It has been some time since I read an Agatha Christie, the plot of which I cannot remember. So, I was delighted to find on the shelves of a friend Lord Edgware Dies, which I had a vague memory of, but no certainty about who had done it.

When I read it, I found that my memory of who was probably the killer was correct, but I could not be certain and the red herrings Christie threw in were so diverting that until almost the very end I wondered if I had been wrong.

The plot is very simple. Jane Wilkinson, who is married to Lord Edgware, tells him that she is desperate for a divorce since she is in love with a very proper Anglo-Catholic peer, Lord Melton, but Edgware refuses to divorce her. She asks Poirot to talk to him, which he does, and is surprised to find that Edgware has told Jane he is prepared to give her a divorce. This was, after he had categorically refused, through a letter, which Jane said she had not received.

That night Edgware is murdered, after Jane had been to see him, or so the butler said, and also Edgware’s secretary. But Jane had been that evening at a grand dinner many miles away, where a dozen fellow guests could swear to her presence.

There was a solution however to the mystery of two Jane Wilkinsons, namely a skilful impersonator called Carlotta Adams who, in the opening chapter had impersonated Jane Wilkinson, who had also been at the performance. But when Poirot goes to see her, he finds that she had been found dead on the morning after Edgware had been killed, of an overdose. And in her bag was a gold case, with a strange inscription, that contained the drug, along with a pair of pince-nez.

Her maid said she had written a letter to her sister in America and posted it the previous night. Poirot asks Inspector Japp to get the letter, and a transcript is received from America, and in it the name of Edgware’s nephew Ronald Marsh is mentioned; he had taken Carlotta to dinner after her performance, with which the book opens, and had then set her a challenge. Japp arrests Marsh, but Poirot is not happy and asks for the original of the letter, which the sister sends him. That shows that a page is missing, and the tear is obvious, though that raises the question as to why it had not simply been cut.

Matters are further complicated by the fact that Marsh had gone in a taxi to the Edgware house, along with Edgware’s daughter Geraldine, in the interval of an opera which had previously seemed to provide them with cast iron alibis. Geraldine had gone in to fetch her pearls so that Marsh could raise money he needed, and thus had an opportunity to kill Edgware, as did Marsh, for the driver said he had got out of the taxi while waiting and gone into the house.

Agatha Christie

Marsh explained why he had gone to the house on the night of the murder as having followed Bryan Martin, an American actor, who had been in love with Jane, whom he saw go into the house with a key. But there was no one visible when he entered, and Geraldine almost immediately came down and they left together. And Martin too has become an object of suspicion to Poirot, for he had been to see him before the murders were discovered with a story of being followed by a man with a gold tooth – a story Poirot immediately realized was false when he was asked how old the man was, and was told he was young, for young people did not have gold teeth.

A heap of French money Edgware had got for a trip to Paris was missing, but since Marsh had no need for it after his cousin’s offer of help, Poirot deduces that it must have been taken by the butler, who has disappeared. Christie has stressed that he is astonishingly handsome, unusual in a butler, and Poirot notes a resemblance to Martin, so he thinks the mysterious man going into the house must have been him.

Incidentally, later Poirot assumes that Edgware’s change of mind was because he was involved in some scandal, and I believe Christie intends us to see the cause of this in his handsome butler, though this is not specified.

Meanwhile, Poirot has asked Japp to find out the provenance of the case found in Carlotta’s handbag, and it turns out to have been made in Paris, specially commissioned, and collected by a woman with pince-nez.

But then another murder occurs—that of another guest at the grand dinner, which provided Jane with her alibi. The victim is an actor who had been bemused when Jane, at a lunch, thought the Judgment of Paris referred to the city. He told Hastings he wanted to see Poirot, but was killed before he could get to the appointment. Poirot had rushed there when told about his request, but it was too late.

Meanwhile, Poirot has tried out the pince-nez on Edgware’s secretary, but she could not see through these. It was only a chance remark heard outside the theatre that led him to try them out on Wilkinson’s maid Ellis, a spare pair that had been appropriated for the night of the murders.

Poirot then lays things out, having summoned Martin and told him that he probably suppressed Edgware’s letter, as he had been dropped by then and he did not want Jane to marry another. But after teasing Martin, Poirot says that Jane was in fact the murderer, and she got Carlotta to impersonate her at the dinner while she went to the house and killed her husband. After meeting Carlotta later and checking with her through a call that she had not been rumbled, Jane had gone ahead with the murder – she put veronal into her drink and the case with veronal into the handbag. She forgot to take out the pince-nez she had used earlier to imitate an American. Carlotta had registered as the American in a hotel and Jane had gone to see her, and there they exchanged identities. After seen the letter, she made use of it by tearing off the page that referred to her, and the S of She, so that the person who had challenged Carlotta to impersonate her seemed to be a man.

