Features
Learning English at Maris Stella College, Negombo
“I was always coming third in the class – the first was Wilfred Jayasuriya and Carlo Fonseka was second”
(Excerpted from *Leo Fernando’s Biographical sketches of a professional generalist)
It was when I was nine years old that I was enrolled in a school in Negombo called Maris Stella by my eldest brother Peter, to learn English. Up till then I was innocent of the language of our colonial masters. Maris Stella imparted a solid education. My three older brothers, Peter, Cyril and Vincent were also students about this time. As we, my cousin Oscar and I used to talk in Sinhala during the school interval we had to beware of other students who were hovering about ready to pounce on us talking in the mother tongue.
One day, during the tea interval I got caught talking in my mother tongue to Oscar while another student who had the red baton, unknown to me, was prowling around for a possible victim. No sooner I received the baton I managed to find another boy indulging in his mother tongue to whom I handed over the dreaded baton. The rule in the school was that at the end of school session the victim holding the baton has to hand it back to the principal who would give him a caning. This method of punishment had both good and bad results. Good because it forced us to learn to speak English, bad because a punishment enforced for speaking in Sinhala, the mother tongue of 90% of the students was an insult to the ethos, dignity and spirit of the
One day our class lessons terminated early and we were free to go home. I proceeded to go through the Negombo town on foot as by this time my eldest brother was no longer there to take me on his bicycle. My landmark on the road through the main street was the high dome of the Grand Street church which was visible even to little boys like me from any corner of the town. Close to the church a gentleman in shorts addressed me and said something in English which I did not understand. I dared not ask him in Sinhala what he said considering it infra dig to speak in the mother tongue.
He was probably a Burgher. He kept asking me to do something for him. Finally, I used the words we were taught that morning at school “I cannot”. He still kept talking and I kept repeating the same words “I cannot”. Fortunately, my uncle Martin Rosa appeared on the scene and saved me the embarrassing situation. That gent only wanted me to drop a letter in the post box at the Negombo Post Office. He may have been somehow aware that I was passing the PO.
When Oscar and I were seen together, other students used to ask me whether we were brothers. As I did not know the English word cousin, I would simply nod my head. So we were known as Pandikutty, the Tamil word for piglings. This was because Oscar’s surname was Panditharatne and as first cousins we probably resembled each other as it happened when we were in our forties. An engineer friend of Oscar stopped his car on the road to ask me “Aren’t you Oscar?” when I didn’t recognize him.
In the second year, the fourth standard, we were taught by Rev Bro. Nizier, the Principal of the lower school and Mr. Shirley Lawrence. At the term test Mr. Lawrence got each student to say few words in English on a subject he chose. When my turn came, he asked me to say something about the elephant. By some fluke I used the word “gigantic” about this animal. He finished my test immediately. He did not expect me as I thought afterwards to use that big word.
My performance at the year-end test was good and I was placed second in the class. Those were the fee levying times. One morning I was asked to leave school for not paying fees. However, I managed to get the monthly fee from mother and settle the dues on the day after. In the following year we were lucky as our school became a free education school.
The fifth standard class teacher, Mr. Leonard Obris somehow found out that I had a good singing voice. So, he would persuade me to sing some English songs. The best song I remember was “You are always in my heart”. There was a difficulty in the pronunciation of the Anglicized French word “rendezvous” found in this song. Many years later, probably 50 years, a classmate, Wilfred Jayasuriya, remembering the words of this song wanted me to sing it. But with the lapse of time over 50 years, I could not recollect the words in order to oblige him. I learnt these songs from my eldest brother Peter, my loku aiya who in turn had learnt them from his close University friend, Shirley Fernando of Moratuwa.
Shirley was a versatile guy. He had come first in the Island at the SSC and HSC examinations and was reading for a special degree in Physics. I had later seen him singing while playing the Hawaiian guitar when he came to our home in Pitipana with some other Varsity friends of my brother. I then thought that I could improvise a musical instrument like the guitar by salvaging an abandoned antiquated Japanese mandolin which lacked the typewriter-like keyboard and the steel strings, lying in the store room of our house.
