Features
Kohomba Kankariya, the sociology of a Kandyan ritual
Kohomba kankariya, the sociology of a Kandyan ritual,
by Sarath Amunugama
(Yapa Publications, Colombo, 2021).
Reviewed by Usvatte-aratchi
‘What we have described in this book are the halcyon days of Kandyan dancing….. ’ Amunugama.
Sarath Amunugama has put out a new book and it is on the Kohomba Kankariya. This is the first book on the subject that I read, although there are three others in Sinhala in my collection. Two of them are collections of kavi and other statements in the ritual. None of them describes the performance of a kankariya in detail, as Amunugama does.
Of them, the book that comes close to Amunugama’s concerns is that by Mudiyanse Dissanayaka, an accomplished artist and teacher (one time professor at the University of the Visual Arts in Colombo) of dancing. Dissanayake in the last chapter of his book deals with some concerns relevant to Amunugama’s subject matter: the sociology of the ritual. Amunugama’s Kohomba Kankariya is the first full length treatment of the subject. That is in contrast to the extensive attention paid to healing rituals in the southern coastal belt, by scholars, both local and foreign.
I am personally familiar with actual performances of sooniyama, sanni yakuma and rata yakuma, having seen them when I was a child and never forgot. I have never seen a kohomba kankariya live or on record. Amunugama writes a fine account of a kankariya which was performed in Rangamuwa, in 2015 in a village near his parents’ home. He himself was the prime mover organizing it. He also noted the distinction that other forms of dancing (panther, udakki, raban) in and around Kandy and were undertaken by high caste persons. After all he is ‘Kandy Man’. That itself makes reviewing this book difficult. It is partly personal and mostly professional. I shall try, nevertheless.
The book consists of three essays: the first sets before us, in exquisite detail, the performance of the ritual in Rangamuwa. While doing so, he explains to us the sociology of what goes on. The second essay on ves natum is an extraordinary foray into the emergence of scenes from rituals to the mainstream entertainment in Colombo: ‘….traditional culture….., shifting emphasis from ritual to commerce’. That shift was preceded by Kandyan dancing being introduced to western audiences, not as art but as acrobatics. The persons who brokered this transfer were a most unexpected lot. The third, the shortest is a collection of photographs, some in colour, of personages connected with the Rangamuva kohomba kankariya and other earlier celebrated dancers.
The reader would enjoy the systematic presentation of the kankariya. Here, I will offer a few comments on the sociology of it, well aware that I, no sociologist, dare to comment on the writings of a most brilliant student of the subject in the country. Amunugama has an ambitious plan in this essay: ‘ …. what I am attempting here is to prepare a schematic ‘frame’ into which all or most rituals can be incorporated. …….all local healing rituals have the same basic format…’. While the schemata that Amunugama presents is mostly complete, he misses a very substantial part of the of suniyama.
For several hours in the early hours of the following morning, yakdessa conduct various acts to remove all evil influences afflicting the aturaya. These include puhul kapima (cutting a cucumber), cutting tholabo (a kind of yam), dehi (lime) kapima, valalu kapima (the patient is put in a sort of cage made of cane and the cane is cut to set him/her free), symbolically removing all that afflicts him. Sirasa pada kavi comes in here. Finally, the whole atamagale, made of banana tree skins and gokkola (young coconut fronds’) in which the aturaya sat all night, is cut down. All this is furious activity with several yaddessa wielding knives is entirely exciting. It may be useful to consider that. Amunugama successfully analyses the kankariya in terms of this schemata.
I found the second essay the most engaging. Its subtitle is ‘from cosmic drama to street and stage spectacle’ announces to us the processes he analyses. The personages who facilitated that transfer of whom Amunugama writes are of equal interest, because those personages and dancers belonged in different worlds. But yesterday, ves natum was in kohomba kankariya in villages in kande uda rata. Today, corona permitting, we sit in the comfort of the balcony of the Queen’s Hotel and watch ves netum and sit in the Lionel Wendt and watch Chitrasena’s ‘karadiya’ or Ravi Bandhu lead a drum ensemble. Ves dancers play before potentates in Colombo or conduct a bride and bridegroom to the poruva in Guruva pattu far distant from Harispattu. How did that shift take place? What social forces enabled that change? Who were the agents who activated the process? Those are questions to which Amunugama provides answers, probably never final.
