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Jungle trek with tappal runner Kalua: Laggala — Pallegama in 1947

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By Frederick Medis

It was 1947, and everywhere there was the lingering post-war euphoria of victory in the Second World War in which Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) had played a significant role with Lord Louis Mountbatten’s South-East Asia Command headquarters in Kandy. By now British, American, African and Indian troops had ceased to be evident in most of the populated areas, and the skies were free of the continual droning of British fighter airplanes as they rummaged the skies.

The Soulbury Commission had made its recommendations. Our college class studying the subject of government had been asked to go to the Colombo Town Hall and listen to some of the submissions and recommendations. Food scarcities and queues were quietly being eliminated, but prices were stabilizing at higher levels. The war had brought money into the hands and purses of many people, and a noveau riche was emerging. The five-cent emergency currency-note of June 1,, 1942 (divisible into two and three cents values) was slowly going out of use. The British Government had followed a policy of issuing low denomination currency as being the most effective method of stalling inflation.

Invitation to Laggala-Pallegama

I had just passed 20, and was awaiting results of the university entrance examination. Time was hanging heavy on my hands when, along with my parents and my sister, I attended the wedding reception of a family friend at the Silver Fawn Ballroom. This was one of Colombo’s fashionable places at the time; there were only three recognized hotels in Colombo and another in Mount Lavinia.

At this wedding reception I met a childhood friend and her husband, a planter of Eurasian descent, James Gibbs Martin. He was a happy-go-lucky man and a few years elder to me. He was interested in places connected with history and wildlife. While on a short holiday in the fast developing tea estate at Panwila in August 1945, we had explored what was then the dense jungle fastness of Hunasgiriya peak. Miles and miles of jungle were there with little life at all, both human and animal. Today it is vastly different.

We got into conversation and they invited me to spend a few days on the remote tea estate where he was now stationed temporarily. “Come”, he said, “to be in Kandy at night. Then at 5.20 in the morning take the train to Matale. From Matale there is a bus to Rattota, a sleepy village. Inquire at the Rattota Post Office and they will direct you to the only vehicle which plies the route.” (This “bus” was a small-sized converted lorry with strapped-on wooden benches and open wire grills for windows on either side.) “This makeshift bus will leave at about 9 am. They will charge you 40 cents as fare. It will stop a short distance from the rocky roadway leading to the small bungalow on Laggala Estate. The road that the bus travels is about 10 miles distant. It is narrow, rough and boulder-strewn. But hopefully, you can be with us for lunch by one o’clock in the afternoon.”

The description and the veiled warning forebode a journey of adventure, and I listened with ears and eyes wide open. Naturally, I agreed instinctively (with my parents’ permission). “Write,” they said, “before you come. There is no telephone communication. But in any case it does not matter. We are lonely out there and only the servants, estate workers and trackers are there in the vicinity.” I promised to write.

Rattota via Kandy and Matale

It was just before the Vesak festival in May that I decided to go. The evening train from Colombo Fort took me to Kandy for 90 cents in a third class compartment. At Kandy, it was too late to get to the home of friends in Suduhumpola. Besides, I had to be up and ready to board the 5.20 am train to Matale while it was still dark. I stayed in the rest room, where there was nobody else. The lounge chair was bug-infested. So I slept on the large table in the centre. A fair-sized cut-out of soft plastic, which I had brought with me, served as a good spread. It had served the purpose of a protective barrage balloon over ships in Colombo harbour during the war, and was freely available for sale in the Pettah at the time.

I was up at four in the morning, with the huffing and puffing of steam engines of trains serving as an alarm clock. I washed, ate some biscuits with plain tea from my vacuum flask (milk-tea gets spoilt after some hours) and I was ready.

My luggage consisted of my canvas boy-scout haversack in which I carried a change of clothes, a camera which was a gift from my father, a tripod stand for use with the automatic self-timing shutter, a vacuum flask and some miscellaneous essentials including aspirin, iodine, cotton wool and sticking plaster. For some unaccountable reason, in addition to biscuits, I had taken three anamalu plantains and a generous helping of jaggery cut into manageable pieces.