I got the strings from a fisherman living close by and contrived to make a guitar like instrument for playing. For the “steel” that needs to be sliding along the strings in order to play the melody I used a small glass bottle. All the contraptions put together helped me play some of the Sinhala songs of Sunil Santha and also the melodies of the English songs my brother taught me.
About this time a friend of my older brother, Vincent, named Aaron Silva visited our house and saw me playing some melodies on the makeshift “guitar”. Aaron was a gifted singer and actor. In the village Sinhala school, he acted as St. Francis Xavier in a school play. Before that he acted as Andare, the court jester, in a school play written by the Principal Manamalage Gabriel Fernando. I recall the scene as to how Andare ate sugar in the King’s palace. In later life, Aaron entered the cinema world and was known as Pitipana Silva. He borrowed my guitar for a few days in order, I guessed, to learn to play it. Even after keeping it for months he did not return it.
I then told my mother about it. She had visited his home requesting him to return it. Still, he did not comply. I complained about it to my eldest brother who knew about the basic musical talents I possessed. As by this time University education was free, he had some savings with which he bought me a second-hand steel guitar, which I later came to know belonged to his friend Shirley Fernando. Along with the guitar I was given also a book showing the method of playing it along with the musical notations.
There was no one who knew the guitar notes to teach me how to play it. Peter aiya had, in fact, requested the Church organist John Master to teach me the musical notations. But he could not be of any help as he did not know to play the guitar although he knew all about playing the organ. The two signs or symbols I used to see in music books and in the books of my older brothers that fascinated me were the crotchet and the Greek letter sigma, later the integral, an elongated sigma, used in calculus.
My brother Peter invited some of his university friends to spend the night at our house in Pitipana. When our “help” Eliza had prepared dinner, she had informed Peter aiya in Sinhalese “Malli. dinner is ready.” On hearing her voice, his friends had asked as to how come that a sister had suddenly appeared in the scene when they had been told that he had no sister in the family.
I still remember how Eliza used to feed me lunch with her fingers and my protest about the hot curries which made my tongue and mouth smart unable to swallow the food. I was fond of her and called her Eliza akka as a sign of the sisterly bond I forged with her. During this period at Maris Stella College, , now in the fifth standard, I had to walk about three miles to school and another three miles back to Pitipana as Peter aiya was no longer there to take me to school on his bicycle. There was no bridge during our school days connecting the Pamunugama-Pitpana stretch of the peninsula with the Negombo town. So, we had to cross the lagoon at a point cheek by jowl to the sea in outrigger canoes.
There was no charge for the men folk unless one had to take a bicycle in the canoe when there would be a levy of 10 cents. One afternoon on the return journey across the lagoon the canoe capsized. Fortunately, we did not go down and our end of the canoe, called aniya in the language of fishermen, was near the land. I was taken ashore by a man who was already out of the water. The women returning from the Negombo market with their paraphernalia were in difficulty. They were ail saved.
I did not wear shoes to school. Those were difficult times for mother to feed the four members of the family. The coconuts from the land did not yield enough income for the boys to wear shoes or well-ironed clothes to school. I used to wash my trousers and a few shirts on Saturdays so that by Monday morning the clothes were ready for wearing.
One Monday morning the short trousers I was to wear to school were still wet due to rain the previous day. But there was one trouser available, one in two colors, partly deep brown on one side and light brown on the other which was never worn by my two older brothers. Complaining to mother was not going to help. So, I took the bold step of wearing it hoping no student in my class would notice the difference.
On the Monday I wore it no student noticed the slightly multicolored shorts. So, I happily wore it on the second day too. To my great surprise and some humiliation one student, the son of a doctor, was heard to tell the others “Look he is wearing a trouser of two colors”. I just turned away. The students did not laugh nor sneer, but out of sympathy probably, turned their attention elsewhere. Probably, I guess, they had some respect for me as I could sing English songs well and was the best at arithmetic, and was always coming third at the monthly and the two-term tests.
The first and second were Wilfred Jayasuriya and Carlo Fonseka. Wilfred was very good in English in which he later obtained a degree and a doctorate from a US university. Carlo was good in English too and would pronounce English words like the English schoolboys but was always second to Wilfred. Carlo became an Emeritus Professor of Physiology at the University. However, at the final government examination held in December, I happened to be placed first. I guessed this was due to the full marks I got for arithmetic.