The kankariya and ves netum were performed by men of the berava caste, low in esteem in the hierarchy. Like almost all ritual healers among the Sinhala, these ritualists tilled some land from which they derived a meager income, which they supplemented from performing rituals. To dance before Europeans, to dance before royalty (Edward, the Prince of Wales) and before the Governor were some sort of manumission. When they travelled to Europe and US in late 19th century, and early 20th century as performers in circuses they not only earned some money but also stood in altered relations to their foreign employers.
For the Europeans, these dancers were exotic people from strange lands. From the beginning of the 16th century, when the Portuguese ventured south along the eastern coast of Africa, never far beyond to lose sight of land and went inland along Sierra Leone rivers they came across people quite unlike themselves and with manners and customs utterly foreign to them. The sailors came home and spoke of those wonders and exaggerated the unusual features so much so that there were stories of men from whose head trees grew. Gulliver’s Travels is an outcome from these fanciful stories.
Kings kept zoos of animals from tropical lands and humans who were different from themselves. Vimala Dharma Suriya I, when he became king in maha nuvara repeated this experience which he had witnessed in Lisbon. In 1917, P.B. Nugawela, a high caste potentate brought ves natum to the dalada perahera. Writes Amunugama, ‘…..the yakdessas…. had to be brought in as Sinhala society began to emerge from its feudal straitjacket’. The Ceylon National Congress, a political organization looking for identifying itself with national culture began to espouse Kandyan dancing.
In the 1930s, Western educated aesthetes in Colombo, the 43 Group led by George Keyt, ‘discovered’ these dancers and dances. Their photographs were published in Europe. The dancers appeared in exhibitions in Europe. The dancers ‘….(moved) away from the Kankariya to enter the global stage as dance performers and drummers’. ‘Nittawela Gunaya, the finest exponent of the Kandyan dance on stage…. was not interested in the Kankariya ritual’. The same could be said of Sri Jayana. Those processes need further analysis.
A high official in the department of education in the late 1930s, S.L.B Sapukotana, was enthusiastic about teaching Kandyan dancing in all schools. Such change would have given a new social status to members of the berava caste and of course raised their incomes. In 1947 or so, Mr. Punchi Banda arrived in the then remote little town Hikkaduva, where I was a student, to teach Kandyan dancing. And we learnt the first steps ‘thei, thei’ and a few days later ‘thei kita, kita thei ‘. We first danced the musaladi (Tamil for a hare) vannama. That process has gone on and now many children in most schools learn Kandyan dancing.
The clothing of ritualists in the coastal belt have changed, influenced by the costumes of Kandyan dancers. The all white cloth from the waist to the ankles that ritualists in the south wore now has red and blue lines at the ankles. Drummers who sometimes tied a white piece of cloth round their heads now wear an elaborate headdress copying dancers in the Kandyan tradition. Many cultural practices from the hills have been adopted by those in the plains, e.g. wedding suits have changed from European to thuppotti. Brides now mostly commonly adorn themselves with Kandyan sari and matching jewellery. These phenomena, someone needs to inquire into.
The most striking transfer of rituals to the proscenium theatre was brought about by Ediriweera Sarachchandra, when he wrote and directed Maname nadagama. The story was from the jataka potha. It was a village ritual, more entertainment, that was played over seven evenings on a village heath. Sarachchandra brought it on stage as a sophisticated play that lasted a mere two hours. He went to the same well, the jataka pota, for fresh themes and we had kada valalu (in which Amunugama acted), pemato jayato soko, loma hansa while hasti kanta mantare was from the dhammapadattha kata. This well seems to have been beyond the depths of those that came after Sarachchandra. These are subjects for broader and deeper inquiry.
In the last essay Amunugama presents a series of ‘….photographs of the kankariya and its associated personnel’. Here and elsewhere in the book, there are photographs of dancers like Gunaya, Suramba, his two sons Sumanaweera and Samaraweera and Chitrasena. There are also pictures of Lionel Wendt and George Keyt.
I conclude.
Diversion to Pali grammar.
