Opinion
Heard at the club – II
Casino Kings have been very much in the news lately, but few can compare with our first Casino King, the inimitable, flamboyant, great-hearted Donovan Andree. He made money, and he flung away money. His many acts of kindness and generosity were legion.
About three decades ago, there was this young planter from the South who would sally forth to Colombo the weekend after pay day and have a flutter in Donovan’s ‘Three Clubs Casino’.
One day this planter lost heavily; in fact, his entire salary. Without money even to get back home, he sat in a corner of the casino, head in his hands, the picture of dejection.
Donovan Andree walking in, saw the hapless young man, almost in tears.
“What’s wrong, son?” asked Donovan, and the young planter told him the whole sad story.
“My dear chap,” said Donovan, placing a fatherly arm around the planter’s shoulders, “casinos are not for salaried people like you, they are for people with money to throw away.”
He then instructed the manager of the casino to refund every cent the planter had lost. Then he took the lad to the bar and gave him a few drinks on the house. Finally, he sent for the security officers outside the casino, and told them sternly that the young planter was never again to be allowed inside the casino.
***
My friend Sena is a confirmed bachelor, though many a pretty girl has given him the glad eye, prompting him to say, “It is easy to get married, but staying single is a difficult thing.” He has, however, been looking for the ideal woman for many years. But alas, he hasn’t found her, and now he has given up all hope.
Many years ago, when the local Lions’ Club was celebrating ‘World Services Day’, they distributed food parcels among the poor. My friend Sena was in charge of one such distribution centre, and noticing that one old man returned repeatedly to collect food parcels, Sena went up to the man and told him sternly: “That’s the third food parcel you have collected. I’ve been watching you.”
“Sir,” said the man piteously, “I have three wives!”
“Good Heavens, man,” gasped Sena. “You have three wives and here I am, unable to find even one! I congratulate you!”
And Sena had given the old Bluebeard a hundred-rupee bill.
***
One of our club members had run up several bar bills and despite many reminders, he had confessed that he was not in a position to pay them as his other vice, betting invariably left him broke. But one fine day, one of his ‘all-ons’ clicked, bringing him quite a packet. That evening he walked into the club like a lord, and with a flourish, settled all his outstanding bills. Then he pocketed the bills, ordered drinks all round, had a large one himself, went swaggering (or staggering?) home, had his dinner and slept.
Next morning, he went to the toilet, ascended the throne and gasped in dismay. For pasted on the inner side of the toilet door by an irate wife, were all the liquor bills he had settled the previous evening!
***
During a flu epidemic in Galle the doctors were kept busy. When a doctor (a private practitioner) walked into the club one evening, a member who was no poet but one after a few shots, recited this impromptu verse.
“An apple a day keeps the doctor away!
No apple a day keeps the doctor in the pay!
And the patients at bay!”
***
One day an elderly member recalled the days of his youth. He said that in 1922, at the young age of 17 years, he had joined his uncle who had a curio shop in La Palmas, one of the seven Canary Islands off the coast of Spain. There were about 70 Galle traders who had settled down there. Business there was good and they were all happy. It had the Nuwara-Eliya climate. There were rice and curry, plenty of meat and fish, fruit and wine, with low cost living.
All that was till General Franco came to power in Spain. Thereafter it was not possible to remit the earnings to the motherland. Some Ceylonese merged with the indigenous population while the others came back to Ceylon, adding that he was one of them who returned to his native Galle and started a business of his own (in a rare field) which flourished.
***
Lakshman Jayakody was a Cabinet Minister at the time, who sometimes used to spend a holiday with his cousin at Galle, whenever he found the time. His cousin lived on the same road I lived. And sometimes they picked me up on their way to the club, in the evening.
