Features
Inauspicious start and getting into my stride at the Victorian Bar
Excerpted from a Life in the Law by Nimal Wikramanayake
I drove into work on Monday, 13 October 1972 trembling with excitement. I walked into Owen Dixon Chambers and took the lift up to the third floor to DB’s chambers. DB took me next door and introduced me to a lady barrister, Lyn Opas, in a little dog-box next to his chambers. Next he took me across the corridor and introduced me to a young barrister by the name of John Coldrey. Coldrey had a criminal practice and was later to become the Director of Public Prosecutions, and still later he was appointed to the Supreme Court. Coldrey asked whether I would like to have a cup of coffee and suggested we go up to the lounge on the thirteenth floor.
He was a delightful man with an impish sense of humour. As we walked into the lounge the buzz of conversation suddenly stopped and all the barristers in that room turned around to stare at me. Not a word was spoken as John went up to the servery and ordered two cups of coffee. We sat down and the conversation resumed.
A number of barristers clustered around me and asked me what I was doing there. I told them that I had come to the Victorian Bar to give it some colour. This little quip of mine elicited guffaws of laughter. Coldrey and I then went back down to the third floor and I sat at my little desk. Peter Heerey had arranged for me to sign the Bar Roll on October 26 so that I was now a member of the educated unemployed for the next fortnight.
In the first few weeks, almost every single barrister I saw stopped me to ask me who I was and what I was doing in Owen Dixon Chambers. My stock reply was that I had come to the Bar to give it some colour, but I had to stop my little quip because it elicited some rather snide racist comments.
In the meantime, I was of considerable assistance to DB; having been an advocate/barrister for twelve years, I was extremely skilled in drafting legal documents. I whiled away my time drawing Statements of Claim in the Supreme Court, Particulars of Demand in the County Court, interrogatories and answers to interrogatories.
Mr Nkrumah
November was soon upon me and I sat at my desk for the first two weeks, looking longingly at my telephone and waiting for it to ring. When it did ring suddenly it was my former neighbour, Peter Allaway. While I was a solicitor, we rented a house in Jordan Street, Malvern, but once I made my decision to go to the Bar we moved into a small flat in Myamin Street, Armadale. Peter had been my neighbour in Jordan Street. He had a motor car collision case, or what is commonly called a “crash-and-bash” case.
Peter’s client was IPEC, a large firm of removalists. One of its drivers had been involved in a three-car collision and Peter retained me to appear for the driver, who was the second defendant in the Magistrates’ Court at Williamstown. Peter duly delivered the brief and I spent many an hour preparing it. I would show these young Australian barristers my mettle.
I got up the next morning and left home at 8.30 am for Williamstown. My knowledge of Australian roads was extremely limited as I had been but a year in Melbourne. I had pored over my Gregory’s Street Directory the previous night. Now I wandered up and down the Nepean highway for a couple of hours and was hopelessly lost. I finally arrived at a ferry and went across on it, arriving at the Williamstown Court at 11 am. I rushed into the Magistrates’ Court and learned to my chagrin that my case had been called and was about to be heard. I rushed in and took my seat at the Bar table when two young barristers moved across and sat on either side of me.
I was nonplussed when the first one got up and marked his appearance. He was Peter Rattray and the second was John Tebbutt. After they had marked their appearance I marked my appearance. I had shortened my name to Wikrama when I went to the Bar, and the magistrate, Harry Boarder, asked me to spell my name. I said: W-I-K-R-A-M-A. The magistrate was a beady-eyed, pompous man who looked down at me and said, “Carry on, Mr Nkrumah” (Nkrumah was then the president of Ghana and I can assure you that I bore no resemblance to him.) I gently told the magistrate that my name was Wikrama and not Nkrumah.
His reply was, “That’s alright. Carry on, Mr Nkrumah.” This was my first experience of blatant racism in Australia. Rattray put his client in the box, led his evidence-in-chief, and counsel for the first defendant cross-examined him. I then got up to cross-examine to find that Rattray and Tebbutt each in turn objected to every question I put. Most of my questions were clearly admissible but the magistrate, Harry Boarder, joined in the exchanges. He upheld every single objection, yet most of the objections were completely and utterly frivolous.
The same thing happened when John Tebbutt put his client in the box. My cross-examination was interrupted by Rattray and Tebbutt’s objections. When I put my client in the witness box, these two young heroes objected to every single question I put. I was completely shattered at the end of this experience.