There were only three subjects along with Arithmetic, namely, English and General Intelligence. Later in life, I remember hearing Dolly Parton’s song about the coat of many color she sang and nostalgically remembering those good old days of my boyhood at Maris Stella where my three older brothers had their entire education in the English medium. In the final term, there was an inter-school drama competition. Mr. Obris, the class teacher prepared those of us who could sing and were good in elocution for a Christmas play.
Our play won the first prize. Wilfred acted as mother Mary of infant Jesus while Carlo played the role of Joseph and I was the narrator, the pothay gura. Our class won a trip to Colombo when we were taken to see the zoo just before X’mas. Our music teacher, Mr. Ferdinand, taught us to sing a X’mas song which I have never heard afterwards in my life. Its melody had a X’masy flavor and the only line I remember is “we wish to bring pleasure by singing in measure ……..
(*The writer worked as a senior SLAS officer in several government departments and public corporations. He is a professional accountant who took a Master’s degree and Ph.D, while working in the SLAS)
Features
The NPP’s Dilemma: Arresting Politics and Unarresting Progress
by Rajan Philips
The 22nd Amendment has given the government’s critics a convenient cudgel to beat up the government. But there has been no crushing blow by any effective opponent. Too many people have been taking too many turns and striking too many blows, but no one has landed anything to shake the government in any way. The whole drama is the new Sri Lankan parody of Lilliputians taking on Gulliver. Nonetheless, the critics have found an opening to keep haranguing the government. There are two prongs to their exertions.
One is the pre-NPP past of the old JVP. In political years, the chasm is as wide as that between the Old Testament and the New Testament. This provides the basis for claiming that 22A is the NPP government’s first step towards ending parliamentary democracy. The hilarity of this accusation is matched by its hypocrisy inasmuch as the current chief accuser was also the high priest of the 18th Amendment that was set up to envision a third term for Mahinda Rajapaksa. Who else – but GL Pieris. One good thing the Bar Association did was to keep GL Pieris entirely out of its entourages.
The second front of attacks on the government is based on the JVP-NPP’s cohabitation in the Yahapalanaya diarchy of Sirisena and Wickremesinghe. Indeed, the question has been asked: Is Malimawa heading to be the second Yahapalanaya? If that were so, GL Peiris and others should be able to feign a sigh of relief that parliamentary democracy is indeed safe owing to the NPP’s incompetence. But the absurdity of the Malimawa – Yahapalanaya allusion is a different laugh. Perhaps, more than one laugh.
One is in the table-talk suggestion that “due to the misdeeds of Pohottuwa that followed Yahapalanaya, voters gave an overwhelming mandate to Malimawa…” Sanitizing the disaster that was Gotabaya presidency as misdeed is quite a feat. A more serious look is about the voters who gave the “overwhelming mandate to Malimawa.” Most of the Malimawa voters were peeled off the Pohottuwa vote block, while Yahapalanaya voters were left to choose between Sajith Premadasa and Ranil Wickremesinghe. Namal Rajapaksa who was supposed to stand down in support of Ranil Wickremasinghe in the hope of diverting Pohottuwa votes to RW. Instead, the Rajapaksa scion decided to get big race experience, fared badly in the race and caused another serial defeat for RW.
Arresting Politics
Now the political wheels are turning differently. Namal Rajapaksa has become the latest martyr of the government’s arresting politics. Illusorily or not, the young Rajapaksa believes that he’s finding political traction in the country and that the government is putting him behind bars to slow him down. Coming to his defence is of course the inscrutable (even to himself) Ranil Wickremesinghe.
Sajith Premadasa has apparently remained quiet so far, and so has the SJB. Neither has made any statement or expressed concern over the arrest of Namal Rajapaksa on Friday, September 4. It is not that Mr. Premadasa is becoming what Ranil Wickremesinghe was to Mahinda Rajapaksa – the government’s Minister of the Opposition, but the man has no political fire in his belly. If his passion is for wildlife, he should ask the government to put him in charge of running the Yala National Park. He can have a better animal farm there than what he seems to be suffering within his Party and in parliament.