Lakshman was a public-school product, a sportsman of the friendly and unassuming type, who enlivened us at the club. One day, he asked me what I knew of his electorate of Divulapitiya, when my thoughts drifted to the dark days of 1915 riots, with a ‘shoot at sight order’ under Martial Law, when a brave young man from a wealthy family in Divulapitiya, Mark Leo Fernando, tried to make peace, but was kept against a wall with his hands tied and shot dead in the name of Law and Order. Lakshman was lost in thought.
***
One of my cousins was afflicted with a terrible form of eczema and when he got these attacks, which was often, his feet and legs would be covered with tiny running sores. At last, unable to bear it any longer, he went to a well-known doctor and begged to be cured of his affliction. “Curing your eczema is not a big problem,” said the doctor. “But I must warn you that you may develop asthma as a result. Many people do, you know.” Having but the haziest idea of what asthma was, and what it entailed, my cousin replied, “That’s all right, doctor, I’ll take the risk. Anything is better than this cursed eczema.”
The doctor gave him a course of injections, and the eczema began to disappear. Not long afterwards, my cousin got his first attack of asthma. He sat up all night, wheezing, coughing, groaning and moaning, unable to breathe properly or even talk. And the entire household had to dance attendance on him, applying all sorts of oils and balms on his chest, back, nostrils and neck. Early next morning he rushed to the doctor who had treated him, and wheezed. “Doctor, doctor, for God’s sake, can I have my eczema back?”
***
Several years ago, a young doctor attached to the Galle Hospital, then at Mahamodara, on the Galle-Colombo road, was in the habit of going to Colombo every pay day. He would come back to his quarters at the hospital in the last bus. As he approached the Mahamodara bridge, he would ring the bell and get off. One pay day, coming back dog tired and a trifle drunk, he fell asleep in the bus, and got up all of a sudden to see the Mahamodara bridge looming ahead. He quickly rang the bell and hopped out. It was only after he had got off that he realised, to his dismay, that he had got off at the Gintota bridge. By now the bus had disappeared and with a groan he began walking towards Mahamodara, a good two-and-a-half miles away. As he reached the Dadella Cemetery, a car stopped beside him, and one of the occupants offered him a lift.
Gratefully he got in, but instead of getting a seat by the window he found himself sandwiched between two tough looking men. It didn’t take him long to realise that the four men were denizens of the underworld, and his thoughts flew to his pay packet in his pocket.
Then quite unexpectedly, the doctor caught a break when one of the gang asked him what he was doing at the cemetery at that ungodly hour of the night.
“Oh,” said the doctor, his voice casual, “I went to see a corpse!”
“Now, where are you going?”
“To the hospital mortuary to see another corpse!”
“Ammo, moo holmanak!” shouted one of the thugs. (“Ammo, this man is a ghost!) and pushing him out of the car, they fled!
****
Why is it that when the Chief Guest or his wife draws the winning ticket in a raffle, that person gives the ticket to one of the organisers to read out the name or the number of the winner? Is the Chief Guest illiterate or something? I ask this question because at a club social in the South several years ago, the first prize was a kerosene cooker. This was on display at the club, and while I was admiring it, one of the organisers of the social came up to me and whispered that a certain lady, the wife of a friend of his, was going to win it. “Are you a soothsayer?” I asked him in surprise. “How can you tell in advance who the winner will be?” The man just grinned and gave me a sort of pitying look, and said, “Wait and see”.
The raffle was the last event of the night, and the Chief Guest’s wife put a shapely hand into a bag containing all the raffle tickets, took one out and gave it to the organiser I had spoken to earlier. And lo and behold! He read out the name of his friend’s wife, just as he had predicted.
Then giving me a surreptitious wink, he tore up the ticket. I did not have the slightest doubt it was somebody else’s name on that ticket.
Opinion
“Pot calling the kettle black?” A response
I was taken aback by the response of the well-known academic Uswatte-Aratchi (U-A) to my article “Achievements of the Hunduwa”, which appeared in The Island on 15 March. In his piece, titled “Pot calling the kettle black?” (The Island, 23 April) U-A accuses me of belittling Sri Lanka in just the same way President Anura Kumara Dissanayake (AKD) did with his reference to Sri Lanka as a hunduwa. Being an academic of repute, U-A’s comments cannot be ignored and before I proceed further to explain, let me state that I am very sorry if what I stated appeared in any way to be derogatory; my intentions were otherwise.
