figure does not reflect a lack of marital distress or separation. Instead, the low official number is primarily a result of the country’s stringent legal framework, complex judicial procedures, and deep-seated socio-cultural factors that prevent couples from seeking formal legal dissolutions.

A primary driver of the low official rate is Sri Lanka’s fault-based legal framework under general civil law. Unlike jurisdictions that allow “no-fault” divorce or swift mutual consent dissolutions, Sri Lankan civil law requires a petitioning spouse to legally prove specific statutory grounds in court, such as adultery, malicious desertion, or incurable impotence present at the time of marriage. Proving these fault grounds often leads to protracted, emotionally exhausting, and financially draining court battles, discouraging many individuals from pursuing a final decree. Furthermore, personal status matters for Muslim Sri Lankans are governed separately under the Quazi court system via the Muslim Marriage and Divorce Act, which operates under distinct statutory procedures.

Because navigating the formal legal system is so cumbersome and costly, hundreds of couples choose informal separation rather than court litigation. Living apart without legally dissolving the marriage on paper remains a common alternative, meaning official marriage registries undercount the true rate of domestic breakdown. Additionally, strong cultural norms, family expectations, economic dependencies, and social stigma—particularly affecting women—exert significant pressure on spouses to remain legally married even when cohabitation has permanently ceased.

Sri Lanka and other countries

Comparing Sri Lanka, India, and the United States reveals stark contrasts in divorce rates, legal frameworks, and societal attitudes toward marital dissolution. Statistically, Sri Lanka reports an official crude divorce rate of approximately 0.15 divorces per 1,000 people, annually, while India reports a rate of roughly 1 per 1,000. In contrast, the United States records a significantly higher crude divorce rate of around 2.5 per 1,000 people, with roughly 40% to 45% of first marriages ending in divorce. However, these figures reflect distinct judicial mechanisms and cultural expectations rather than a simple measure of marital harmony.

The primary legal distinction lies in the availability of “no-fault” divorce mechanisms. All 50 US.states allow no-fault divorce, enabling either party to dissolve a marriage by citing irreconcilable differences without assigning blame. India occupies a middle ground, where major personal law codes—such as the Hindu Marriage Act—permit divorce by mutual consent, provided the couple undergoes a court-mandated waiting period intended for potential reconciliation. Sri Lanka maintains the most restrictive regime among the three, requiring a petitioning spouse under general civil law to prove specific statutory faults, such as adultery or malicious desertion, through formal adversarial court proceedings.

Pluralistic personal law systems also shape how marital disputes are handled in South Asia compared to North America. Both Sri Lanka and India apply distinct personal status laws, based on religious or ethnic identity, such as Kandyan and Muslim laws in Sri Lanka, or Hindu, Muslim, and Christian personal codes in India. In contrast, the US relies strictly on uniform state civil codes for property division, spousal maintenance, and child custody, eliminating religious adjudication from the legal process.

Official divorce rates in Sri Lanka and India significantly undercount actual marital breakdowns. High legal costs, protracted court battles, and strong social stigma often lead estranged couples in both South Asian nations to choose informal, permanent separation over formal legal proceedings. In the United States, clear statutory procedures for asset distribution and custody arrangements encourage individuals to formally conclude their marriages through the judicial system rather than living in legal limbo.

Unmarried Sri Lankans

Data from the Department of Census and Statistics reveals that the proportion of the population that has never married has risen dramatically to over 40 percent. This shift reflects a major demographic transition characterised by delayed marriages, changing socio-economic priorities, and economic instability that has led many young adults to postpone or forego marriage altogether.

While both men and women are increasingly remaining unmarried, the trend manifests differently across genders due to distinct socio-demographic factors. Men generally marry at an older age than women—with the average age at first marriage rising toward 29 years for men compared to around 25 to 26 years for women. As a result, in younger adult cohorts, a noticeably higher percentage of men remain single at any given time.