The train to Matale had a fair number of passengers. On reaching Matale, I crammed along with my haversack into the first available bus, which was shaped like Cinderella’s coach, and reached Rattota. I was shown the post office, which had not yet opened for business. I spent the extra time gainfully watching some well-cared for and trained Sinhala game-cocks tethered to a clump of plantain bushes down the shadowed slope on the opposite side of the road.

The owner, a bare-chested stalwart, was happy to discuss game-fowl characteristics with me. A few years earlier I had joined as a junior member of the Ceylon Poultry Club and by now I owned a few Sinhala game-birds, which had won awards at exhibitions. When he learnt where I was going, the man told me that the bus would not ply the route that day, as it was under repair. This was disturbing news.

When the post office opened, I renewed my inquiry regarding the bus. The officials confirmed the bad news. When they found out that I was determined, if necessary, to walk, they told me that it was a long and circuitous route of 17 miles to Pallegama, through streams and dense jungles infested by bear, wild boar and an occasional leopard. It was impossible, they told me disparagingly. I would get lost, and most likely never return.

Jungle walk with Kalua

However, there was a ray of hope, for soon after 9 am Kalua, the tappal-runner would leave the post office with the mail bag. I could go with him, if I was so inclined. They warned me: “You have to keep pace with him; he walks fast through the jungle. Don’t lag too far behind. You are inexperienced, and the jungle is dangerous.”

I had come this far, and I was determined to go on. I was wearing khaki shorts, my scout shirt with its numerous pockets, belt and pith hat. The haversack was strapped round my shoulders. I wore khaki hose-tops, for I probably thought of leeches, and comparatively new leather shoes with light-coloured compressed rubber soles.

A postal officer introduced me to Kalua. He was a dapper, black-complexioned man, as the name implied, nearly six feet tall, bare-footed and wearing a grey-brown sarong about 10 inches above ground, with a brass-buttoned official black serge coat. When told that I was keen to join him, Kalua grunted his approval. Aside, he spoke a few words to those who were sealing the smaller bags to be enclosed in the large canvas sack to be carried by him. I gathered from his gesticulations that what he was saying was “I have no time to waste. If he is slow I will leave him behind.”

The postmaster, as I guessed him to be, edged close to me. He said, “Don’t take off your shoes. Your feet are not used to the sharp rocks and thorns like our tappal-runner.” I nodded my thanks.

By now Kalua was ready. “Yamu (let’s go)”, he said bluntly and somewhat condescendingly. Impulsively, I moved forward at a steady pace behind him, with shoes and all.

For about one mile of descent, Kalua’s sturdy frame pushed through narrow jungle paths where there was evidence of at least some agricultural use. We were now leaving the semi-cultivated land and moving upwards for half a mile through brushwood and patna with sparse and heavily foliaged, gnarled trees.

The scene then changed. An occasional grunt made my muscles tense, but I was relieved to realize it came not from an animal, but from my leader and guide. Both Kalua and I took cautious steps as it was evident that hidden under the bushes with innocent-looking leaves were sharp drops that hid dangerous ravines and streams.

We had now reached an open valley. The gurgling sound indicated that there was a fast-moving stream winding over both sharp and rounded rocks of massive proportions. Kalua, balancing the mail-bag on his head, walked steadily through the water gushing a few inches below the knee. Above the sound of the rumbling water, he shouted to me to keep to the identical path he was taking. As there was no time for me to take off my footwear, I plunged in after the leader, with shoes and hose-tops to boot.

The upward climb through a heavily wooded area was not easy, especially with the fair weight of my haversack. It was then that I noted his feet. They were broad, strong and the toes splayed apart. This gave him a firm grip of whatever came in contact with them. This man walked with unusually erect posture. He was balancing the canvas postal bag vertically and sometimes horizontally on his head without the aid of his hands, except when he bent under creepers and low branches.

In his right hand he held something like a light manne knife and a nail about six inches long. From a cord on his left wrist was suspended a thin metal plate about two inches by five inches in size. He struck the nail on the plate from time to time, much like an alarm bell, whenever we crept through the bushes. Each alarm he sounded four or five times in a staccato rhythm. In the still silence of the morning it echoed, specially in those areas where a stray wind was swaying the low trees.

Kalua was a strong and bold man. How intrepid he was became evident to me when we were in a dense jungle area where he cut his way through the creepers and the tall, slender undergrowth, while I followed in his footsteps. The pathway he had cleared two days earlier had to be cut once again, so fast did the jungle regain its lush strength after the light rains.