Of course, you can guess the inevitable. Rattray won 100 per cent, John Tebbutt’s client was exonerated and in addition received compensation from my client for his damage. Furthermore, my client was made liable to pay two sets of damages and two sets of costs. I was mortified. I walked out of court and told both these heroes that this would never happen to me again – and it never did.
I returned to my chambers and gave Peter Allaway the bad news. He was furious. I was about to have my dinner that evening when Peter burst into our little flat in Armadale. He was screaming and yelling at the top of his voice, and was uncontrollable. He told me that because of my incompetence and stupidity, he had lost an exceptionally good client, as IPEC was taking all its business away from him.
Explanations were useless, as Allaway refused to believe his client could in any way have been negligent. He promised me that he would never brief me again and that I should leave the Bar, as I was hopelessly and utterly incompetent. He stormed out of the flat leaving me speechless. What an inglorious beginning!
My brief fee in the Allaway case was $46 – my only income for November 1972 – an inauspicious beginning.
The Christmas vacation
The Christmas vacation was soon upon me as the courts, in my case the Magistrates’ Court, was closed for two weeks. DB had given me about forty briefs to work on during the summer vacation. I spent the next two weeks diligently working my way through them as Anna Maria had to work through January.
In that month, DB invited us home for dinner. We took chocolates for his four children. The youngest, little Willie, was two years old. He finished eating his slab of chocolate and stood beside me while I was having dinner. He kept staring at my hand which was resting on the arm of my chair. He suddenly leant forward, grabbed my hand and bit it, obviously thinking it was another piece of chocolate. I gave a loud yell and little Willie disappeared.
I returned to work in the first week of January and sat there twiddling my thumbs, as no solicitors delivered briefs to Gamin’s list. I worked through DB’s pleadings and gave my completed work to him when he returned to work on February 1. I got plenty of thanks but no money.The next few months were uneventful, save for the fact that volume one of Williams found its way back to my desk. I was writing in about $400 a month until the time came for me to end my reading.There were about 420 barristers at the Bar at that time and rooms were rare as hens’ teeth. I remember my friends, Peter Buchanan (now the late Mr Justice Buchanan of the Court of Appeal) and Clive Rosen sharing a little cubicle on the first floor in Owen Dixon Chambers.My friend Michael Croyle and I had coffee early in the month of April and he proudly told me that he had obtained a room in Equity Chambers. This is where Sir Eugene (“Pat”) Gorman comes into my story.
Sir Eugene Gorman
In 1952, Dad had brought us out to Australia on a holiday. His friends were aghast because Australia was regarded, as Ava Gardner once said, as “the end of the world” Dad said that he would like to see a place where no one else had been to, so we travelled to Australia on the Neptunia, a Lloyd Triestine vessel. It was a small boat, some 12,000 tonnes in weight, and it rolled badly. We spent three weeks in Melbourne because the Neptunia was to go on to Sydney, be refurbished, and return three weeks later. But the voyage was delightful, as we traveled first class and the service on board first class was unbelievable, second to none.Dad was vice-chairman of the Ceylon Bar Council. When he came to Australia he met two distinguished lawyers, Pat Gorman and Monahan KC, later Mr Justice Monahan of the Supreme Court of Victoria.
Ceylon was one of the richest countries in the world at that time. It was selling its rubber to China as no other country was trading with China. Tea was extremely expensive, costing one English pound for a pound of tea until our prime minister ruined the market in 1954.The stupid man went to England and when he expressed surprise at the price of tea, which he said should not have been one English pound, the price of tea fell to two shillings and sixpence a pound.
In addition, when malaria was virtually eradicated, the population started increasing in leaps and bounds. The final straw came when the government granted free education, which meant Ceylon became a third-world country. I refer to this debacle because Monahan KC was horrified at my father’s fees. He was charging fifty English guineas a day while Monahan was charging fifteen Australian pounds a day.
Pat Gorman and Dad became good friends and when he discovered that Dad was on the committee of the Ceylon Turf Club, he took him to the three race courses in Melbourne. They kept up their friendship over the years. When I decided to emigrate to Australia, Dad wrote to Pat Gorman and told him that I was coming to Australia.
Sir Eugene Gorman (known as Pat) was one of the great advocates at the Victorian Bar. He was born in 1892 and had a large and a lucrative practice. His boast was that he intended retiring at the age of fifty, but the war intervened so he went off to war and retired immediately after. I believe he was a general in the Australian Army and ran the race course in Egypt during the war.