Conversely, a different demographic dynamic affects women in older age cohorts. Sri Lanka exhibits a distinct gender imbalance in its total population, with women outnumbering men—there are roughly 93 males for every 100 females nationwide. This imbalance, combined with higher female life expectancy and significant labour migration of men seeking overseas employment, creates a structural shortage of eligible partners for women in certain age groups, contributing to a growing number of women remaining unmarried or living alone in later life.

The marriage expectations and ages by gender can be inferred through matrimonial advertisements in newspapers. Matrimonial advertisements, published in leading Sri Lankan weekend newspapers, offer a revealing look into the country’s shifting demographic trends and evolving marital preferences. These classified sections, traditionally placed by parents or family elders, rather than the individuals themselves, reflect a structured marriage market where personal expectations, economic security, and socio-cultural compatibility intersect.

The age profile of individuals advertised in these columns mirrors the broader national trend toward delayed marriage. For women, the typical age range featured in listings spans from 24 to 32 years, while for men, advertisers generally range between 28 and 38 years. Furthermore, advertisements for individuals in their late thirties, forties, or older have become increasingly common, particularly in notices seeking secondary marriages following a legal divorce or the loss of a spouse. The concentration of listings in older age brackets highlights how higher educational pursuits, career establishment, and economic challenges have pushed marriage further into adulthood.

Horoscope compatibility

Expectations detailed in newspapers emphasise a combination of traditional socio-cultural criteria and modern status indicators. Horoscope compatibility remains a fundamental requirement across a large majority of listings, alongside considerations of caste, religion, and regional background. Personal character is heavily weighted, with advertisements for men frequently specifying a desire for non-smoking, non-drinking partners, while descriptions for women routinely emphasise moral standing, domestic capability, and physical attributes.

Socio-economic standing and professional qualifications serve as primary benchmarks in prospective partner selection. Listings placed by women’s families heavily prioritise male suitors with secure employment in established sectors, such as medicine, engineering, law, management, or government service, alongside evidence of financial stability or asset ownership. Advertisements for men similarly seek educated and career-minded partners, though often balancing professional credentials with traditional family values. Notably, both publications feature a substantial proportion of listings placed by or seeking non-resident Sri Lankans and dual citizens, reflecting the strong pull of foreign residency and international mobility as desirable attributes in prospective matches.

Horoscope matching and dowry expectations in Sri Lankan matrimonial advertisements reflect a delicate interplay between longstanding cultural traditions and modern socio-economic realities. These two elements serve as primary filtering mechanisms during the initial stages of family-mediated matchmaking, helping families gauge spiritual alignment, family background, and long-term economic compatibility.

Horoscope compatibility remains a nearly indispensable prerequisite across a vast majority of Sinhala and Hindu marriage notices. Advertisements routinely include explicit phrases such as “send copy of horoscope with reply” or “astrologically compatible match sought,” underscoring the belief that planetary positions at birth dictate marital longevity, health, and mutual prosperity. Families often consult professional astrologers (nakath karayo) to compare charts (Janma-pathra) before engaging in direct personal meetings. Beyond general alignment, specific astrological conditions—such as Kuja Dosha or planetary placements associated with delayed marriage—are actively declared or sought out to ensure balanced pairings, making astrological clearance the first major gatekeeper in the proposal process.

Dowry expectations

Dowry expectations have undergone a significant transformation in contemporary Sri Lanka, evolving from explicit demands for wealth into subtle indicators of financial security and asset sharing. While direct references to cash or specific dowry amounts have largely disappeared from modern newspaper classifieds due to changing social norms, advertisements routinely signal material contributions through references to family assets. Listings placed by a bride’s family frequently highlight inherited residential properties, land parcels, vehicles, or substantial financial savings, framed positively as background assets rather than a mandatory transaction. Conversely, advertisements placed by grooms’ families often emphasise secure professional income and housing ownership, establishing an expectation of shared socio-economic parity between both lineages.