In front of us was a sizeable mound, partly hidden by bushes and wild creepers. There was no other way in which we could move out except by going round the hillock. Trees on the sides were too dense and their huge trunks of wide circumference would daunt anyone thinking of going through their interstices.

Kalua moved round the hillock and I followed. And then I saw what made me tremble. Kalua simultaneously turned round with the bag gyrating on his head to keep direction. Looking at me he clamped his four fingers and thumb over his mouth. This was in much the same way that a school teacher places her index finger vertically over her lips, indicating that the pupils must keep silence.

On the mound I saw them; there were four black bears, three large and one small. Two were stamping around, and we heard the sound of loose earth being scattered on the leaves in front of us as they clawed the dry ant-hill, which was a fairly large termites’ nest.

Kalua paused momentarily, and without any hasty movement, indicated that I follow him in close formation. I was trembling. The sight was a menacing one, and the bears were above us about four yards away. After the encounter, Kalua was more relaxed and spoke occasionally.

As we passed the area of wet vegetation resulting from light rain, there arose from the ravine an uninterrupted sound of shrieking whistles, five or six long calls of high and low-pitched notes resembling a hen’s cackle, but reaching a crescendo and then going lower down the scale. This continued for a long time on a raucous, almost quarrelsome note. Without my inquiring, Kalua volunteered the information that it was the call of the Ceylon spur fowl (haban-kukula). He told me that we would perhaps see them if we were fortunate enough.

We continued to climb over the incline of what appeared to be a semi-montane wilderness, but the trees, though shorter, let in more streaks of sunlight on the dry decayed leaves which formed a thick carpet over the long and broad supporting roots. I asked Kalua about leeches. He grunted again, as the question appeared absurd to him. In any case, who bothered about leeches?

Then we heard the clattering as about 30 red-faced monkeys (rilaw) were swaying high up in the trees. They were a diversion. Kalua informed me that we were approaching a jungle clearing where three families chose to plant millet and kurakkan in the valley fed by a small ravine. They were a good distance away from the rest of humanity.

We came upon them in a few minutes. A tiny straw-thatched hut served as a small boutique, but there was nothing to buy except a welcome cup of plain tea, and of course some dried fish, dried game meat, kurakkan seed and wood-apple. These were not on display but brought out only when there was a wayfarer who stopped by. They said that monkeys were thieves and nothing could be kept exposed.

Kalua gave the order for boiling water for tea, while I gladly pulled off my haversack and slumped on the sliced log-seat placed on two flat stones in the compound. Although there was ample room on the seat, Kalua refused to sit with me. He preferred to squat on his haunches. Two middle-aged women and two men, who were sparsely clad, fetched and boiled water for tea on an open hearth fed by dry twigs.

Kalua sniffed at and declined the round kurakkan rotti, which was placed on a flat, woven mat-tray. He drew up the sleeves of his black coat and showed me two long welted scars on his forearm. “This is what a bear did to me one morning in the jungle. I did not see him in time.” He had also lost part of a little finger in the fray.

While we sat waiting for the tea to brew, the two men asked me some questions. I answered as best as I could, but most of the words were strange to me as the Sinhala they spoke had a peculiar drawl and accentuation. Kalua therefore answered for me. He was a familiar figure to them and was a link with the world outside the jungle. They were able to gather from him information relevant to their lonely lives, and they awaited his twice-weekly arrivals to and fro.

He would go alone through the jungle to Laggala, Illukkumbura, Makumbura and Laggala-Pallegama. Then he would rest for a day and come back to Rattota with mail for onward transmission through Matale and Kandy.

The cost of the two cups of tea was two cents, and I paid with two copper one-cent coins I had in my bag. This was about the price anywhere in the country at that time. Instead of sugar they gave us a spoonful of tal sukiri, a type of jaggery, to the palm of the hand.

Refreshed, Kalua sprang to his feet, as he had no time to lose.

After we had walked for about a mile in silence, Kalua asked me why I was going to the jungle tea estate of Laggala, which he knew. I told him I had friends there. Again he grunted. When I asked whether anyone else had made the trek with him earlier, he said there was no need for company. He knew the jungle well enough, and there had been tappal runners who carried staves for defence and bells for scaring away the wild animals.