On page 18, Amunugama presents a stanza which he says, ‘identifies the hopes and prayers of Sinhala Buddhists’. In homes of many people in this country, this stanza is heard, often several times a day.
devo vassatu kaalena- sassa sampatti hetu ca
pito bhavatu loko ca- raja bhavatu dhammiko.
He translated it as follows: ‘may Gods bring rain in due season- cause our livelihoods to prosper/may the populace be happy and may the ruler be righteous’. I have seen the same stanza, as presented here, in a number of places. As I found its grammar intriguing, I inquired where it was copied from. I learnt that it came from H.W.Codrington’s, A short History of Ceylon, published in 1926.
There are several problems with both copying the stanza and its translation. All the verbs are in the benedictive mood, singular number: vassatu (pl.vassantu), hotu (pl.hontu) and bhavatu (pl.bhavantu) The verb in the second line is hotu not hetu. The benedictive verb in Pali has this ‘tu’ ending. Then, devo vassatu kalena is singular and the subject cannot be in the plural: Gods. The fact is that devo, is rain or water (devo vassati is the Pali equivalent of ‘It rains’. Rhys Davids, Pali Dictionary). Then devo vassatu kaalena says ‘may it rain in season’. In the second line, the words hetu ca was copied for Codrington, wrong. There is a word hetu as in ‘ye dhamma hetuppabhava’, attributed to Sariputta. ‘hetu’ here means cause (noun). In contrast, hotu means ‘may there be’, the benedictive form of hoti (plural: honti, to be). So all three verbs are in the benedictive mood: vassatu, hotu and bhavatu. tu ending also occurs in another usage. ‘aham gaccatu kamo.’ (I like to go); or ‘bilalo musike khadatu kamo (a cat likes to eat mice’). Ca is a common conjunction equivalent to ‘and’. The translation of the line is, ‘may crops (literally, cereals) be plentiful’. There are no problems with the last two lines, except perhaps to note that raja is singular, (plural rajano, an irregular declension.) Now even bhikkhu (bhikkhu is the plural as well) have no intelligent reading of Pali, as we hear day in day out on television. To lose a language is to suffer a tremendous loss.
Features
Partnering India without dependence
Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi once again signaled the priority India places on Sri Lanka by swiftly dispatching a shipload of petrol following a telephone conversation with President Anura Kumara Dissanayake. The Indian Prime Minister’s gesture came at a cost to India, where there have been periodic supply constraints and regional imbalances in fuel distribution, even if not a countrywide shortage. Under Prime Minister Modi, India has demonstrated to Sri Lanka an abundance of goodwill, whether it be the USD 4 billion it extended in assistance to Sri Lanka when it faced international bankruptcy in 2022 or its support in the aftermath of the Ditwah cyclone disaster that affected large parts of the country four months ago. India’s assistance in 2022 was widely acknowledged as critical in stabilising Sri Lanka at a moment of acute crisis.
This record of assistance suggests that India sees Sri Lanka not merely as a neighbour but as a partner whose stability is in its own interest. In contrast to Sri Lanka’s roughly USD 90 billion economy, India’s USD 4,500 billion economy, growing at over 6 percent, underlines the vast asymmetry in economic scale and the importance of Sri Lanka engaging India. A study by the Germany-based Kiel Institute for the World Economy identifies Sri Lanka as the second most vulnerable country in the world to severe food price surges due to its heavy reliance on imported energy and fertilisers. Income per capita remains around the 2018 level after the economic collapse of 2022. The poverty level has risen sharply and includes a quarter of the population. These indicators underline the urgency of sustained economic recovery and the importance of external partnerships, including with India.
It is, however, important for Sri Lanka not to abdicate its own responsibilities for improving the lives of its people or become dependent and take this Indian assistance for granted. A long unresolved issue that Sri Lanka has been content to leave the burden to India concerns the approximately 90,000 Sri Lankan refugees who continue to live in India, many of them for over three decades. Only recently has a government leader, Minister Bimal Rathnayake, publicly acknowledged their existence and called on them to return. This is a reminder that even as Sri Lanka receives support, it must also take ownership of its own unfinished responsibilities.
