Features
Frenzied feeding of fish and more jungle tales
by Walter. R. Gooneratne
(Continued from last week)
About 5 pm we witnessed something we had never seen before. The river came alive with fish, mainly godaya or grey mullet, dashing upriver, and sometimes leaping in the air, followed by a shoal of koduwa or estuary perch (Latef calcarifer) in a frenzy of feeding. Behind this trail of turmoil followed a small dingy with an outboard motor. In it were the late Dr. Douggie Zilva and another, trolling a line. We heard that the other occupant of the boat was Mr Phillip K. Crowe, the American ambassador who later wrote the book, Diversions of a diplomat in Ceylon on his jungle experiences.
Garuwa told us that this phenomenon occurs not only in the river but also in the two lagoons, Itikala and Yakala Kalapuwa. Even when the mouths of the lagoons are closed. the landlocked koduwas start their frenzied dinner at about 5.30 pm and stop as abruptly at about 6 pm. I witnessed this once again at Yakala on a subsequent trip.
I have seen this kind of frenzied feeding twice more, but this was when there were crocodiles feeding on fish. The first occasion was at Katagamuwa tank. Pervey, Simon and his wife Emilda, Mackie and I were camped on the shore of the lake while on a pig-shooting expedition. One morning there were loud splashing noises coming from the take. I rushed out of the tent thinking a herd of elephants was wading across the water. Just then our tracker came rushing up and wanted us to witness this most unusual sight. A group of about 30 to 40 crocodiles had surrounded a shoal of fish, mainly bolas or murrel or giant snakeheads and walaya or cat fish, and tossed the hapless fish in the air so as to align them and swallow head first. I witnessed the same thing once again on Kokkare Villu in Willpattu National Park.
Partly eaten bait
The next morning we rose early and went to inspect the bait. Sure enough, it had been partly eaten by a leopard. However, as only a small portion of it had been consumed, Garuwa said that the bait had probably been found by it only in the morning and the animal would return early to the feast. Leaving the bait undisturbed, we drove on to Kumana tank. Almost in the centre of the tank was a large sambhur stag feeding on probably the yams of the lotus which grew there in abundance. At the sight and sound of the jeep, it galloped across the lake splashing water before it — a spectacular sight.
After breakfast in the camp, we went back to where the bait was and built a hide in the manner I have described earlier. It was about 15 yards from the bait. However, the rear wall of the hide was an abandoned termite mound which was conveniently located.

Prawns and Russell’s viper
Back at camp, Wasthua suggested that we should have prawns for lunch. He gave me the modus operandi. There were clumps of dead and decaying leaves and twigs stranded in the shallow parts of the riverbed. All one had to do was to pick up these clumps and throw them on the shore and gather up the stranded, hopping prawns that were in them. I was by his side watching the demonstration, but as always in those days, I carried my gun with me. Suddenly Wasthuwa saw what he thought was an extra large prawn wriggling in a clump of leaves. He lifted up what he thought was a king-sized prawn, when he let out a yell, polonga (viper) and ran for dear life. I immediately shot the Russell’s viper which he had pulled out of the water. He was still shivering from fright when I went up to him. Having lived all his life in the jungle, he declared that this was his most terrifying experience. He said that he had once been chased by a wild elephant which had snatched the towel from his shoulder, but that experience was not half as terrifying as this one.
Some years later I came with Mr. Lyn de.Alwis to Kumana on an expedition to collect animals for the zoo. On that occasion, Wasthua accompanied us, and was astounded at the ease with which the staff of the zoological gardens captured deadly snakes, such as cobras and vipers.
Leopard returns
We left camp early at about 4.45 pm for the evening’s adventure with the leopard. Garuwa insisted that the ladies remain in camp, much to their disappointment. Having arrived where the bait was, we found it undisturbed. Spreading out the ground-sheet on the floor of the kotuatte (hide), we sat down on it as comfortably as possible and started our vigil.
Till about 5.30 the jungle was comparatively quiet. Shortly after, a mongoose walked up gingerly, and having checked all was clear, started to feed on the carcass. A few minutes later, the jungle folk started their calls, warning everyone that a leopard was on the prowl. The first was the bark of a muntjak or barking deer. This was followed shortly after by the alarm calls of a troop of langur monkeys. Soon the jungle was alive with calls from more monkeys as well as spotted deer. Obviously the leopard did not bother to conceal himself, as he knew that he had a ready made feast awaiting him.