Ultimately, the portrayal of horoscopes and dowry in matrimonial advertisements illustrates how Sri Lankan families preserve traditional cultural safeguards while adapting to contemporary legal and economic environments. Horoscopes continue to function as an essential spiritual and psychological reassurance of harmony, while evolving dowry practices reflect a mutual investment strategy focused on helping young couples navigate modern economic pressures and establish financial stability.

Digital matrimonial platforms

Digital matrimonial platforms, dedicated matchmaking websites, and social media networks are reshaping traditional matchmaking practices in Sri Lanka. While the core objectives—securing compatible, stable, and family-approved partnerships—remain consistent, the shift to digital infrastructure has decentralised the matchmaking process, giving individuals greater agency while altering how personal data and socio-economic expectations are presented.

Specialised digital matrimony sites, such as Poruwa.lk and Matchmaker.lk, have modernised print classifieds by replacing brevity with structured digital profiles. Unlike newspaper advertisements, which are constrained by line limits and word costs, digital profiles allow candidates, or their families, to upload detailed personal biographies, verified educational certificates, career histories, and multiple photographs. Privacy controls on platforms, like Poruwa.lk, allow users to restrict photo visibility and obscure contact details until a mutual interest is established, offering safety and discretion that public newspaper columns cannot provide.

Social media platforms, particularly dedicated Facebook groups and WhatsApp channels, have democratised proposal exchanges across urban and rural demographics alike. These informal digital groups allow families and self-registering candidates to post notices directly without incurring publishing fees or relying on commercial matchmaking brokers. The interactive nature of social media enables direct messaging between interested parties, reducing the initial lag time typical of postal or phone responses generated by newspaper listings.

Digital matchmaking has also transformed how traditional criteria like horoscopes and dowry assets are handled. Many online platforms integrate digital horoscope software directly into their search filters, enabling automated chart matching before contact is initiated. Similarly, asset preferences are often communicated through structured fields detailing property ownership, foreign residency status, or career mobility, rendering explicit dowry discussions obsolete. By streamlining preliminary vetting, digital platforms allow Sri Lankans, especially young professionals and expatriates, to balance traditional familial expectations with modern efficiency.

Family-mediated marriages

While subtle differences exist in framing, with a popular English weekly in Sri Lanka leaning toward urban, English-speaking, and expatriate circles, and its Sinhala counterpart serving a wider Sinhala-speaking demographic, both mediums demonstrate that family-mediated marriage in Sri Lanka remains deeply anchored in structured compatibility, educational status, and long-term financial security.

Socio-economic factors also drive these decisions differently across genders. For many men, the financial burden of establishing an independent household, securing stable employment, and meeting traditional expectations of financial provision causes prolonged delays in marriage. For women, expanded educational attainment and changing lifestyle expectations mean that marriage is increasingly viewed alongside career goals or personal independence, rather than as an immediate or mandatory life milestone.

The severe economic volatility and escalating inflation experienced in Sri Lanka have acted as direct catalysts in altering traditional family planning and delaying marriage. Establishing a new household requires significant upfront capital, including funding wedding ceremonies, housing deposits, and securing household goods. With sharp rises in the cost of living and persistent real wage stagnation, young adults face immense financial barriers, prompting couples to postpone marriage or avoid formal marital commitments until economic conditions stabilise. (To be continued)

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Features

What nature knows that humanity has forgotten

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Urban development

by Dr Debapriya Mukherjee                                  
Former Senior Scientist
Central Pollution Control Board

Human beings often treat nature as an unlimited storehouse, clearing forests, polluting rivers and degrading soil for immediate gain. Animals and plants, without environmental policies or scientific knowledge, survive through relationships with their surroundings and other forms of life. An elephant needs connected habitats; a bee depends on flowers; a tree supports organisms while drawing nutrients from the soil. Humans can understand these connections, yet too often act as if their consequences did not concern us.