Mr. Rajapaksa has been arrested over the Airbus purchase scandal that goes back to 2012 and 2013. The details of the scandal are known, and allegations of payoffs have been rumoured for quite a while. Yet it is the of pattern of Friday morning questioning, evening arrest and arraignment, and weekend incarceration – that has become all too familiar and fodder for cynical misgivings. There have been too many arrests but too few trials, let alone convictions. All arrests and no trials not only erodes public confidence in the process, but also let the criminals and their beneficiaries go Scot-free.
For his part, Namal Rajapaksa is claiming that the government timed his arrest to scuttle the political rally that he and the SLPP have scheduled for Saturday, September 12, in Anuradhapura. Their claim seems to that the Anuradhapura rally will mark the scion’s coming of age as a viable presidential candidate. The claim gets some credence in the context of the government’s own political planning for holding a series of pro-government public rallies where President Dissanayake will be both the show and substance. The first of the NPP rallies is coincidentally scheduled for Sunday, September 13, and also in Anuradhapura.
Next week, we will have all the commentaries and comparisons about the two rival rallies in Anuradhapura. Future rallies will show whether Mr. Rajapaksa is actually surging in the public recognition of his political abilities, and whether the government is actually concerned about this apparent surge and mounting a counter surge of its own. If all this were true, the irrelevance of Sajith Premadasa will become even more entrenched, and the personal relevance of Ranil Wickremesinghe will become even more real.
For the pundit theory is that while the NPP might view Namal Rajapaksa as a growing threat in popular politics, its more substantive fear is about Ranil Wickremesinghe and what he says about the economy. To wit, the government’s full throttled response to Mr. Wickremasinghe’s casual remark at a political book launch that the government may not be having enough forex reserves when foreign creditors come collecting in 2028.
The Real Question
The real question is apart from the show and tell of political rallies there is still not much to write home about government performance on the substance of the economy. The government has so far been quite good at keeping the economic house in order. Keeping order is not too difficult a task once you start keeping corruption out of the door. But there are no signs of the government doing anything substantial on the economic front, especially the export sector for without significantly increasing export earnings it will be impossible to carry out debt repayment.
The government has been commended for identifying 33 State-Owned-Enterprises (SOEs) for closure or restructuring. Yet there are a few biggies left, including the debt burdened Sri Lankan Airlines with about $ 2 billion estimated to be its accumulated losses. The government has also announced a slew of mega projects in highways and the energy sector. At the same time, there are ethno-economic criticisms that the government is delaying work on the KKS Harbour and the Palaly Airport projects that have Indian funding.
Highway projects can be a curse dressed up as blessing, and they are coming out of the same Rajapaksa economic playbook. There are rumours that would be corporate beneficiaries of mega highway projects have found an inside track to government decision makers. It is up to the government to prove that such allegations are untrue and to demonstrate that it will not be bought over in contract awards. Highway construction is also import heavy even with local contractors. The economic worry should be that with too many highway projects, all going on at the same time, there will be a drain on the limited forex reserves to bring in equipment and materials. That was the experience of the highway robberies under the Rajapaksas and the NPP government can forget the lessons from that era only at its peril.
On a positive note, there is commendable activity in the renewable energy sector, amidst warnings by the Public Utilities Commission (PUSCL) about new power cuts under El Niño weather conditions. The PUSCL recently approved new feed-in tariffs for electricity from renewable energy sources and has directed the newly minted National System Operator (NSO) to expedite the implementation of Battery Energy Storage System with sufficient capacity to accommodate solar energy. There is some and back-and-forth between the two agencies about implementation details, but that is a good disagreement to have as opposed to the prolonged agreement about doing nothing on renewable energy.
There is a new green light for the once controversial 350 MW LNG power project in Kerawalapitiya. The project is being undertaken by Sahasdhanavi Limited on a Build-Own-Operate-Transfer (BOOT) basis, and will be implemented in two phases. The unfortunate snag is that in both phases, initial operations will be based on diesel with expectation to switch to Regasified Liquefied Natural Gas (RLNG) which will require additional infrastructure and supply arrangements. One would hope that diesel generation will not become a permanent feature in Kerawalapitiya.