U-A states, “Most sensible people, even uneducated, judge that the volume of a little drop (of whatever) is smaller than that of a hunduwa; so is weight. When the learned doctor emphatically maintains ‘we are not a hunduwa’ but ‘a little drop in the ocean’, is the pot calling the kettle black or worse?” He implies that my ‘insult’ is worse. Whilst conceding that a drop is smaller than a hunduwa, what baffles me is how an academic overlooked the fact that comparisons should be made based on context. Whereas AKD used hunduwa in the parliament to belittle the country, I used the term ‘little drop’ to highlight our achievements, which are disproportionate to our size. In contrast, AKD used hunduwa to trifle with the country.
“Surely, this little drop in the Indian ocean performed well beyond its size to have gained international recognition way back in history,” I said in my article. This cannot in any way be considered derogatory. In fact, what U-A stated in his article about the achievements of countries, either smaller or with populations smaller than ours, only supports my view that there is no correlation between a country’s size and its achievements.
U-A casts doubt on the assertion that Sri Lanka was once the ‘Granary of the East’; he cites instances of drought and famine. There may have been bad periods, as we are at the mercy of nature, but it does not negate the fact that there were periods of plenty too. Our rulers in days of yore did everything possible to feed the populace by building tanks and extensive irrigation systems. In addition to major works, there were networks of small projects, Uva being referred to as ‘Wellassa’; the land of one hundred thousand paddy fields fed by small tanks. What has the present government done to ease farmers’ burden? Absolutely nothing! Whilst farmers are struggling to eke out a living, rice millers are importing super-luxury vehicles and even helicopters!
I agree with U-A that unfortunately the contribution of the ordinary people is not well recorded in history. This is a universal problem, not limited to Sri Lanka. When one watches some of Prof. Raj Somadeva’s programmes, it becomes clear how ordinary people helped complete gigantic projects. Although there are many documentaries on how the pyramids were built, no one seems interested in exploring how Great Stupas in Anuradhapura were built with millions of bricks.
AKD is doing just the opposite of what he preached whilst in Opposition and does not seem to have any sense of shame. His hunduwa reference, possibly, makes him the only President to have demeaned the country.
by Dr Upul Wijayawardhana
Opinion
Openness, not isolation, is the bedrock of the West
Recent statements from Washington show how global politics is being increasingly framed along civilisational terms. The U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio has referred to the idea of a shared “Western civilisation,” describing the U.S. and Europe as bound by common history, cultural heritage, and institutional traditions. At the same time, U.S. President Donald Trump has amplified comments about countries such as India, China, and Iran in the context of migration and geopolitical competition that reinforce a tendency to interpret global politics in civilisational terms. Taken together, these statements point to a broader shift: global affairs are being interpreted not only through the language of power and interest, but also through civilisational identities.
The appeal of such framing is understandable. It offers a sense of clarity in an era of rapid technological disruption, demographic change, and geopolitical uncertainty. But apparent clarity is not the same as analytical accuracy. Moreover, it is not an entirely new framing either. As early as the 1990s, political scientist Samuel Huntington had argued that global politics would evolve into a “clash of civilisations,” where cultural and religious identities would become the principal fault lines of international relations.
Civilisational explanations can obscure more than they reveal, particularly when they imply that cultural cohesion, rather than institutional adaptability, is the primary source of national strength. A historical record of the modem West suggests otherwise.
A look at history
Much of the West’s post-Cold War dynamism has rested not on homogeneity, but on openness — to talent, ideas, capital, and global competitive pressures. Its advantage has been institutional: the capacity to absorb diversity and convert it into innovation within rules-based systems.