Missing Investment
A missing factor in Sri Lanka’s economic development has long been the paucity of foreign investment. In the past this was due to political instability caused by internal conflict, weaknesses in the rule of law, and high levels of corruption. There are now significant improvements in this regard. There is now a window to attract investment from development partners, including India. In his discussions with President Dissanayake, Prime Minister Modi is reported to have referred to the British era oil storage tanks in Trincomalee. These were originally constructed to service the British naval fleet in the Indian Ocean. In 1987, under the Indo Lanka Peace Accord, Sri Lanka agreed to develop these tanks in partnership with India. A further agreement was signed in 2022 involving the Ceylon Petroleum Corporation and the Lanka Indian Oil Corporation to jointly develop the facility.
However, progress has been slow and the project remains only partially implemented. The value of these oil storage tanks has become clearer in the context of global energy uncertainty and tensions in the Middle East. Energy analysts have pointed out that strategic storage facilities can provide countries with greater resilience in times of supply disruption. The Trincomalee tanks could become a significant strategic asset not only for Sri Lanka but also for regional energy security. However, historical baggage continues to stand in the way of Sri Lanka’s deeper economic linkage with India. Both ancient and modern history shape perceptions on both sides.
The asymmetry in size and power between the two countries is a persistent concern within Sri Lanka. India is a regional power, while Sri Lanka is a small country. This imbalance creates both opportunities for partnership and anxieties about overdependence. The present government too has entered into economic and infrastructure agreements with India, but many of these have yet to move beyond initial stages. This has caused frustration to the Indian government, which sees its efforts to support Sri Lanka’s development as not being sufficiently appreciated or effectively utilised. From India’s perspective, delays and hesitation can appear as a lack of commitment. From Sri Lanka’s perspective, caution is often driven by domestic political sensitivities and concerns about sovereignty.
Power Imbalance
At the same time, global developments offer a cautionary lesson. The behaviour of major powers in the contemporary international system shows that states often act in their own interests, sometimes at the expense of smaller partners. What is being seen in the world today is that past friendships and commitments can be abandoned if a bigger and more powerful country can see an opportunity for itself. The plight of Denmark (Greenland) and Canada (51st state) give disturbing messages. Analysts in the field of International Relations frequently point out that power asymmetries shape outcomes in bilateral relations. As one widely cited observation by Lord Parlmeston, a 19th century prime minister of Great Britain is that “nations have no permanent friends or allies, they only have permanent interests.” While this may be an overly stark formulation, it captures an underlying reality that small states must navigate carefully.
For Sri Lanka, this means maintaining a balance. It needs to clearly acknowledge the partnership that India is offering in the area of economic development, as well as in education, connectivity, and technological advancement. India has extended scholarships, supported digital infrastructure, and promoted cross border links that can contribute to Sri Lanka’s long term growth. These are tangible benefits that should not be undervalued. At the same time, Sri Lanka needs to ensure that it does not become overly dependent on Indian largesse or drift into a position where it functions as an appendage of its much larger neighbour. Economic dependence can translate into political vulnerability if not carefully managed. The appropriate response is not to distance itself from India, but to broaden its partnerships. Engaging with a diverse range of countries and institutions can provide Sri Lanka with greater autonomy and resilience.
A hard headed assessment would recognise that India’s support is both genuine and interest driven. India has a clear stake in ensuring that Sri Lanka remains stable, prosperous, and aligned with its broader regional outlook. Sri Lanka needs to move forward with agreed projects such as the Trincomalee oil tanks, improve implementation capacity, and demonstrate reliability as a partner. This does not preclude it from actively seeking investment and cooperation from other partners in Asia and beyond. The path ahead is therefore one of balanced engagement. Sri Lanka can and should welcome India’s partnership while strengthening its own institutions, fulfilling its domestic responsibilities, and diversifying its external relations. This approach can transform a relationship shaped by asymmetry into one defined by mutual benefit and confidence.
by Jehan Perera
Features
The university student
This Article is formed from listening to university students from across the country for two research initiatives, one on academic freedom and another on higher education policy. In speaking with students, the fears they carry could not be ignored. Students navigate university education, with anxieties about their future and fears that they and their university education are inadequate, all while managing their families’ daily struggles. I explore students’ anxieties and the extent to which we, the public, and higher education policies must take responsibility for their experiences.