To its credit, the government launched Sri Lanka’s largest renewable energy project, the ‘Rividanavi’ Solar Power Park project, in September 2025, in the Monaragala District, as part of the target to generate 70% of the country’s electricity from renewable energy sources by 2030. Sooner the country reduces its reliance on thermal energy, the better for its economy and the environment.
The government seems to be wanting in messaging its achievements, big or small, to the public in consistent and convincing ways. The mode of messaging through presidential rallies may not have much benefit except during an election campaign. At the same time, the government is getting caught up in controversies of its own making. The exertions on all sides over the 22nd Amendment is a case in point. In the upshot, it is the judiciary that has been badmouthed and diminished. The lure of arresting politics could be appealing in the short term, but can come back to haunt one if no one gets convicted.
For all intent and purpose, the government has missed the bus on constitutional reforms. I would be the first to applaud if my prediction turns out to be incorrect. But the government cannot walk away from the economy the way it seems to have abandoned its promise on the constitution. And the challenge of managing even a small national economy is not getting any easier with all the havoc that the Trump Administration is wreaking on America and the world.
Features
Remembering Nihal Rodrigo: A friendship extending over 50 years
Nihal Passed away on 14th August, a few days after his 86th birthday. Nandi, Raffi and Anouk, his granddaughter, had been with him from New York till just a week before he died. In the weeks after he passed away, there have been glowing tributes to Nihal by his professional colleagues and from organisations in which he served. My tribute is personal, of friendship over decades with a multi-talented and kind-hearted gentleman, with a delightful sense of humour, who wore his talents so lightly.
I cannot speak of Nihal without talking of his wife Chitra. To me, they were an ideal union. They shared the same values of kindness, generosity, commitment, professionalism, humility and unquestionable integrity. They also shared many interests – in art, theatre, film, classical music (both oriental and western), literature and world affairs, to name a few. They were equal partners, each respecting the other’s views and looking out for the other. They had their arguments, but with never a loud, rude, harsh or unpleasant word.
I first met Nihal and his family nearly 50 years ago in Manhattan, New York. I had moved to Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, as a graduate student in January 1978. I had an introduction to them from my close friend Radhika Coomaraswamy, who had known them since her student days in New York. Nihal was Counsellor at the Sri Lanka Mission to the UN. He and Chitra, together with their 6-year old twins, Nandi and Satya, graciously opened their home to me. From the beginning, I was made to feel a part of this delightful family and I considered their apartment in Manhattan as my “home away from home”. I regularly dislodged one of the twins from a bed to a sleeping bag on the floor, whenever I turned up in the “Big Apple” on the six-hour greyhound bus ride from Ithaca, comfortable enough to occasionally bring a friend along as well!
I have such happy memories of walking in Central Park eating ice-cream with the foursome, or going to movies and Broadway shows with Chitra. Our friendship never wavered over the next several decades and geographical distances, as they moved from one diplomatic post to another. I remain ever-grateful to Radhika for that initial introduction.
My father (Sam Wijesinha) had befriended them before me, when he had accompanied a Parliamentary delegation to Australia in 1970, in his capacity as Secretary General of Parliament, and he was a great fan. Nihal was then acting High Commissioner and they had brought him to their home for a chat and informal dinner after an official party they had all three attended. When they got home, both Nihal and Chitra realized that neither had taken their keys with them and they were locked outside their own home with their guest! Undeterred, Nihal managed to prise open the kitchen window and climb into the house to let the other two in. My father remained a great admirer of Nihal and Chitra forever after!
From Counsellor in New York, Nihal rose to Ambassador status, SAARC Secretary-General and Foreign Secretary, and finally as our Ambassador in China. They were such fun and gracious hosts when my husband and I visited them in both Kathmandu and Beijing and made their home our base while travelling in Nepal and China. They were the perfect diplomatic couple, able to converse with, and entertain royalty, presidents, the literary, arts and business communities and regular citizens, with equal ease, grace and dignity. It certainly did not harm the Sri Lankan image that they were also an extraordinarily good-looking couple!