Suddenly the jungle fell silent and the mongoose scurried away. Garuwa covered the peepholes and signalled to us to be quiet. Two minutes later the tearing of flesh and crunching of bones were clearly audible. A little more time was given for the leopard to settle down. Garuwa then gently opened the peepholes and signaled Ivor to shoot. He was using my shotgun. After what appeared to be a long time, Ivor fired. We heard an animal dashing away into the jungle beyond. We checked to see if there were signs of injury to the animal. Ivor was thoroughly disappointed when there was none.
Garuwa cheered him up, saying that since the animal was unhurt, he would think that the sound of gunfire was due to thunder and therefore return to the kill. I have seen this happen before. As there was still plenty of light, we decided to continue our vigil.
Ferocious elephant
Garuwa had warned us that there was a vicious elephant in these parts and it had attacked a number of people recently. As if in answer to his warning, there suddenly was loud trumpeting of an elephant to our right. As seen through the peephole that covered the track leading to the tank, was a huge elephant, waving its trunk and eyeing us menacingly. Garuwa and I shouted at it in unison. The infuriated animal trumpeted and dashed off into the scrub jungle to our left and a little way behind the bait. From there it made squealing noises and made short rushes at our hide. At our shouts, it would stop and thrash the bush, uttering its squealing noises all the time. Garuwa thought it meant business and decided to beat a hasty retreat. We made an exit through the rear of the hide, over the termite hill, to the jeep which was parked a short distance away.
We made a dash to the camp and safety, though on the way another elephant made a short but abortive charge in the wooded part of the track. When the ladies heard our story, they were not so annoyed that they had been left behind.
As the moon was quite bright, Wasthua suggested that we have a swim in what he said was a clear rock pool lower down the river. The pool was indeed a lovely one, glistening like silver in the bright moonlight. Having returned to the camp quite refreshed, I inquired from Garuwa whether the pool had a name. Of course, he answered, it was called Thummini Gala or Three-death-rock, since three persons had been killed there by crocodiles. I berated him for putting us in such danger. A sundowner was followed by dinner and bed where we were lulled by the persistent call of a nightjar.
Leopard returns again
Early next morning we went to see if the leopard had returned to the kill. The sight that met us was unbelievable. The kotuatte (hide) had been smashed to smithereens, and the termite mound flattened to the ground by the elephant. We thanked our lucky stars for our miraculous escape. However, the leopard had returned to the bait and finished off quite a bit of it. Garuwa was sure it would return as there was quite a lot of flesh left. He set about building a new hide a few yards from the old one and to its left.
We then went bird watching to the villu. There was a large variety of them, mostly aquatic birds, with nests and hatchlings in them. They included spot-billed pelican, painted stork, ibis, spoonbill, and several species of egrets, cormorants, Indian darters, shags, whistling teal, grebes, white-breasted and stork-billed kingfishers and pond herons. A few crocodiles were also seen cruising about in the villu, and a sounder of wild boar was grubbing about on the far side of the villu. A bath in jungle rivers is always most refreshing. After a glass of chilled beer, and a chicken-curry lunch, we retired for a short siesta as we had to be up early in preparation for the evening’s adventure.
After previous evening’s happenings, the ladies were not keen on accompanying us. At about 4.30 pm, Garuwa, Wasthuwa, Ivor and I left for the hide. Having made ourselves as comfortable as possible in the cramped conditions, we settled down to our vigil. By 5.30 the mosquitoes descended on us in their buzzing hordes.
Having been undisturbed the previous night, the leopard, as predicted by Garuwa, was coming early to the banquet, as evidenced by the chorus of alarm calls by the jungle community. The first was a cacophony from the langur monkeys. This was followed shortly after by the calls of peafowl and spotted deer. At 6.05 pm the noise of tearing flesh and crunching of bones came from the site of the bait. Our prize was at his meal, and too engrossed in it to notice the danger he was in.
Garuwa cautiously uncovered his peephole, and peered through it. I was behind him and saw the leopard lying down and feeding. Garuwa now silently uncovered Ivor’s peephole too and motioned him to shoot. Soon a shot rang out and the leopard was felled by the impact of the SG slugs, and there was no further movement from it. We waited awhile, threw some sticks at it and as there was still no movement, we knew the animal was dead. It was a young male in its prime. Ivor was jubilant with his trophy.
We hove it onto the bonnet of the jeep and drove back to camp in triumph. There were congratulations for Ivor on his trophy. Kadisara stroked the animal in admiration. After a bath there were more celebrations. Garuwa and Wasthua were given a double dose of their “cup that cheers”.