He had hardly finished speaking when two large sambhur stopped in their tracks a few yards ahead of us with a young fawn on slender quivering legs. They looked at us and almost immediately ran across with a thumping sound on the dry earth. It was a beautiful sight. “As I was telling you,” Kalua said, “today there are fewer animals. They cannot harm us. They are afraid of us.”

He told me he was brought up as a young boy in a walauwa (stately home) with many children. He was their servant and messenger, and later the master arranged with the postal authorities for him to serve as a tappal-runner. They had been kind to him and even given him a small outhouse in the walauwa garden where he stayed and did odd jobs during his free time.

By now the uphill climb and the downhill drag were making me feel hungry and exhausted. If I lagged behind I would lose my way, for other than Kalua there was no human being in sight. Then it occurred to me that in my haversack were plantains and pieces of jaggery. This was a wonderful discovery. I offered Kalua his share, but he took only the plantains. Within a minute of taking a few bites, I was back to normal with revived energy. I plodded on, ready to walk many more miles.

Ahead of us, in a partly open area with low bushes, we heard a persistent series of short grunts. As the bushes moved to and fro, we stopped to watch an amazing struggle between two full-grown porcupines as they came to the open patch of jungle. They were contending for a point of vantage. Instead of facing each other, they were turning around in semi-circles so that they attacked by backward thrusts in order that the sharp quills would injure the exposed part of the opponent.

At first I thought it was a mating ritual, but soon we heard the rattling sounds of the quills grating, mixed with the low pitched sniffs and grunts. It was for me an interesting combat, but Kalua decided to move on.

Within minutes after this encounter, we were confronted only a short distance away by the tall grasses being flattened. Kalua showed me a grey-black wild sow with about a dozen piglings as they moved very fast trampling the mana grass. He stopped until they were out of sight, and then he uttered one sentence: “They are dangerous”.

The sun was now right above us as we came to a dense jungle of low trees. Kalua set to work with his knife, as he struck at the wild creepers and slender twigs that blocked our path. Our progress was slowed down, but when we finally emerged, there was open country, desolate except for the omnipresent low bushes.

I was cautioned to be on my guard. There was an animal that soon made its way out, and to our relief it was a peacock that nuzzled its way out of the grass. In a jerky way it rose in the air with its bedraggled, cumbersome tail folded behind. Within seconds it was followed by two peahens making persistent, awkward noises.

The heat had made me thirsty. Before I could communicate this to Kalua, he moved to a rocky outcrop where we drank from a cascade of cool gushing water.

I looked at my watch. It was nearly 2 pm. Above and beyond the canopy of trees I now saw smoke coming from the kitchen chimney of a large zinc-roofed house half a mile away. There was a sense of relief when Kalua announced we had almost arrived. I could then see patches of tea with some shade trees on an estate.

While we were within sight of the bungalow, he told me it was time to part company. I thanked him for all his help, and the protection and advice he had offered me. When I took out from my purse a new King George VI one-rupee currency note and gave it to him, he politely refused to take it.

As I moved forward and away from him, he paused to watch me go, and even at a distance he cautioned me to move slowly across the narrow metal bridge, which had no balustrades. When about 25 yards away, as the dogs started barking, my friend’s wife appeared in the doorway. As soon as she recognized me, I turned round to Kalua and asked him whether he would come in. He grunted, shook his head and was on his way where duty called.

His help made the journey possible, and naturally I was grateful to him. I had earlier heard of postal runners, whose duty was to distribute on foot letters from a post office to distant, out of the way villages, but this was the first time I had seen one. With time, their breed has suffered a natural death.

(To be continued)

(Excerpted from Jungle Journeys in Sri Lanka edited by CG Uragoda)



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Features

Trump-Xi meet more about economics rather than politics

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President Donald Trump meets President Xi Jinping in Beijing: Mutually beneficial ties aimed at. (CNN)

The fact that some of the US’ topmost figures in business, such as Tesla chief Elon Musk and major US chipmaker Jensen Huang of NVIDIA fame, occupied as nearly a prominent a position as President Donald Trump at the recent ‘historic and landmark’ visit by the latter to China underscores the continuing vital importance of business in US-China ties. Business seemed to outweigh politics to a considerable degree in importance during the visit although the political dimension in US-China ties appeared to be more ‘headline grabbing’.