Nihal and Chitra met as students at Peradeniya University in its golden years. They enjoyed Ediriweera Sarachchandra’s plays at the famous open-air theatre, while Nihal was also President of the English Drama Society. On my return to Sri Lanka in the mid-‘80s, it was Chitra who introduced me to Sinhabahu and Maname, as well as all the glorious ballets performed by the Chitrasena and Vajira dance troupe.
As mentioned by others, Nihal was an authority on art and a painter himself. Nihal, Chitra and fellow students were befriended by George Keyt, then living in Kandy. Canvasses in their home showcase Nihal’s artistic talents, as well as early Keyt paintings, gifts from the artist himself. Later, Nihal served on and supported the George Keyt Foundation in many ways. He was also a lover of, and an authority on film. I remember especially the Audrey Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart classics. If one wished to watch, one had only to visit the Rodrigos and ask- Nihal had an entire collection of those DVDs.
Nihal could speak with authority, in language a lay person could understand, on geopolitics, especially the power changes taking place in an increasingly volatile world. His astuteness on Sri Lanka’s diplomatic relations was ahead of his time.
In the early 1990s, Nihal was Secretary to a high-level Foreign Affairs Study Group (FASG) appointed by President Premadasa and chaired by Dr. Gamani Corea, with Mervyn de Silva, Lakshman Kadirgamar and S.K. Wickremesinghe among its members.
As the Cold War had ended and Asia began emerging as an economic force, Nihal saw that, along with two economically awakening giants China and India, fast developing countries in East and South East Asia would become increasingly important to Sri Lanka for its own future development. He therefore officially co-opted me, from the Central Bank’s Economic Research Department, to provide the FASG with regular statistical updates of Sri Lanka’s economic and trade links with those very countries.
His thinking has proved correct, although I do not think successive Sri Lankan governments gave such astuteness the importance it warranted.
His final diplomatic posting, as Ambassador to China, reflected the enormous respect in which he was held. His time there was invaluable to Sri Lanka. Since his return to Sri Lanka in 2007, he was one of the most sought-after authorities on China in the region. He lectured in academic institutions and was a popular speaker on Sri Lanka’s foreign policy for well over a decade after his retirement.When his health began to deteriorate, he led a quieter life, meeting friends and family in their home, ably cared for by his devoted wife through the years that followed.
Nihal’s and Chitra’s interest in world issues and the arts have been inherited by, and nurtured in both Nandi and Satya, and most likely, Anouk too. Today, where are those delightful six-year olds whose beds I took over all those years ago?
Nandi is Head of Research at the New York Times Magazine, married to Raffi, a senior writer for the New Yorker, and Satya, a senior diplomat in Sri Lanka’s Foreign Service, currently serves as our Ambassador in Rome, with the same charm and professionalism as his father. So, to me, Nihal and Chitra were also role-model parents, giving their twins space to grow and develop their own individual personalities.
Nihal had many admirable qualities, but what I admired most was how his intellect and creative abilities sat so lightly on him. He shared of his knowledge, experience and wisdom without ever acting superior or talking down to anyone; he could turn a tense moment in a discussion and lighten the mood in a wink, with a delightfully witty remark or joke, and always had time to chat and joke with us younger adults, however busy his work schedule.
But Nihal was not all-perfect! It was Chitra, his soul-mate, he relied on so completely for all matters practical and financial, including hosting, entertaining and maintaining their homes all over the world, and for companionship, comfort, peace and harmony, in their own home in Colombo, in the final years of his life.
He will be missed by all who knew him, but we will all treasure memories of a talented, humane individual who made this world a better place. May he rest in peace.
Anila Dias Bandaranaike
Features
The Essence of the Notion of ‘Father’: A short review of Piyasara Gedara by Liyanage Amarakeerthi
By Ashanthi Ekanayake
There has been a trend in social media in inquiring of its users what their favourite literary works are and I took some time to explore which poem I might single out as the best of its kind written in English which is of personal significance. I immediately thought of the poem “Daddy” by Sylvia Plath. I made the choice quickly because I had been thinking of it since I began to read Amarakeerthi’s latest novel. The notion of the father and the larger metaphor of the patriarch or the arch patriarch has been something all societies have grappled with since the beginning. Plath declares in the second verse Daddy, “I have had to kill you.” This act of parricide has been a strong metaphor in many literary works and also in the etiological myths of many peoples.