(To be continued next week)
(Excerpted from Jungle Journeys in Sri Lanka edited by CG Uragoda)
Features
Combining local resources,traditional knowledge and science to build a food-secure Sri Lanka
World Food Day 2026: Innovating today for a better food future
by Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
What will be on the Sri Lankan dinner table ten years from now? Will our children be able to get nutritious food at a price their families can afford? Will farmers be able to grow enough despite changing weather and rising costs? And how much of the food we produce will actually reach the consumer, instead of being lost or wasted along the way?
These questions can’t wait. A farmer faces unpredictable weather. A family faces rising food costs. Fruit goes unsold after a good harvest. Some children do not get enough nutrition. The future of food is tied to the future of Sri Lanka itself.
World Food Day 2026 is a chance to look beyond the immediate problems and ask whether we can build a food system that feeds our people well, gives farmers better opportunities, protects the environment and makes better use of what we already have. The answer can be yes, but we will have to think differently.
We are not starting from zero. Sri Lanka has diverse crops, fisheries, traditional food knowledge, indigenous varieties, research institutions, universities and a young generation able to create new solutions. What we need is to bring these together and act. Producing more will not secure our food future on its own. It will depend on how intelligently we produce, process, preserve, distribute and consume food.
Making more of what we already have
Innovation does not always mean inventing something new. Often it means finding better uses for the resources we have.
Sri Lanka grows traditional rice varieties, kurakkan, green gram, cowpea, jackfruit, breadfruit, cassava, sweet potato, coconut and palmyrah. All of them have great potential for modern, nutritious, value-added foods. Jackfruit and breadfruit can be made into flour and other convenient products. Traditional rice varieties can go into new foods that suit changing consumer needs. Palmyrah, with its strong cultural heritage, can create new income through better processing, packaging, quality assurance and market development.
The aim is to connect our traditional food knowledge with modern consumer needs and technology, while keeping our food heritage.
Stop wasting the food we produce
Reducing food loss and waste should be a major priority. Seasonal fruits such as mango, banana, papaya and pineapple can be lost in large quantities when production exceeds demand or when storage, transport and processing facilities are inadequate. With suitable technology, these fruits can become dried products, pulps, powders, beverages and other shelf-stable foods.
Agricultural and fisheries by-products are resources too. They could be turned into food ingredients, animal feed, bio-based products and other useful materials, which would move us toward a more circular food economy.
Technology alone is not enough. We need stronger local processing facilities, cold storage, efficient transport, collection centres and market information systems, especially close to where food is produced. Cutting food loss raises the value of what our farmers and fishers already produce.
Nutrition and food safety come first
Food security means more than having enough food. People also need food that is safe and nutritious.
Sri Lanka can develop affordable, nutritious foods from local pulses, grains, vegetables, fruits and fish. Children and other vulnerable groups should get particular attention. Schoolchildren in particular deserve a focus: safe, nutritious, locally sourced products for school feeding programs would support child nutrition, local farmers and domestic food industries at the same time.
Food safety must stay at the centre of food innovation. Good hygiene, quality control, laboratory testing, traceability and appropriate food safety systems are what make new products safe as well as attractive and nutritious.
A food system that can cope with climate change
Climate change is already affecting agricultural production, water availability, crop yields and food prices. We need food systems that can handle changing conditions. That means climate-resilient crops, efficient water use, soil and water conservation, better storage and resource-efficient food processing.
Traditional knowledge matters here. Generations of Sri Lankan farmers have developed practices suited to local climates and ecosystems. Combining that experience with modern science can give us solutions that fit local conditions and are sustainable. Technology alone will not build the future of food. Science, experience and local knowledge together can.
Give young people a bigger role
Sri Lanka’s universities have an important part to play in shaping our food future. Young people should be encouraged to identify real problems in the food system and work on practical solutions in areas such as food waste, sustainable packaging, nutrition, food safety, modernising traditional foods and digital technologies.
A good research project should not always end as a research paper. Where appropriate, research should be supported to move on to products, technologies, enterprises and community solutions. That needs stronger partnerships between universities and industry, along with mentoring, research funding, business support and market connections. If young researchers and entrepreneurs can turn their ideas into viable food innovations, both consumers and producers will benefit.
A pathway designed for Sri Lanka
We do not need to copy food-system models from other countries. We can build a pathway that suits our own resources, culture and needs. It would bring together local resources, traditional knowledge, scientific research, appropriate technology and entrepreneurship, with farmers, fishers, universities, research institutions, food industries, entrepreneurs and policymakers working side by side.
The goal goes beyond selling raw materials. We need to create more value, reduce waste, improve nutrition, generate jobs and strengthen rural livelihoods. This matters especially for small and medium-scale food enterprises, which can drive local economic development when they get the right technical, financial and market support.