To be sure, the political dimension cannot be downplayed. For very good reason China could be seen as holding the power balance somewhat evenly between East and West. The international politics commentator couldn’t be seen as overstating the case if he takes the position that China could exercise substantial influence over the East currently; that is Russia and Iran, in the main. The latter powers hold the key in the Eastern hemisphere to shaping international politics in the direction of further war or of influencing it towards a measure of peace.

For example, time and again China has prevented the West from ‘having its own way’, so to speak, in the UN Security Council, for instance, in respect of the ongoing conflicts involving Russia and Iran, by way of abstaining from voting or by vetoing declarations that it sees as deleterious. That is, China has been what could be seen as a ‘moderating influence’ in international politics thus far. It has helped to keep the power balance somewhat intact between East and West.

At present a meet is ongoing between Chinese President Xi Jinping and Russian President Vladimir Putin in Beijing. This happened almost immediately after the Trump visit. Apparently, Beijing is in an effort to project itself as treating the US and Russia even-handedly while underscoring that it is no ‘special friend’ of the US or the West.

This effort at adopting a non-partisan stance on contentious questions in international politics is also seen in Beijing’s policy position on the Hormuz tangle and issues growing out of it. The Chinese authorities are quoted as saying in this regard, for instance, that China is for ‘a comprehensive and lasting ceasefire in the Middle East’.

Such a position has the effect of enhancing the perception that China is even-handed in its handling of divisive foreign policy posers. It is not openly anti-West nor is it weighing in with Iran and other Eastern actors that are opposed to the West in the West Asian theatre. A ‘comprehensive and lasting ceasefire’ implies that a solution needs to be arrived at that would be seen as fair by all quarters concerned.

On the highly sensitive Taiwan issue, President Xi was comparatively forthright during the Trump visit, but here too it was plain to see that Beijing was not intent on introducing a jarring, discordant note into the ongoing, largely cordial discussions with Washington. On the Taiwan question President Xi was quoted saying: ‘If mishandled, the two nations could collide even come into conflict.’ In other words, the US was cautioned that China’s interests need to be always borne in mind in its handling of the Taiwan issue.

The cautioning had the desired result because Trump in turn had reportedly conveyed to Taiwan that the latter’s concerns on the matter of independence had to be handled discreetly. He had told Taiwan plainly not to declare ‘independence.’

Accordingly, neither the US nor China had said or done anything that would have made either party lose face during their interaction. Apparently, both sides were sensitive to each others’ larger or national interests. And the economic interests of both powers were foremost among the latter considerations.

There is no glossing over or ignoring economic interests in the furtherance of ties between states. They are primal shaping forces of foreign policies and the fact that ‘economics drives politics’ is most apparent in US-China ties. That is, economic survival is fundamental.

Among the more memorable quotes from President Xi during the interaction, which also included US business leaders, was the following: ‘China’s doors will be open wider’ and US firms would have ‘broader prospects in the Chinese market.’

Xi went on to say that the sides had agreed to a ‘new positioning for ties’ based on ‘constructive strategic stability’. The implication here is that both sides would do well not to undermine existing, mutually beneficial economic relations in view of the wider national interests of both powers that are served by a continuation of these economic ties. That is, the way forward, in the words of the Chinese authorities, is ‘win-win cooperation.’

It is the above pronouncements by the Chinese authorities that probably led President Trump to gush that the talks were ‘very successful’ and of ‘historic and landmark’ importance. Such sentiments should only be expected of a billionaire US President, bent on economic empire-building.

One of the most important deals that were put through reportedly during the interaction was a Chinese agreement to buy some 200 Boeing jets and a ‘potential commitment to buy an additional 750 planes.’ However, details were not forthcoming on other business deals that may have been hatched.

Accordingly, from the viewpoint of the protagonists the talks went off well and the chances are that the sides would stand to gain substantially from unruffled future economic ties. However, there was no mention of whether the health of the world economy or the ongoing conflicts in West Asia were taken up for discussion.

Such neglect is regretful. Although the veritable economic power houses of the world, the US and China, are likely to thrive in the short and medium terms and their ruling strata could be expected to benefit enormously from these ongoing economic interactions the same could not be said of most of the rest of the world and its populations.