He had large salubrious chambers on the third floor of Equity Chambers, and a sign on his door read: Nothing matters half as much in life, as you think it does.Whenever I went to see Pat Gorman he was seated behind his large desk in his large room puffing on a large Cuban cigar. He would greet me with great affection, but within a few minutes would start moaning about how badly off and poor he was. For the life of me I was at a loss to understand why his conversation always started off with his poor financial situation.
It was only after he died that the penny dropped. Gorman thought that every time I visited him I was coming there to “touch him for a load”. When I decided to go to the Bar, he invited two of his friends who were senior partners in two big city firms to dinner with me. Suffice it to say I never got a brief from them.He always threw a large party every Christmas and he invited me to his party when I was reading with DB in 1972. These parties were magnificent affairs, with champagne flowing freely, oysters and the rest.
Anyway, I decided to see Pat Gorman about getting a room in Equity Chambers. I remember going to see him one afternoon in April 1973. His secretary, Pam Nicholson, ushered me into his room and he greeted me with his customary warmth. I told him that there was a room falling vacant in Equity Chambers and asked whether it would be possible for me to have it.
He picked up the phone and dialled Sir James Tate, who then handled accommodation at the bar. Pat Gorman said, “James, I have young Nimal Wikramanayake here with me. I believe there is a room going in Equity Chambers on the second floor. I want you to give it to him” I did not hear what Sir James said but Pat put the phone down, looked up at me and said: “Sonny, the room is yours” This was, I might say with some modesty, the only underhand thing I have ever done in my life. To this day Michael Croyle does not know how he lost his room. Mick died after I began this writing.
I would like to tell you about an interesting incident that happened during the final months of my reading period. It is slightly risque and un-Australian but still amusing. DB decided to take me for a drink to his club, the Victorian Club. It was in Queen Street and the subject of the “Great Bookie Robbery” a few years later. We got there shortly after five pm and joined a large group of about 15 people.
There was a short, florid Australian who appeared to take umbrage at my presence for he started relating racist Indian jokes, obviously under the impression that I was Indian. When he had finished relating his second anti-Indian joke, I asked the group whether I could have the floor and tell them a joke about the “New Australian”. They all agreed to let me have the floor, save for the florid Australian.
I told them that an Italian recently had been granted citizenship. He was excited about it and that evening he went to a pub close to his home, something he had never done before. He asked the bartender for an empty glass and then urinated into it and drank its contents. This created great interest among the members in the pub. He then left the pub with the members trailing behind him. He went back home and entered his garden through a side-gate, went to his fowl run and started choking a few of his hens to death. He then opened the back gate and went into a paddock where a cow was grazing peacefully. He went up to the cow, picked up its tail and put his ear to his rectum. At this stage the police were contacted and he was taken before the authorities for certification as being mentally unsound.
He was furious and said, “Why you arrest me? Me new Australian. Me go the pub, me drinks da piss, me screws da birds and then me listen to da bull-shit.’ This little anecdote was greeted with roars of laughter and the racist gentleman put his drink down and disappeared. I shouted to him to come back as I had a lot more jokes.
Features
Silence of the majority keeps West Asian conflict raging
With no military quick-fix in sight to the ongoing, convoluted West Asian conflict it ought to be clear to the rationally inclined that there is no other way to a solution to the blood-letting other than through a negotiated one. Unfortunately, there are not many takers the world over for such an approach.
Consequently the war rages on incurring the gravest human costs to all relevant sides. Whereas it should be obvious to the Trump administration that Iran wouldn’t be backing down any time soon from its position of taking on the US frontally and with the required military competence in the Hormuz Strait and adjacent regions, the US demonstrates a stubbornness to persist with war strategies that are showing no quick, positive results on the ground.
Clearly, the virtual ‘lock down within a lock down’ situation in the Strait is not proving beneficial for either party. Instead, the spilling of civilian blood in particular continues with unsettling regularity along with an all-encompassing economic crisis that carries a staggering material toll for ordinary people all over the world.
From this viewpoint it is commendable for Pakistan to offer itself as a peace mediator and go ‘the extra mile’ to keep the principal parties engaged in some sort of negotiatory process. But its efforts need to win greater support from the world community. It is a time for peace-makers the world over to stand up and be counted.