Elephants remind us that habitats cannot survive as isolated islands. Elephants disperse seeds and shape vegetation through feeding. Roads, railway lines, mines and settlements can obstruct their movements, increasing the risk of accidents and encounters with people. An elephant entering a village may reflect not only animal behaviour but also habitat fragmentation or changes in access to food and water. Protecting elephants therefore means conserving the corridors connecting essential habitats, not merely preserving separate patches of forest.

Vultures reveal the value of nature’s unsung services. These scavengers consume carcasses and help remove decaying animal material. India’s vulture crisis, linked particularly to exposure to the veterinary drug diclofenac, showed how a chemical used for one purpose can disrupt a distant ecological process. A creature often dismissed as unattractive may perform a service whose loss has far-reaching consequences.

Bees and bats reveal the biological foundations of food security. Bees pollinate many crops and wild plants. Certain bats also pollinate flowers, disperse seeds or consume insects. Habitat destruction, pesticide exposure and loss of food sources can threaten these contributions. Agricultural success cannot be judged by yield alone; the health of pollinators and the wider landscape also matter.

Frogs can warn us of environmental disturbance. Many amphibians have permeable skin and depend on both aquatic and terrestrial habitats. Some populations are sensitive to pollution, pesticides, habitat loss and disease. Frogs also consume insects and provide food for birds, snakes and other animals. Their decline does not identify a particular pollutant by itself, but it can warrant investigation. A pond may still hold water while losing important elements of ecological health.

Earthworms and termites reveal the living world beneath our feet. Earthworms contribute to soil structure and organic-matter decomposition. Termites recycle plant material and influence soil formation in many environments. Alongside fungi and bacteria, these organisms sustain processes essential to soil health. This matters to agriculture: applying cow dung or vermicompost does not guarantee a good crop if soil conditions and nutrient requirements are unknown. Agricultural inputs should be chosen according to soil properties, water availability and crop needs.

“Elephants remind us that habitats cannot survive as isolated islands. Elephants disperse seeds and shape vegetation through feeding. roads, railway lines, mines and settlements can obstruct their movements, increasing the risk of accidents and encounters with people.” (A file photo by picture by Dilum Alagiyawanna.)

Mangroves

Fig trees and native grasses show why conservation must respect each habitat’s character. Many fig species depend on specialised fig wasps for pollination, while their fruits feed birds, bats and other animals. Native grasses provide food and shelter for insects, birds and grazing animals. Planting trees everywhere is therefore not necessarily ecological restoration. Converting natural grasslands into tree plantations can damage habitats adapted to open landscapes. Conservation must protect the ecosystem suited to each place, not simply increase tree numbers.

Mangroves and wetland plants provide natural protection. Mangroves support wildlife, trap sediments in suitable conditions and can reduce wave energy and coastal erosion. Wetlands store water, provide habitat and cycle nutrients; some also help moderate flooding. Neither can prevent every cyclone or flood, but destroying these systems without assessing their functions may increase risks and the cost of protecting communities.

Nature is not a world of perfect cooperation. Predators hunt prey, plants compete for sunlight, and organisms sometimes harm one another. Its lesson lies instead in interdependence, environmental limits and the consequences of disruption.

Development is often measured through roads built, buildings completed and economic returns. These achievements matter, but the picture is incomplete when ecological damage is ignored or its costs are transferred to other communities. Science enables us to examine impacts before approving projects, protect wildlife corridors before they are severed, test soil before choosing inputs and assess wetlands before filling them. Knowledge, however, protects nature only when it influences decisions.

Nature does not ask humanity to abandon progress. It asks us to distinguish genuine progress from activities that destroy their own ecological foundations. A vulture, frog, bat, termite or fig tree may seem insignificant in isolation; their importance emerges through the processes they sustain.

The living world offers no simple moral sermon, but a scientific truth: a civilisation that neglects the ecological relationships sustaining life ultimately undermines its own future.