Needless to say, the ongoing oil and gas crisis, for instance, resulting from the conflict situation in West Asia, is taking a heavy toll on the majority of the world’s economies and the relevant publics. While no urgent intervention to ease the lot of the latter could be expected from the Trump administration there is much that China could do on this score.

China could use its good offices with the US to address the negative fallout on the poorer sections of the world from the present global economic crunch and urge the West to help in introducing systemic changes that could facilitate these positive outcomes. After all, China remains a socialist power.

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The Quiet Shift: China as America’s “+1” in a Changing World Order

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Xi and Trump

“Everything ever said to me by any Chinese of any station during any visit was part of an intricate design”

— Henry Kissinger

That design may already be complete before this week’s , a meeting that could shape the future balance of global power.

The wind arrives quietly. By the time it is heard, history has already begun to turn. Across Asia, that wind is no longer distant. It carries with it the exhaustion of an old order and the uncertain birth of another. The question now is not whether the world will change. It is whether those who hold power possess the wisdom to guide that change toward something less violent than the century behind us.

Since 1945, the United States has carried the burden of a global order built with its Western allies. To its credit, the world avoided another direct world war between great powers. The conflicts remained contained in distant lands—proxy wars fought in the shadows of ideology, oil, and influence. From Latin America to Asia, the American century expanded not only through prosperity, but through intervention. Yet empires, even democratic ones, grow tired. Fatigue settles slowly into institutions, alliances, and public memory. The role of global policeman no longer inspires certainty in Washington as it once did.

The “rules-based order” now confronts its own contradiction: it was built to be universal, yet it often appeared selective. During my recent visit to , a young researcher asked me quietly, “Does the West itself still believe in the rules-based order?” The question lingered long after the conversation ended. The rising century demands a more inclusive architecture—one that recognises the reality of Asian power, especially China.

My three years of field research across South and Southeast Asia, documented in , revealed a transformation too significant to dismiss as temporary. China has moved beyond being merely a competitor to the United States. In trade, infrastructure, technology, cultural diplomacy, and economic influence, Beijing has established itself as what may be called the world’s “US +1.”

Great powers often search for such a partner. History shows this tendency clearly. When an empire becomes overextended—burdened by wars, alliances, sanctions, tariffs, and crises—it seeks another center of gravity to stabilize the system it can no longer manage alone. The United States today faces disorder stretching from Venezuela to Iran, from Ukraine to the unsettled Middle East. In this landscape, China emerges not simply as a rival, but as a state powerful enough to broker peace where Washington alone no longer can.

Drawing from the lessons of the Nixon–Mao era, warned that “” The United States and China are now engaged in a long-term economic, technological, political, and strategic competition. Managing that competition wisely may become the defining challenge of this century. In such a deeply polarized and unstable world, recognising China as a “US +1” partner is not surrender, but strategic realism.

Donald Trump understood this reality before boarding his flight to meet Xi Jinping. Their meeting inside Zhongnanhai—the guarded compound where China’s leadership governs—was never merely ceremonial. It symbolized a deeper recognition already acknowledged quietly within the itself: China is the nearest peer competitor the United States has ever confronted. Before departing Washington, Trump seemed to reassess not only China’s strength, but its unavoidable position as a “” shaping the future global balance.

Yet the significance of a Trump–Xi meeting extends beyond trade wars, tariffs, or diplomatic spectacle. It presents an opportunity to confront two crises shaping the century ahead: global energy insecurity and regional instability. Washington increasingly understands the limits of direct engagement with Tehran. Decades of pressure, sanctions, and confrontation have produced exhaustion rather than resolution. In that vacuum, Beijing now possesses leverage that Washington does not.

For China, this is an opportunity to evolve from a development partner into a security actor. Xi Jinping’s (GSI) was never designed merely as rhetoric. It was intended as the next phase of Chinese influence—transforming economic dependence into strategic trust. The geopolitical spillover from the Iranian conflict now offers Beijing a historic opening to project itself as a stabilising force in the region, not against the United States, but alongside it as a “US +1” partner.

If China succeeds in helping stabilise the Gulf and secure energy corridors vital to Asia, it will reshape perceptions of Chinese power globally. Beijing would no longer be seen only as the builder of ports, railways, and industrial zones, but as a guarantor of regional balance. This transition—from infrastructure diplomacy to security diplomacy—may become one of the defining geopolitical shifts of the coming decade.