I was initiated to the history of our race and nation as a young child and I remember that I had no qualms about accepting that I came from a lineage which had a certain “lion” in the beginning and that the lion had two children and that they “married” to start our race. Firstly, I heard this story as a young child and “marriage” did not mean much to me, secondly, I was from a generation which was not allowed to question and challenge my “elders and betters.” I was also a somewhat passive and placid child. When it was (unfortunately) my turn to do the honours in initiating my own offspring they were not so gullible. They were appalled and not impressed. They said in one voice “what ignominy to trace one’s beginning to parricide, bestiality and incest.” Fortunately for me I know some “Classics.’ So, my rejoinder was that even the Greeks and Romans have similar accounts and reminded them of Oedipus. Oedipus and Sinhabahu both have to kill their fathers to come into their own, regardless of the fact that Oedipus meets with tragedy. The notion of the patriarch and succession through parricide has been a historical reality and a literary strategy explored by many and has an etiological function.
In this sense the narrative of Piyăsara Gedara by Amarakeerthi Liyanage makes the reader question this accepted notion of the patriarch and also the role of the father/father figure by their presence and absence in the novel itself. Not stopping there Amarakeerthi uses the shadowy and unnamed yet unmistakable character of “sir,” in the novel as a parasitic dramaturge who has a rather overbearing personality. This shadowy figure is mirrored by the introduction of fathers who are not quite fathers in the later chapters. Amarakeerthi has been committed to writing novels experimenting with different styles while touching on themes which are current and relevant. His unhurried creative exercise has always managed to keep the reader engaged in questioning social norms and accepted values and exploring the very politics of the creative enterprise and also recent events. The metaphor borrowed from a renowned stylized stage play is an extended metaphor with the heart room of the Dias home gaining an importance as a significant space. (I refrain from exploring the obvious nationalist aspect because the readers will come to these assumptions on their own.)
Just as there are many fathers, Dias appears to be just like the youngsters in the narrative, lost in the ruminations of what his father might have achieved had he not been in the shadow of the dramaturge who himself remains a shadowy figure in the narrative rather like the murder instrument which is not one. His realisation that his father was not unique and not deserving of many of the accolades that Dias had wanted as a son for his father gives the novel a certain bildungsroman/coming of age quality even though Dias appears to be relatively old. A rather late coming of age for Dias because he has to see that his father was not all that he believed him to be. This aspect of the novel also resonates with the notions of anxiety of influence/anxiety of authorship because Dias whom the playwright wants to rename is in fact doing much of the groundwork in research for the work the person referred only as “sir.” The other fathers are of a variety of types that we encounter in our everyday relationships. The absence of one father encourages one character to become vigilante like. The introduction of the manikin/mannequin or “womannequin” provides an alter-ego to one of the characters who is also described as doll-like.
As always Amarkeerthi’s latest creation is packed with metaphors which keep the reader alert in piecing together the story. He opens the novel using a technique resonant with the ultra-performativity of the current day and age. His narrative has a cinematic quality which is in keeping with the modern experience of a drone capturing the action as it takes place. This makes the novelist appear very powerful, even godlike and the experience makes the reader a viewer in a sense. He ties this narrative strategy in the final few pages and carries it on to the acknowledgement which is rather like watching movie credits roll at the end where he names the cast and crew.
In addition to the dramatic/cinematic quality, the novelist also uses onomatopoeia as a narrative strategy which I will not spoil for those who are yet to read the novel. Among the many themes explored are the
There is an irony in the notion of the patriarch because the very patriarch we challenge literally or figuratively is the one who gives us our name and our being and makes us into who we are, and ultimately renders himself a figure we have to destroy in order to come into our own. All the characters in the novel, main and the relatively insignificant are all used in exploring this metaphor of the father.
Plath says at the end of the poem “Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.” The irony of the presence or absence of the father and the notion of bastardy and the stigma involved and the social necessity of the presence of a father, is an aspect of our lives we will continue to explore in our creative enterprise.
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