Nowhere is this more evident than in today’s innovation economy. AI, in particular, has become the defining frontier of global competition, shaped by deeply international talent flows and research ecosystems. Companies such as Microsoft, Open Al, and NVIDIA exemplify systems in which breakthroughs depend on globally sourced expertise, cross-border collaboration, and the ability to attract the most capable minds regardless of origin.
The COVID-19 pandemic underscored this complementary reality: innovation now operates through globally distributed production systems. Rapid vaccine development and distribution, by firms such as Modema and AstraZeneca, depended on international research networks and global manufacturing ecosystems. In the case of AstraZeneca, large-scale production through partnerships such as that with the Serum Institute of India illustrated how innovation and industrial capacity now operate across borders.
This is not an argument against immigration control. Immigration must be governed effectively, and civic norms must be upheld. But managing diversity is fundamentally different from retreating from it.
In an era of intensifying geopolitical competition, openness remains a critical strategic asset. The West’s advantage lies not only in military alliances or economic scale, but in institutional resilience and its capacity to attract, integrate, and retain talent. Civilisational framing, by contrast, risks misdiagnosing this advantage —privileging identity over capability and boundaries over performance. Demographic realities reinforce this point. Many advanced economies face ageing populations. In this context, immigration is not simply a cultural or political issue, but an economic necessity.
Without sustained inflows of sldlled labour and human capital, growth slows, fiscal pressures increase, and innovation ecosystems weaken.
Openness as an advantage
The defining challenges of the 21st century —including AI governance and climate change —further highlight the limits of civilisational thinking. These are problems that cannot be addressed within cultural silos. Against this backdrop, framing global politics in terms of civilisational hierarchy carries risks. It encourages a narrowing of identity at precisely the moment when cooperation and adaptability are essential.
The question, therefore, is not whether identity matters. It dearly does. Societies require shared norms, institutional trust, and continuity. The more important question is whether democracies can manage change without losing confidence in the openness that has sustained their development. The strength of the West has historically rested on its ability to combine stability with adaptation — to absorb new influences while preserving core principles such as the rule of law, individual liberty, and accountable governance.
Therefore, the policy challenge ahead is not to retreat into notions of cultural purity, but to govern openness with clarity and purpose. This requires strengthening integration frameworks and reinforcing institutional trust. It also requires recognising that engagement with other civilisational spaces is not a concession, but a necessity in a globally interconnected world.
In a world of intensifying geopolitical rivalry, it may be tempting to define strength in narrower terms. But doing so risks undertnining one of the West’s most important strategic assets. Openness — disciplined, governed, and anchored in strong institutions — is not a vulnerability. It is a source of sustained advantage.
(Milinda Moragoda –Former Sri Lankan Cabinet Minister, diplomat and the Founder of the Pathfinder Foundation, a strategic affairs think tank. The Hindu – 08, May 2026)
By Milinda Moragoda
Opinion
Palm leaf manuscripts of Sri Lanka – 2
Palm leaf manuscripts are now valued as historical documents and collections of palm leaf manuscripts are carefully preserved in libraries, in Sri Lanka and abroad. Most of the palm leaf manuscripts available in these collections date only from the 18th and 19th century. The palm leaf is a perishable item. Manuscripts of an earlier period are rare and are greatly valued.
Sri Lanka has the greatest number of these palm leaf manuscript collections. This indicates the value placed on palm leaf manuscripts in this country. The largest collection in Sri Lanka and possibly in the world, is in the National Museum Library, Colombo. The collection exceeds 5000. It includes the collections of H.C.P. Bell, W.A. de Silva, Ananda Coomaraswamy and E.B Gunaratne as well as the poetry section of the Hugh Neville collection. In 1938, W.A. de Silva prepared a “Catalogue of palm leaf manuscripts in the Library of the Colombo Museum.” This was published by the Museum.