Xi Jinping does not seek open confrontation. His strategy is older, more patient, and perhaps more formidable because of its restraint. Beijing speaks not of domination, but of a “,” advanced through three instruments of influence: the Global Development Initiative (GDI), the Global Security Initiative (GSI), and the Global Civilization Initiative (GCI). These are not slogans alone. Across Asia, many governments increasingly trust China as a development partner more than any other power.

India, despite its ambitions, has not matched this scale of regional penetration. In both ASEAN and South Asia, China’s economic gravity is felt more deeply. Ports, railways, technology networks, and financial dependency have altered the geopolitical map quietly, without the spectacle of war.

In , I compared three inward-looking national strategies shaping Asia today: Trump’s MAGA, Modi’s emerging economic nationalism , and Xi’s strategy. Among them, China has demonstrated the greatest structural resilience. Faced with American tariffs and decoupling pressures, Beijing diversified its supply chains across Central Asia, Europe, and Southeast Asia. Rail corridors now connect Chinese industry to European markets through Eurasia. ASEAN has surpassed the United States as China’s largest trading partner, while the European Union follows closely behind. Exports to America have declined sharply, yet China continues to expand. Trump, once defined by confrontation, now arrives seeking a new “” with China—an acknowledgment that economic rivalry alone can no longer define the relationship between the world’s two largest powers.

Unlike Washington, which increasingly retreats from multilateral institutions, Beijing presents itself as the defender of multilateralism. Whether genuine or strategic matters less than perception. In geopolitics, perception often becomes reality.

What emerges, then, is not surrender between rivals, but interdependence between powers too large to isolate one another. The future may not belong to a bipolar Cold War, but to a reluctant coexistence. The United States now recognises that China possesses diversified markets and partnerships capable of reducing dependence on America. China, in turn, understands that its long march toward global primacy still requires strategic engagement with the United States.

This is where the true geopolitical shift begins.

Many analysts continue to frame China solely as a threat. Yet history rarely moves through absolutes. The next world order may not be built through confrontation alone, but through uneasy partnership. Artificial intelligence, technological supremacy, economic stability, and global governance now demand cooperation between Washington and Beijing, whether either side admits it publicly or not.

Trump will likely celebrate his personal relationship with Xi, presenting himself as the American leader capable of negotiating a “better deal” with China than his predecessors. But beneath the rhetoric lies something larger: the gradual acceptance of China’s indispensable role in shaping the future international order.

Even the question of war increasingly returns to Beijing. If Washington seeks an understanding with Tehran, China’s influence becomes unavoidable. Iran listens to Beijing in ways it no longer listens to the West. This alone signals how profoundly the balance of power has shifted. And Xi, careful as always, refuses to openly inherit the mantle of global leadership. He delays, softens, and obscures intention. It is part of a longer strategy: to rise without provoking the final resistance of a declining hegemon too early.

History rarely announces its turning point. Empires fade slowly, while new powers rise quietly beneath the noise of the old order. Washington still holds immense power, but Beijing increasingly holds the patience, reach, and strategic depth to shape what comes after.

The century ahead may not belong to one power alone, but to the uneasy balance between Washington and Beijing. And in that silence, a new world order is already taking shape.

By Asanga Abeyagoonasekera

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Egypt … here I come

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Chit-Chat Nethali Withanage

Three months ago, 19-year-old Nethali Withanage, with Brian Kerkoven as her mentor, walked the ramp at Colombo Fashion Week. On 06 June, she’ll walk for Sri Lanka in Hurghada, Egypt, as the country’s delegate to Top Model of the World 2026._

I caught up with Nethali as she prepares to fly out, this weekend, and here’s how our chit-chat went:

1. Tell me something about yourself?

I’m someone who blends creativity with ambition. I’ve always loved expressing myself, whether it’s through fashion, styling, or the way I present myself to the world. At the same time, I’m very driven and disciplined, especially when I was working, as a student counsellor, at Campus One, at a young age, where I’ve learned how to connect with people, understand them, and communicate with confidence. I believe I’m still evolving, and that’s what excites me the most … becoming better every single day.