It is also a time for straight-talking. To his glowing credit Pope Leo XIV is doing just that and he is the only religious head worldwide to do so. Very rightly he has called on President Trump to end the war through negotiations and described it as ‘unjust’ and ‘a scandal to humanity’.
May this crucial cause be taken up by more and more world leaders, is this columnist’s wish. Instead of speaking fatalistically about a ‘Third World War’, decision and policy makers and commentators, and these are found in plenty in Sri Lanka as well, would do better to help in drumming-up support for a peaceful solution and the latter is within the realms of the possible.
Incidentally, the commonplace definition of the phrase ‘World War’ is quite contentious and it would be premature to speak forebodingly about one right now. The fissures within the West on the Middle East conflict alone rule out the possibility of a ‘World War’ occurring any time soon.
Instead, it would be preferable for the international community, under the aegis of the UN, to take the ‘straight and narrow’ path to a peaceful solution. As implied, this path is no easy avenue; it is cluttered with obstacles that only doughty peace makers could take on and clear.
However, the path to a negotiated peace is worth taking and no less a power than the US should know this. After all, the US ‘bled white’ in Vietnam and had to bow out of the conflict, realizing the futility of pursuing a military solution. A similar lesson should have been learned by Russia which bled futilely in Afghanistan. It too is in an unwinnable situation in Ukraine.
The Pope’s observations to President Trump on negotiating peace have earned for him some snarls and growls of criticism but with time these critics would realize that peace could come only by peaceful means and not through ‘the barrel of a gun.’
For far too long the ‘silent majority’ of the world has allowed politicians to take the sole initiative on working towards peaceful solutions to conflicts and wars. As could be seen, the results have been disastrous. The majority of politicians speak the language of Realpolitik only and this tendency runs contrary to the ways of the selfless peace maker.
Power, which is the essence of Realpolitik, and peace are generally at loggerheads in the real world. Power and self-aggrandizement have to be shelved in the pursuit of durable peace anywhere and it is a pity that the likes of Donald Trump and his team are yet to realize this.
At this juncture the ‘peace constituency’ or the silent majority would need to take centre stage and play their rightful role as the ‘Conscience of the World’. If the latter begins to take on the cause of peace in earnest everywhere, the politicians would have no choice but to pay heed to their cause and take it up, since a contrary course would earn for them public displeasure and votes.
An immediate challenge would be for the ‘peace constituency’ to come together and act as one. Right now, such a coordinating role could be played effectively by only the UN and its agencies. Practical problems are likely to get in the way but these need to be managed insightfully and resourcefully by all stakeholders to peace.
In fact the time couldn’t be more appropriate for the backers of peace to come together and work as one. Right now, economic pressures are increasing worldwide and no less a public than that in the US is beginning to feel them in a major, crushing way.
Going ahead the US public, along with other polities, would find the economic consequences of war to be intolerable. There would be no choice but for governments and peoples to champion peace. Peace makers would need to ‘strike while the iron is hot.’
The success of the above endeavours hinges on the importance humans attach to their consciences. The danger about prolonged wars is that they deaden consciences; particularly those of politicians. The latter deaden their consciences to the extent that they prove impervious to the pain and suffering wars incur.
Thus, the ‘peace constituency’ has its work cut out; it cannot rest assured that politicians would prove sensitive to their demands. The latter would need to be constantly dinned into the hearts and minds of politicians and decision-makers if peaceful solutions to conflicts are to be arrived at.
Likewise, the publics of war-torn countries would need to demand the activation and sustaining of accountability processes with regard to those sections that are suspected of committing war crimes and like atrocities. Those publics that cease to demand accountability from powerful sections among them which are faced with war-time atrocity charges are as good as condemning themselves to lives of permanent dis-empowerment and enslavement.
Features
Don’t take the baby: In the quiet night, mother always returns

Chaminda Jayasekara
There is a particular stillness in Sri Lanka’s forests, after dusk — a kind of hushed expectancy where shadows lengthen, cicadas soften their chorus, and the night begins to breathe in its own rhythm. It is a world that does not reveal itself easily. You have to wait for it. You have to listen.
And then, suddenly, you see them — a pair of luminous, unblinking eyes suspended in the dark.
The Grey Slender Loris, or unahapuluwa, emerges, not with drama, but with quiet precision. Small, slow-moving, and almost impossibly delicate, it is one of Sri Lanka’s most enigmatic nocturnal primates — a creature that has survived millennia by mastering the art of stillness.