The Museum library has the oldest palm leaf manuscript in the country, the Cullavagga, dated to 13 century. Cullavagga gives an account of the religious life of the sangha and the legal confines of their conduct. The last chapter carries the earliest known account of the Buddhist Great Council at Rajagaha.
The library has a copy of Buddhaghosa’s commentary on Digha nikaya. The cover is of silver embossed with white sapphires. The library has a copy of Sumangala Vilasini , one of the Bodhiwamsa (Ref No 1823) in Sinhala giving the history of the Sri Maha Bodhi, and the Mahavagga, copied by the Peramuna rala of Siyambalapitiya Galboda korale, completed on October 1802 and offered to Malwatte.
The Museum library has approximately 300 medical manuscripts Saddharmaratnavaliya manuscript says that doctors had to be paid for their services and travelling expenses. It said that physicians jealously guarded their knowledge of medicine and kept their prescriptions for medical remedies in safe custody.
University of Peradeniya has the next largest collection of 4000 items. Peradeniya has the UNESCO recognised copy of the Mahavamsa and the 13 century Visuddhi Magga Tika. The library has the de Saram and Hettiarachchy collections and several collections of palm leaf manuscripts donated to it.When I was studying at Peradeniya in the 1960s, the Main Library displayed palm leaf manuscripts and their decorative covers, in a case, upstairs, by the staircase, where the readers would not miss it. That was our introduction to palm leaf manuscripts.
The National Library of Sri Lanka (est. 1990) has a small but distinctive collection of 523 items which include Sinhala vedakam, Sinhala bana katha and Yantra mantra gurukam . It has a rare literary manuscript, Diya Savol Sandeshaya, dated April 26, 1904. It begins with the evocative phrase “Sarada Sarada Somi Paharusamu.” It provides a unique glimpse into the late-modern period of Sinhala literature. The manuscript is in good condition, with beginning and end intact. It measures 50 cm in length.
Other state institutes also have collections. The Institute of Indigenous Medicine, Rajagiriya has 700 palm leaf manuscripts. The collection includes Besajja Manjusa , the oldest medical manuscript in Sri Lanka . The collection also has a very old, valuable manuscript on acupuncture, written in Sinhala. The manuscript is reproduced in full in the book “Palm leaf manuscripts of Sri Lanka” by Sirancee Gunawardana. She comments, it is well illustrated. The human form is drawn clearly and acupuncture points indicated.
There are valuable private collections of palm leaf manuscripts, acquired by knowledgeable collectors. University of Kelaniya has digitised and made available the manuscripts of 13 private collections. The Danton Obeyesekera collection includes an ath-veda-pota containing prescriptions. James D Alwis collection has a copy of the Jataka Atuwa getapadaya. L.S.D Pieris has an extensive collection of Yantra manuscripts and medical manuscripts as well as a copy of the Rajavaliya. It was noted that SWRD Bandaranaike also had a collection of palm leaf manuscripts .
Private collectors seem to have been specially interested in the pansiya panas jataka. K.V.J. de Silva’s collection had a magnificent pansiya panas jataka. The collection assembled by Rohan de Silva and Jacques Soulie at the Suriyakantha Centre for Art & Culture, Handessa, also has on display a palm leaf manuscript of the Jataka stories, dated to late Kandyan period, in exceptional condition. Its clarity of script, leaf preparation, and intact binding show the highest standards of Sri Lankan scribal craftsmanship, the Centre said.
The largest collection in a foreign library (western) is probably the collection in the British Library, London, which has around 2464 Sinhala palm leaf manuscripts . The major portion of this collection is the Hugh Neville collection of 2227 palm leaf manuscripts. Everybody has heard of the Hugh Neville collection and most think that this is the only collection of Sri Lanka palm leaf manuscripts in the world and that we must be grateful to Hugh Neville for collecting them. Some probably think he wrote them. They do not know of the much larger collections in Colombo and Peradeniya.