2. What made you decide to be a model?

Modelling felt natural to me because it combines everything I love – fashion, confidence, and storytelling without words. I realised that modelling isn’t just about appearance, it’s about presence and how you carry your energy. I wanted to be part of an industry where I could express different sides of myself, while inspiring others to feel confident in their own skin.

3. What sets you apart from other models?

I would say my ability to connect. Whether it’s with the camera, a brand, or an audience, I bring authenticity. I also have a strong background in communication and sales, which gives me an edge in understanding how to represent a brand, not just wear it. I don’t want to just model clothes, I want to bring them to life.

4. What clothing do you prefer to model?

I enjoy modelling versatile styles, but I’m especially drawn to elegant and expressive fashion pieces that tells a story. I love looks that allow me to embody confidence and femininity, whether it’s a structured outfit or something soft and flowing.

5. What is the most important aspect of modelling?

Confidence combined with professionalism. Confidence allows you to own the moment, but professionalism ensures that you respect the work, the team, and the brand you represent. Both are equally important.

6. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

I would say I’m learning to trust myself more and not overthink. I’ve realised that growth comes from embracing who you are, not constantly trying to change it. So instead of changing something, I’m focused on becoming more confident in my own voice.

7. School?

I did my O/Ls at Seventh Day Adventist High School Kandana, and, while at school, I was actively involved in creative activities. I enjoyed participating in English Day events that allowed me to express myself and interact with others. Those experiences helped me build confidence, teamwork, and communication skills, which continue to shape who I am today.

8. Happiest moment?

One of my happiest moments is realising how far I’ve come from being unsure of myself to stepping into opportunities, like modelling, and representing myself with confidence. That feeling of growth is something I truly value, and also a dream come true!

9. Your idea of perfect happiness?

Perfect happiness for me is peace of mind, being surrounded by people I love, doing what I’m passionate about, and feeling proud of who I am becoming.

10. Your ideal guy?

My ideal partner is someone who is respectful, supportive, and confident in himself. Someone who values growth, understands my ambitions, and encourages me to be the best version of myself.

11. Which living person do you most admire?

I admire strong, self-made individuals who have built their identity through hard work and resilience. People who stay true to themselves, despite challenges, inspire me, because they show that success is not just about talent, but also about strength and consistency.

12. Your most treasured possession?

My most treasured possession is my confidence. It’s something I’ve built over time, and it allows me to face challenges, take opportunities, and believe in myself, even when things are uncertain.

13. If you were marooned on a desert island, who would you like as your companion?

I would choose someone who is calm, positive, and resourceful, someone who can turn a difficult situation into an adventure. The right mindset matters more than anything.

14. Your most embarrassing moment?

I’m 19 and still haven’t faced any most embarrassing moment. But I would say I’ve had small moments where things didn’t go as planned, but I’ve learned to laugh at myself. Those moments remind me that perfection isn’t necessary; confidence is about how you recover, not how you avoid mistakes.

15. Done anything daring?

Pursuing modelling and stepping into competitions is something I consider daring. It pushed me out of my comfort zone and challenged me to grow, both personally and professionally.

16. Your ideal vacation?

My ideal vacation would be somewhere peaceful, yet beautiful, like a beach destination where I can relax, reflect, and reconnect with myself, while enjoying nature.

17. What kind of music are you into?

I choose music that matches my mood at that time, whether it’s calm and relaxing or energetic and uplifting. Music is something that helps me express emotions and stay inspired.

18. Favourite radio station?

Usually I don’t listen to radio stations but whenever I get into a car I would search for Yes FM because it has a refined balance of contemporary hits and timeless music. I appreciate how it maintains a vibrant yet sophisticated energy, keeping listeners engaged while creating a consistently uplifting atmosphere. It’s something I enjoy because it adds a sense of positivity and elegance to my day.

19. Favourite TV station?

At the moment, I don’t have a television at home, but growing up, my favourite TV station was ‘Nickelodeon’. I genuinely loved the shows and series it aired; they were fun, creative, and full of personality. It was something I always looked forward to, and those memories still bring a sense of joy and nostalgia, whenever I think about it.

20. Any major plans for the future?

My future plans are to grow in the modelling industry, work with international brands, build a strong personal brand and finish completing a Bachelor’s Degree in Business Studies. At the same time, I want to explore my creative side further, especially in fashion and business, so I can create something of my own one day.

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