Yet, during these months — from late March through July — the forests hold a more tender story. It is the breeding season of the slender loris, and with it comes a scene that is often misunderstood by those who encounter it for the first time: a tiny infant, alone on a branch, barely three inches long, its fragile body silhouetted against the night.

Grey Slender Loris with twin babies
To many, it appears to be a moment of abandonment.
To nature, it is a moment of trust.
“People often act out of compassion, but without understanding what they are seeing,” explains Chaminda Jayasekara of the University of Hertfordshire. “A baby loris left alone is not necessarily in danger. In fact, it is part of a natural process that is critical for its survival.”
According to Jayasekara, when a baby loris is about a month old, the mother begins a remarkable routine. As darkness settles, she gently places her infant on a secure branch and moves off into the forest to forage. Her journey can take her hundreds of metres away — sometimes close to 800 metres — as she searches for insects and other small prey.
In those hours of solitude, the infant is not abandoned. It is learning.
Clinging to the branch, it begins to explore its immediate surroundings. Tentatively, almost hesitantly, it reaches out — testing balance, grip, and instinct. It may attempt to catch tiny insects, mimicking behaviours it will one day rely on entirely. This is its first classroom, and the forest its only teacher.
“Those early nights are crucial,” Jayasekara says. “The baby is developing motor skills, coordination, and the ability to interact with its environment. These are things that cannot be replicated in captivity.”
And yet, this is precisely where human intervention often disrupts the process.
Across rural and even semi-urban Sri Lanka, stories circulate of well-meaning individuals who come across a lone baby loris and assume the worst. Driven by concern, they pick it up, take it home, or attempt to hand-rear it — believing they are saving a life.

Grey Slender Loris
But the reality is far more complex — and far more tragic.
“When a baby is removed unnecessarily, it loses something fundamental,” Jayasekara emphasises. “It loses the chance to learn how to survive in the wild. Without that, even if it survives in the short term, its long-term prospects are extremely poor.”
The forest, after all, is not just a habitat. It is a living, evolving system of lessons — how to detect predators, how to navigate branches, how to hunt silently, how to recognise territory. These are not instincts alone; they are behaviours refined through experience.
And the mother, contrary to assumption, is rarely far away.
“If people simply waited — even for several hours — they would often see the mother return,” Jayasekara explains. “She knows exactly where she left her baby. Her absence is temporary, purposeful.”
The advice from conservationists is clear and consistent: observe, but do not interfere.
If you encounter a baby loris, watch quietly from a distance. Avoid using bright lights or making noise. Give it time — at least 10 to 12 hours — before drawing conclusions. In most cases, the situation will resolve itself, just as nature intended.

35 days old Grey Slender Loris
Only if the animal is clearly injured, or if there is strong evidence of abandonment after prolonged observation, should intervention be considered — and even then, it must be done through the proper channels, particularly the Department of Wildlife Conservation.
Attempting to care for such a delicate animal at home is not only ineffective but often fatal.
Sri Lanka is home to two species of slender loris — the Grey Slender Loris and the Red Slender Loris — each adapted to specific ecological zones across the island. Both are protected under national legislation and recognised internationally as species requiring urgent conservation attention.
Their threats are many: habitat loss, road mortality, illegal pet trade, and, increasingly, human misunderstanding.
Yet, in the midst of these challenges, there are also signs of hope.

In recent years, the slender loris has become the focus of a unique form of wildlife tourism — one that values patience over spectacle. Night walks, conducted with trained naturalists and strict ethical guidelines, offer visitors a chance to witness the loris in its natural environment without disturbing its behaviour.
At places like Jetwing Vil Uyana, this approach has been refined into a model of responsible eco-tourism. Over more than a decade, the property has developed a dedicated Loris Conservation Project, recording thousands of sightings while educating visitors and supporting local communities.
Here, the loris is not handled, chased, or exploited. It is simply observed — a quiet presence in a carefully protected landscape.
“The success of such initiatives shows that conservation and tourism do not have to be at odds,” Jayasekara reflects. “When done responsibly, tourism can actually support conservation by creating awareness and value for these species.”
There is something profoundly moving about encountering a loris in the wild. It does not roar or charge. It does not demand attention. Instead, it exists — quietly, deliberately — as it has for millions of years.
And perhaps that is why it is so easily misunderstood.