The choices we make today
The food future will not create itself. It will be shaped by what we grow, what we research, what we process, what we consume and what we choose not to waste.
So, the question for World Food Day 2026 is this: what can we do today so that every Sri Lankan has safe, nutritious, affordable and sustainable food tomorrow?
The answers are already around us, in our farms, fisheries, food businesses, universities, laboratories and communities. We have the resources, the traditional knowledge, the scientific expertise and talented young people. What we need now is to connect them and act.
A better food future begins with the choices we make today.
Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
Senior Lecturer, Department of Biosystems Technology, Faculty of Technology, University of Ruhuna
Features
20th Anniversary of Digampathana blast – the day Sri Lanka Navy cried
By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defence Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan
The Digampathana suicide truck attack on 16th October 2006 remains the deadliest single strike in Sri Lanka Navy history, leaving scars that time cannot erase.
It was a seemingly ordinary Monday morning on 16 October 2006, but the calm of that day would soon be shattered in a way none of us could have imagined. As the Commandant of the Naval and Maritime Academy and Flag Officer Commanding Naval Fleet at Trincomalee, I was aware that a number of my cadets were travelling that morning, part of a convoy of fifteen buses carrying naval personnel from Trincomalee, Colombo, and other bases, heading toward Dambulla to rendezvous with another group. The convoy also included trucks and escort vehicles, a routine movement planned and coordinated with the army to ensure the roads were clear. The morning started quietly. Some personnel greeted friends, handed over their weapons, or strolled to a nearby tea shop. It all seemed so ordinary—too ordinary for what would come next.

Sri Lanka Navy sunk LTTE Ships carrying arms, ammunition and warlike materials thousand miles away from Sri Lanka in Indian Ocean in September and October 2007.
By late morning, both convoys had reached the small ground at Digampathana, near the Sigiriya junction, and personnel mingled briefly, unaware that a carefully orchestrated act of terror was waiting. Then, suddenly, an empty half-truck veered directly into the convoy. It exploded with a ferocity I can still recall as if it were yesterday. Nuts, bolts, and high explosives tore through the air. Pandemonium erupted instantly. I later learned that 107 of our naval personnel were killed on the spot and another 153 critically injured. The scene was indescribable—bodies scattered, vehicles mangled, personal effects strewn across the ground. I remember later hearing that the head of the suicide bomber was recovered more than 100 meters away from the blast, a grim testament to the sheer force of the explosion.
I was in my office at the Naval and Maritime Academy when my mobile phone rang. A young midshipman from the 21st intake called, his voice trembling: “Sir, there was a huge explosion at the convoy point! Many are dead … my batch mate Wijesundara is among them.” I immediately jumped into my jeep with my escort Chief Petty Officer and driver and rushed to Digampathana, relying on every ounce of my driving skill to reach the scene. The journey, which usually took little more than an hour, felt endless that day, each passing mile weighed down by dread.
When I arrived, I was confronted with a sight that no training can prepare you for. The injured were being rushed to Dambulla Hospital, where doctors and nurses worked tirelessly, improvising in ways that saved lives despite the overwhelming chaos. I went back to the site after visiting the hospital. The remains of our naval personnel were scattered across the ground, and someone had begun collecting weapons and protective gear. I immediately contacted Surgeon Rear Admiral Nico Jayasekara and received his instructions: collect all body parts in separate bags and transport them to the Trincomalee Naval Hospital mortuary. This gruesome work had to be done with care and dignity, and it filled the icebox in my vehicle. Through DNA testing initiated by Rear Admiral Nico, we were able to identify every naval personnel lost that day, bringing some closure to grieving families.
The Navy Commander at the time, Vice Admiral Wasantha Karannagoda, was devastated. I had worked closely with him and knew how deeply he cared for his men. He ensured that the fallen were honoured with full ceremonial naval funerals at Welisara Naval Base, attended by families and comrades. Sixty-seven funerals were conducted in a single day—a number that still haunts me.
The Digampathana attack remains the largest single loss of naval life in our history. It was a day of sorrow, but also a day that reinforced our resolve. The tragedy galvanized the Navy to target the LTTE Sea Tiger wing with renewed determination and reshaped our maritime operations forever. Every time I think of that day, I remember not just the lives lost, but the courage, professionalism, and dedication of those who survived, those who treated the injured, and those who ensured the fallen were honored properly. May the souls of our naval hero’s rest in peace, their sacrifice guiding us and inspiring generations of naval personnel to come.