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Features

Man Behind the Music: Ananda Ganegoda and Singlanka

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Ananda Ganegoda

A tribute to the man who believed Sri Lankan music deserved the very best

by Vindana Ariyawansa

Some people build companies. Others build institutions that outlive them. When Ananda Ganegoda passed away last week at the age of 81, he left behind something far larger than a business: a cultural landmark whose logo sits on the cassette shelves of countless Sri Lankan homes, and whose songs many of us grew up with without knowing the man who made them possible.

For decades, his name and Singlanka were one and the same. Both stand for the belief that Sri Lankan music deserved the highest standard of quality in its content, its production and its presentation.

“Singlanka: the symbol of excellence in creation and of priceless perfection in finish!”

That was the promise printed in the company’s advertising, and Ananda Ganegoda spent his life trying to keep it.

A friendship that changed a life

In the 1970s, Ganegoda was already a successful businessman from an industrialist family, running enterprises alongside his brothers. Then he met pop singer Milton Mallawarachchi, and the friendship became a turning point.

Through Milton, he came to know many of the country’s most celebrated artistes. He admired them deeply, and they welcomed him into their circle. Before long, the businessman had become something rarer: a patron who supported the country’s artistic endeavours out of genuine love for them.

Worried for the artistes

By the late 1970s the audio cassette had become the most practical way to sell music, and many businessmen rushed into the trade. Ganegoda watched this with concern. He worried about what it meant for singers’ creative and financial independence, and whether the people who made the music would share fairly in its rewards.

At the request of leading artists, he decided to enter music production himself. He did it, by every account, without commercial ambition. His only intention was to serve the artists.

18 March 1980

Singlanka was founded on 18 March 1980 as a limited company. Its founding team was remarkable. Clarence Wijewardana, the celebrated singer and songwriter, joined it. So did the renowned lyricist Kularatna Ariyawansa, who gave up his government job to be part of the venture, and continued to this day as its creative director. Vijaya Ramanayake, owner of the Tharanga record label, took charge of distribution.

Dozens of veteran artists who were close friends of Ganegoda handed over songs they had recorded independently to be released under the new label. Many new songs were recorded under the guidance of Clarence Wijewardana and Vijaya Ramanayake. In April 1980, Singlanka launched with 25 albums at once.

The first cassettes were produced in Singapore and imported. Because Sri Lanka then lacked the facilities to print Sinhala on the covers, the first sleeves carried their titles and information in English. Listeners objected, and the albums were quickly re-released with new covers in Sinhala.

By December 1980, 15 more albums recorded earlier in the year had followed. That same year, the Singlanka recording studio opened in Nugegoda under Clarence Wijewardana’s supervision. Equipped with the latest technology, it produced the country’s first eight-track recordings. Ganegoda invested heavily in it, and with veteran recordist Dayananda Perera at the helm it became the busiest and most respected studio in the country.

One roof, one family

The year 1981 was a landmark for the company. Ganegoda held a strong conviction that artists should not be left at the mercy of a fluctuating cassette market, which made careers unpredictable and unsustainable. If he could give them stability under one roof, he believed, they could give their energy to their art instead of worrying about money.

So, he invited them to join Singlanka, and they came. Amaradeva, Nanda Malini, Victor Rathnayaka, Sanath Nandasiri, Milton Mallawarachchi, Gunadasa Kapuge, Priya Sooriyasena, Sisira Senarathna, Indrani Wijayabandara, Malkanthi Nandasiri, Clarence Wijewardana, Anton Jones, Abeywardana Balasooriya and Niranjala Sarojini became exclusive Singlanka artists. Sunil Edirisinghe, T. M. Jayaratna, Somathilaka Jayamaha, Karunarathna Divulgane, Deepika Priyadarshani, Janaka Wickramasinghe, Rohan Bulegoda and Dayan Witharana joined them later.