The Neoliberal University
For decades, universities have been transforming. Neoliberal policies, promoted by the World Bank, have reduced public education expenditure and weakened the State’s commitment to public institutions. These policies frame individuals as responsible for their success and failure, minimising structural realities, such as poverty and precarity. They instrumentalise education, treat students as “products” for a “competitive’ job market, while education markets feed on students’ insecurities. Students are made to feel lacking in “soft skills”, or skills seemingly necessary to navigate classed-corporate structures, and lacking in technical skills, or those needed to operate technologies used within the private sector.
Student activists and, sometimes teachers, have challenged this worldview, demanding State commitment to free education. Governments sometimes yield but also fear the consequences of student politics and have long waged campaigns to discredit student activism. It is within this context that students pursue education.
Portrayal of students
A Peradeniya student told me student-organised events must meet “high standards”, because of the negative public perceptions of university students. I understood what she meant; I had heard of our ‘ungrateful’, ‘wasteful’, ‘unemployable’, and ‘entitled’ students. The media and decades of government propaganda have reinforced these depictions.
About 10 years ago, when government moves to privatise higher education were strong, a corporate executive, complaining about traffic caused by “yet another useless protest”, was unable to explain why they protested. News coverage, I realised, framed these protests as public inconveniences, rarely addressing students’ demands. A prominent advocate, of neoliberal educational policy, reinforced this narrative, saying “state university students make up just 10 percent of their cohorts”, gesturing dismissively as if to say their concerns were insignificant. Such language belittles student activists and youth, renders them voiceless and allows their concerns, such as classed worldviews, and access barriers to and privatisation of education, to be easily dismissed.
It is in this environment that the conception of the useless university student, fighting for no reason, has developed. Students must carry this misrepresentation, irrespective of their own involvement in activism.
Not being good enough
Attacks on free higher education and the absence of meaningful reforms designed to address students’ problems, now weigh on students’ minds. Students question whether their education is relevant and current, pointing to outdated equipment, software, and curricula. University administrators acknowledge these constraints, which reflect Sri Lanka’s ranking as one of the lowest in the world for the public funding of education and higher education.
Rarely has the World Bank, so influential in driving educational policy, highlighted the public funding crisis and, instead, emphasises technological deficiencies, the public sector’s “monopoly” of higher education and limited private sector involvement. It downplays the reality that few families can privately afford such funding arrangements.
Students are also bombarded with fee-levying programmes, promising skills and access to jobs, preying on students’ insecurities. Many, while struggling to make ends meet, enrol in off-campus pricy professional courses, such as in accountancy, marketing, or English.
The arts student
Some students worry their education is too theoretical and “Arts-focused.” A student from the University of Colombo described having to justify her decision to pursue an arts degree. The public, she said, saw this as a waste of her time and the country’s resources. She courageously wore this identity, yet questioned if she was, in fact, unemployable as she was being led to believe.
She does not, however, draw on the fact that arts education has long been the “cheap” option that governments have offered when pressured to expand higher education. While arts education may need fewer laboratories and equipment, they require adequate investments on teachers, strong on content and pedagogy, to closely engage with individual students; aspects of arts education which have systematically been disregarded.
As access broadens, particularly in the arts, more students from marginalised backgrounds have entered universities; students who may feel alien in systems aligned with corporate interests. Thus, students quite different from the classed conception of the “employable graduate,” whose education has systematically been under-funded, graduate from arts programmes frustrated, diffident, and ill-suited for jobs to which they are expected to aspire.
The dysfunctional university
Students voice criticisms of their teachers, as myopic, unworldly, and unfair. Their perspective reflects the universities’ culture of hierarchy and its intolerance of difference, on the one hand, and the weak institutional structures on the other. They are symptoms of years of neglect and attempts by governments to delegitimise universities, to shed themselves of the burden of funding higher education through anti-public sector rhetoric.
Some students, marginalised for being anti-rag, women, or ethnic minorities, feel an added layer of burdens. Anti-rag students, or more often, students who do not submit to university hierarchies, whether enforced by students or staff, are ostracised, demeaned and sometimes subjected to violence. Students unable to speak the institution’s dominant language face inadequate institutional support. Women describe being ignored and silenced in student union activities and left out of student leadership positions.