In a world that often equates visibility with importance, the loris reminds us that some of the most extraordinary lives unfold beyond the spotlight.
It also reminds us of something else — something simpler, yet harder to practice.
Restraint.
Because conservation is not always about stepping in. Sometimes, it is about stepping back. About recognising when nature does not need our help, but our patience.
So if, on some future night, you find yourself walking beneath the trees, and your light catches a tiny figure sitting alone on a branch — do not rush forward.
Pause.
Watch.
Let the moment unfold.
Because somewhere, moving silently through the darkness, guided by instinct and memory, a mother is already on her way back.
And by morning, the forest will be whole again.
By Ifham Nizam
Features
Kumar de Silva: 40 years of fame and flair
We first saw him on the small screen in January 1986 – a relatively raw, totally untrained and a very nervous 24-year-old presenting ‘Bonsoir’ on ITN.
And now, 40 years later, and as one looks back, one realises what a multi-dimensional journey Kumar de Silva has navigated across the small screen yes, from your television screens to your laptops, and iPads, tabs, and mobile phones.
Says Kumar: “It is the French language I speak that opened the world of television to me, 40 years ago. It was ‘Bonsoir’ alone, and so to my French teacher at Wesley College, Mrs. BA Fernando, to ‘Bonsoir’, and to the Embassy of France in Sri Lanka, I am eternally grateful”.

Promoting the French language, and culture, in Sri Lanka, in a big way
Kumar went on to say that on the heels of ‘Bonsoir” came ‘Fanclub’, on ITN, describing it as yet another resounding success story which saw him as a music DJ on TV.
His inherent talent saw him handle a range of contrasting programmes across ITN, TNL, Prime TV and SLRC with consummate ease – from News Reading, Business Talk Shows, Celebrity Chats, to Dhamma discussions, on Poya Days, to name a few.

Kumar – the 1986 look
Trained in Paris in television production and presentation, the Government of France, in 2012, conferred on him the title of ‘Chevalier dans l’Ordre des Arts et Lettres’ (Chevalier in the Order of Arts and Letters) in recognition of his contribution to promoting the French language, and culture, in Sri Lanka.
In celebration of his four decades on the small screen, Kumar recently launched ‘Bonsoir Katha’, the Sinhala translation (by Ciara Mendis) of his English book ‘Bonsoir Diaries’ (2013), at a gala soiree. at the Alliance Francaise de Colombo, under the distinguished patronage of the French Ambassador in Sri Lanka, Remi Lambert, and francophone President Chandrika Kumaratunga.
He’s now excited about launching the French version of this book, ‘Les Coulisses de Bonsoir’, in Paris, in autumn this year. It is currently being translated by Guilhem Beugnon, a former Deputy Director of the Alliance Francaise de Colombo. This will, co-incidentally, also be Kumar’s 30th visit to Paris.

Chief Guest French Ambassador in Sri
Lanka Remi Lambert
Says Kumar: “The word GRATITUDE means a lot to me and so I always make it a point to spend time with two very special French people every time I go to France. One is Madame Josiane Thureau, formerly of the French Foreign Ministry, who began ‘Bonsoir’ in Sri Lanka. way back in the mid-1980s. The other is Madame Aline Berengier, the lady who designed the ‘Bonsoir’ logo – the Sri Lankan elephant in the colours of the French national flag”.
Kumar is also a much-sought-after Personal Development and Corporate Etiquette Coach in Colombo’s corporate world. Over the past 15 years, tens of thousands of corporates, have been through the different modules of his interactive training sessions. There have also been thousands of school leavers and undergraduates from national and private universities, many of whom will constitute the corporates of tomorrow.

Guest of Honour francophone President Chandrika Kumaratunga at the gala soiree
at the Alliance Francaise de Colombo
The multi-talented Kumar turns 65 next year, and his journey on the small screen still continues – you see him on the (monthly) ‘Rendez-Vous with Yasmin and Kumar’ on the French Embassy’s YouTube Channel, and (every Friday) on ‘Fame Game with Rozanne and Kumar’ on Daily Mirror Online, Hi Online and The Sun Online.
There’s yet another podcast in the pipeline, he indicated, but diplomatically declined to give us details. All he said, with a glint in his eye, was, “It will hit your screens soon.”
Whatever he has in mind, one can be certain that the new programme will continue to showcase Kumar de Silva’s enduring presence in Sri Lanka’s entertainment scene.
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