Singlanka also produced best-selling albums by H. R. Jothipala, M. S. Fernando, Desmond de Silva, Nihal Nelson and Vijaya Kumaratunga.

The journey was not without heartache. Some ventures did not bear fruit, and it pained him when a few artistes left the label over the years. But the majority stayed, which says something about the man they stayed with.

A company of firsts

Singlanka’s catalogue reads like a record of firsts for Sri Lankan music:

· In April 1981, it released the first film soundtrack on cassette, for Sunil Ariyaratna’s Vajira.

· That year it also released Nanda Malini Live in London, the country’s first live-recorded cassette.

· In 1982, Ganegoda began replicating cassettes in Sri Lanka itself, having previously relied on Singapore. Veteran musician Rohana Weerasinghe left his government teaching post to join the company in 1983.

· In 1983, Prof. Ediriweera Sarachchandra’s iconic play Sinhabahu was released on a double cassette. Noorthi and Nadagam Songs, directed by Punyasena Gunasinghe, followed as another first.

· In 1984, under Sanath Nandasiri’s direction, came Madhubani, the country’s first album of classical instrumentals and songs, launched with a classical concert at Colombo’s Tower Hall.

· The same year, Nanda Malini’s double vinyl album Sathyaye Geethaya was released. Vinyl was not in popular demand at the time, so the experiment was not continued.

· In 1987, one of Ganegoda’s dream projects came true with Dorata Waduma, an album by six talented amateur singers. It introduced the singer Deepika Priyadarshani.

· In 1987, Sansare Api became the first collection of songs written by a member of the clergy, the Venerable Rambukkana Siddhartha.

· In 1989, Dhammapada Geethaya set verses of the Dhammapada to song.

The famous Singlanka logo was designed by Charlie Chang of Singapore. It has since become a timeless emblem of quality Sinhala music. In its first decade alone, Singlanka produced 136 original albums, a remarkable achievement for a company built on original recordings.

A patron of the nation’s culture

Ganegoda’s generosity reached well beyond his own studio. During its first two decades, Singlanka contributed financially to virtually every prominent national artistic event in the country.

In the early 1980s he sponsored concert tours to the United Kingdom for Amaradeva, Sisira Senarathna, Indrani Wijayabandara, Sunil Edirisinghe, Malani Bulathsinhala, Sanath Nandasiri and Malkanthi Nandasiri, carrying Sri Lankan music to audiences abroad.

He supported the first Sarasaviya Film Festival at the BMICH in 1980, the University of Colombo Art Festival, the G. B. Senanayake scholarship at the University of Sri Jayewardenepura, and the Mahagama Sekara Memorial Festival. He supported the Amaradeva felicitation event, the Children’s Books Society’s book exhibitions and prize-givings, the Bandaranaike Memorial Foundation Fund, and the Charles Silva Gunasinghe Memorial Fund. He supported the Vesak Bhakthi Gee Festival of the Lake House Buddhist Society, the “40 Years of Sinhala Cinema” event organised by the film critics and writers’ society, Prof. Sarachchandra’s drama festival, and the Premakeerthi Tribute Festival.

He also helped launch Amaradeva’s Naada Siththam, Dharmasiri Gamage’s Sulan Kurullo, and the concert Mage Swarayayi Obe Ridmayayi by Victor Ratnayake and Premasiri Kemadasa. These are only some of the many occasions on which he quietly gave his support.

More than a company

Today, Ananda Ganegoda’s name and Singlanka are inseparable. Singlanka is more than a record label. It is a cultural emblem of Sri Lanka, one that preserved the country’s musical heritage and identity for a generation and set a benchmark that the industry still looks to.

He began as a businessman who befriended a singer. He became a guardian of Sri Lankan music, giving artists a home, a stage and the security to create. Most of the millions who have hummed those songs may never have known his name. But every time a Singlanka melody plays, his dream is still being heard.

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