Furthermore, quality assurance processes rarely prioritise academic freedom or students’ right to exist as they wish, except when they complement the process of creating a desirable graduate for the job market. These processes focus on moulding professionals and technicians, as one would form clay, disregarding students’ anxieties from being alienated from themselves by such efforts.
Problems at home
Beyond the campus, parents face debt, illness, and precarious work. Students are acutely aware of these struggles. Some describe parents collapsing from the strain and sometimes leaving them to carry the family’s difficulties. A student described feeling guilty for being at the University while his family struggled to survive. To ease the burden on their families, students earn incomes by providing tuition, delivering food, and carrying out microbusinesses.
Tied to their concerns over having to depend on their families, is their fear of being “unemployable”, a term that places the blame of unemployment on students’ skill deficiencies. Little in this discourse connects the lack of decent work and jobs for them and their parents to the weak economy and job markets into which successive batches of graduates must transition. Much of the available jobs in the country are those that require little in the form of education, and those, too do little to provide a living wage. Students must, therefore, compete for a limited number and breadth of frankly not very desirable work. Yet, it is they who must feel the weight of unemployability.
Committing to students
Universities frequently fail to recognise students’ worries. Instead, we, coopt neoliberal discourses, telling students to become more marketable and competitive, do and learn more, be confident, improve English, learn to inhabit those classed spaces with ease; often without the support that should accompany these messages.
We expect these students, insecure and anxious, to think critically, and demonstrate curiosity and higher-order analyses. When they collapse under the pressure, universities respond by providing mental health services. While such services are needed, they risk individualising and pathologising systemic problems. They represent yet again the inherent flaws with solutions that emerge from neoliberal ideological positions that treat individuals as the source of all success and failure. Such perspectives are likely to reinforce students’ anxieties, rather than address them.
As Sri Lanka revisits education policy reforms, there is an opportunity to change our framings of education and to recognise these concerns of students as central to any policy. The state must renew its commitment to free education and move from the neoliberal logic that has guided successive reform efforts; we, as the public, must restore our hope and expectations from free education. Education across disciplines, the arts, as well as STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics), must be strengthened. Students’ freedom to inhabit university spaces as they wish, must be respected and protected by institutions. Education policies must be tied to broader economic and labour reforms that ensure families can safely earn a living wage and graduates can access a rich range of decent meaningful work.
(Shamala Kumar teaches at the University of Peradeniya)
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
by Shamala Kumar
Features
On the right track … as a solo artiste
Mihiri Chethana Gunawardena is certainly on the right track, in the music scene.
The plus factor, where Mihiri is concerned, is that she has music deeply rooted in her upbringing, and is now doing her thing in the Maldives.
Her father, Clifton Gunawardena, was a student of the legendary Premasiri Kemadasa and former rhythm guitarist of the Super 7 band.
Mihiri took to music, after her higher studies, and her first performance was with her father, while employed.

Mihiri Chethana Gunawardena
After eight years of balancing both worlds – working and music – she chose to follow her true calling and embraced music as her full-time profession.
Over the years, Mihiri has worked with some of the top bands in the local scene, including D Major, C Plus from Negombo, Heat with Aubrey, Mirage, D Zone Warehouse Project and Freeze.
In fact, she even put together her own band, Faith, in 2017, performing at numerous events, and weddings, before the Covid pandemic paused their journey.
What’s more, her singing career has taken her across borders –performing twice in Dhaka, Bangladesh, with the late Anil Bharathi and the late Roney Leitch, and multiple times in the Maldives, including a special New Year’s Eve performance with D Major.

In the Maldives, on a one-month contract
Last year, Mihiri was in Dubai, along with the group Knights, for the Ananda UAE 2025 dance.
She continues to grow as a solo artiste, now working closely with the renowned Wildfire guitarist Derek Wikramanayake, and performing, as a freelance musician, travelling around the world.
Right now, she is in the Maldives, on a one-month contract, marking a new chapter in her evolution as a solo vocalist.
On her return, she says, she hopes to create fresh cover songs and original music for her fans.
Mihiri believes in spreading joy and positivity through her singing, and peace and happiness for everyone around her, and for the world, through music.
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