Hugh Neville (1869 – 1886) came to Sri Lanka during the British period as private secretary to the Chief Justice. He later became an Assistant Government Agent. He travelled across the country collecting palm leaf manuscripts. They were mainly 19 century manuscripts. Hugh Nevill observed that just one in his collection may be 100 years old. I have no copy over 200 years old, he said.[1]
Hugh Neville died in France, but London acquired the palm leaf collection at the instigation of D.M de Z. Wickremasinghe. They were catalogued by K.D. Somadasa and published in seven volumes, titled ‘Catalogue of the Hugh Nevill Collection of Sinhalese manuscripts in the British Library”. The British Library, in 2021, digitized and made freely available online, four Sinhalese palm leaf manuscripts from the Hugh Nevill collections, namely Dighanikaya, Majjhimanikaya and two copies of Mahavamsa.
The libraries of Cambridge and Oxford Universities have Sri Lanka palm leaf manuscripts. Bodleian Library in Oxford has the Mahavamsa manuscript which was used by Turner for his English translation. Jinadasa Liyanaratana has examined some of the manuscripts in Cambridge and has catagloued 24 Sinhala manuscripts of which 6 were medical texts, others were on Buddhism. This was published in Journal of the Pali Text Society, Vol. XVIII, 1993, pp. 131-47[2]
The John Rylands Library, University of Manchester holds over seventy manuscripts from Sri Lanka, “mostly on Theravada in the Pali language in Sinhalese script” . They are probably from the Rhys Davids collection. The manuscripts date from the 17th-19th centuries and include copies made in Sri Lanka for T.W. Rhys Davis. There are complete manuscripts of the Paṭṭhāna-Pakaraṇa and Nettipakaraṇa, which are rare even in Sri Lanka.
There are palm leaf manuscripts at Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris, the Azistische Kjust Museum, Amsterdam, and Bavarian State Library in Munich . Paris has the Talapata sent from the Udarata chiefs to Dutch governor Falck. Jinadasa Liyanaratne examined and wrote on the “Sinhalese Medical Manuscripts in Paris” for Bulletin de l’École française d’Extrême-Orient Année 1987 pp. 185-199[3] The Netherlands collection included 135 medical manuscripts.
The palm leaf manuscript collection in the Royal Library, Copenhagen is well known. It was obtained by Rasmus Rask who came to Sri Lanka in 1822 in search of them. The collection was catalogued by C.E. Godakumbure. The catalogue is available in Gunawardene’s “Palm leaf manuscripts of Sri Lanka”(p 339). This collection contains the manuscripts collected by Ven. Kapugama Dharmachandra who lived in Dadalla, Galle. He converted to Christianity and his extensive collection, went to Denmark, said Gunawardana.[4]
Small collections of palm leaf manuscripts are held in various other foreign libraries in the west. Casey Wood, (b 1856) an American ophthalmologist who had in interest in medical research, toured the world after retirement. In Sri Lanka he connected with Andreas Nell, also an eye surgeon, obtained palm leaf manuscripts, mainly medical, which he then donated to institutions and individuals all over North America. At least 50 different recipients have been identified.[5]McGill University has a collection of 27 palm leaf manuscripts gifted by him.[6] The Metropolitan Museum of Art, in New York has one manuscript on display[7]. (To be continued)
[1] Stephne C Berkwitz. Buddhist history in the vernacular. P . 115..
[2] https://hasp.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/journals/jpts/article/view/28096/27490
[3] https://www.persee.fr/doc/befeo_0336-1519_1987_num_76_1_1723
[4] Sirancee Gunawardana Palm leaf manuscripts of Sri Lanka . (1977 )p 1-9, 35,41-43,50,127,129,140-146,248,286-292,339-,
[5] https://findingaids.library.northwestern.edu/repositories/8/resources/1303
[6] https://hiddenhands.ca/sri-lanka-essays/
[7] ps://libmma.contentdm.oclc.org/digital/collection/p16028coll4/id/47247/.
by KAMALIKA PIERIS
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