Features
‘Murder at Whitby Abbey’
Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 24
I was intrigued by the title of a book I found in a book drop at the condominium of a friend, Murder at Whitby Abbey, and I brought it home with me though I will not be able to return it in the near future. It was described on the cover page as ‘a standout in the crowded medieval mystery field’, though I fear I do not know of other books in this field, apart from the Cadfael series, which I have dealt with earlier.
The book, by Cassandra Clark, is set during the reign of Richard II and has as a backdrop his precarious position, which led to his being replaced, and murdered, by his cousin Henry, who reigned as Henry IV. It is a gloomy book, the action taking place in the twelve days of Christmas leading up to the Epiphany. And the gloom is pervasive, even though this is supposed to be a time of festivity, with mummers performing, and many of those in the guest house where the heroine stays going to town to enjoy themselves, with much drinking and much music, which also fills the guesthouse.
The heroine Hildegarde is a nun, sent to try to acquire a relic being sold by Whitby Abbey, though this was also a penance set by the Abbot of the monastery that governed her abbess because she had had sex with a man. Soon after she and her companions reach the Abbey set high on a cliff, she finds that there are other bidders, and soon suspects that the hierarchy, not perhaps the Abbot who seems a weakling, but his rapacious bursar, is determined to make money, and not above creating false relics to sell to several aspirants.
After Hildegarde and her Cistercian companions – Whitby is a Benedictine Foundation – two monks, Gregory and Egbert, and a young priest Mark, reach the abbey, they find that Aelwyn, a monk they had met on their way to the guesthouse had died. This was in the apple store, and they realize, when they find the surplices of novices stuffed into the air vents, that he had been left to suffocate in the overwhelming scent of apples.
The Cistercians are asked to look into the death, perhaps because they are likely to get no cooperation from the Abbey folk, but perhaps because those in charge are keen to know what happened. And the infirmarer, an old monk, suggests Hildegarde talk to a man called Edred who worked for the bursar, and had been a friend of Aelwyn’s. But Edred too is killed, before he can keep an appointment he had made with Hildegarde, drowned in a pool near the farmhouse of the Abbey.
Meanwhile tensions arise between the fisherfolk and the abbey for the bursar wants to charge them for using the beach that technically belongs to the abbey to dry their fish and their nets. This leads to physical battles, when the guards used by the abbey, under the command it seems of the bursar whose determination to make money is not resisted by the abbot and the prior, try to storm the area where the fishermen live.
Hildegard finds out more about what had happened through two youngsters, one of whom Torold is the son of Aelwyn by a woman who worked as a prostitute for a cartel, and with whom Mark fell in love. The other works on the farm and had seen Edred meet someone near the pool, after which that someone left the place by himself. And the boy had also found in the pool a sort of dagger with the seal of the abbey.
He and his dog, and Torold who follows her, rescue Hildegarde from a man at arms who has waylaid her and tries to rape her earlier. Escaping into the abbey she was nearly been raped then by the bursar, but she managed to escape, in the process setting fire to him and the muniments room, which led, when he was rescued, to the discovery of a box with the money he said had been stolen, blame being cast on both Aelwyn and Edred.
Matters come to a head when the fisherfolk try to storm the abbey, being resisted by the men at arms stationed on the towers. But then Hildegarde realizes that behind the murders was the bursar’s clerk, whom she pursued to the cathedral. There is great drama then as she escapes from him when he tries to kill her, and then from the man at arms who had tried to both rape and kill her, but they both fall from the scaffolding she had climbed, the latter coming from a tower where he had been stationed.
Both of them think they run the rapacity of the abbey, the latter claiming to work for the nobles opposed to Richard, who is presented throughout the book as devoted to his subjects, not to power or money. But though the villains die, the bursar continues, having got over the hysteria the fire had caused and his acknowledgment then of guilt – and though the abbot and the prior seem less vicious, whether they will be able to assert themselves is questionable.
Before the climax, when the others in the guesthouse were leaving, Hildegarde found that two of them were in possession of the relic, for which they seem to have paid well. Hildegarde herself had made a derisory offer, but before she leaves the abbot gives her the relic, perhaps in gratitude for what she and her fellow Cistercians had discovered, the abbey having made as much money as it needed and more from the gullible other buyers.
Mark’s inamorata is saved from the stews because she moves in with Edred’s widow whom the bursar had thrown out of the rooms he occupied when her husband was found dead. Hildegarde had paid for lodgings, in a house run by the man who ran the brothels, but he had a kindly side and was going to finance them to make nets for the fishermen.
So, the Cistercians set off for their home as swiftly as they can to get there on the day of the Epiphany, having stopped en route to pray for King Richard whose birthday it was.
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