There is a coda in which Jane, condemned to death, writes to Hastings, still full of pride at her ingenuity hoping she will be remembered.

by Prof. O. A. Ileperuma

Silting of reservoirs is a major problem today affecting our hydropower production and irrigation systems. The main Mahaweli reservoirs are silted to a considerable extent reducing the water holding capacity of them. Due to poor soil management practices, floodwaters deposit large amounts of silt in these reservoirs. When the Polgolla reservoir was fully drained about two years back, one could see mountains of silt in the lower reaches of the reservoir. A rough estimate is that 50% of the total capacity of these reservoirs has been lost to siltation. This is a serious issue which affects not only power and agriculture but also flood control.

Our ancient irrigation systems ensured that desilting of reservoirs took place under royal decree where all users of the reservoirs were ordered to carry out desilting of reservoirs during the dry season. The clay thus collected was used in making bricks for the construction of great stupas which dot the landscape of our ancient kingdoms. This ensured that the reservoirs had their full capacity filled with water for the next cultivating season. Our ancient kings were clever enough not to construct reservoirs by blocking main rivers such as the Mahaweli. A classic example is the Minipe left canal where they tapped only the surface water of Mahaweli. Even the bigger tanks such as Nuwara Wewa and Parakrama Samudraya were fed with minor rivulets. There were also other ingenious features in the cascade irrigation systems built by the ancient kings, such as mud sluice canals and forest reservations between the reservoirs in the cascade system. These reservations helped trap silt and remove excess nutrients, which could otherwise contribute to increasing salinity as water flowed from one reservoir to another.

Victoria

Moragahakanda

A classic engineering marvel is the former Yoda Ela, which carries water from Kalawewa to Nuwara Wewa and Tissa Wewa. It is 87 km long although the straight distance between these points is only about 40 km. The gradient of this canal is about 10 cm per km or 6 inches per mile. Yodha Ela functions as a moving reservoir and feeds about 4,600 hectares of paddy lands. It is a winding canal with about 120 smaller reservoirs on its way. It was constructed during the reign of King Dhatusena around 459 AD and later expanded by King Parakramabahu by connecting more reservoirs to the network. Unfortunately, during the Mahaweli project our modern-day engineers constructed a concrete canal replacing the winding path of this Yoda Ela also called Jaya Ganga. This effectively removed the ability of the old Yoda Ela to remove silt and nutrients. The bank of this Ela has wet zone trees such as jak and areca nut growing well. They take up the nutrients from the flowing stream making the water suitable for irrigation later.

Ancient Mesopotamian civilisations depended on dams constructed along the two main rivers, Euphrates and Tigris. After continuous irrigation of their fields over several thousand years, salinity of the irrigated lands increased making them unsuitable for agriculture. People died due to famine and this clearly illustrates the danger of blocking main rivers for agriculture. There is scientific evidence that the salinity of paddy soils in the Mahaweli C area is increasing.

We saw the devastation caused by Cyclone Ditwah. The sluice gates of the Kotmale Reservoir were opened, and Kandy and Peradeniya were flooded. If the reservoir had had greater storage capacity, couldn’t the opening of the gates have been delayed? This may not be an argument that modern-day engineers would readily accept, and I am not an irrigation expert. These ideas may well be naïve. But most of us tend to think of reservoirs mainly in terms of hydropower generation and irrigation, while their role in flood control receives much less attention. The question therefore deserves serious consideration. Could restoring lost reservoir capacity through desilting help improve our ability to manage extreme rainfall and reduce flood risks?

Desilting our reservoirs should be considered a national priority.

By Ifham Nizam

There are literary events where authors speak, audiences listen and books are discussed from every conceivable angle. Then there are evenings when a book escapes its pages and comes alive — in the voices, songs, costumes, dreams and boundless energy of young readers.

That was the spirit of “Gallivant Like a Girl”, held in style at Sarasavi’s Fairway Street of Stories, where author Ciara Mandulee Mendis handed over the spotlight to a remarkable group of young girls who had discovered their own adventures between the pages of Gallivanting.

It was colourful, spirited and, above all, deeply personal.

For Ciara, the session was deliberately different.

After years of hearing academics, adult readers and others discuss literature and her books, she felt it was time to hear directly from the generation she increasingly realised was connecting strongly with her work.

“Since we’ve been hearing from adults a little too much, I wanted to go for a refreshing change where young readers took centre stage,” Ciara told The Island.

And what a change it was.

Instead of a conventional author-led discussion, the young readers became reviewers, performers, storytellers and interpreters of Gallivanting. They presented readings, reflections, reviews and discussions inspired by the book, bringing their own perspectives and personalities to the experience.

Adding an especially vivid touch to the occasion, the girls appeared in traditional attire representing the six countries visited in the book.

For a while, Fairway Street seemed to transform into a little passport stamped with six destinations.

The colourful costumes transported the audience from one country to another, while the girls’ readings and reflections gave the journeys a distinctly youthful voice. They sang melodiously, spoke with confidence and shared their thoughts with an honesty that touched their author.

For Ciara, these were not simply children repeating what they had read.

They were readers responding to a book in their own voices.

“These are some of the most authentic reviews I have ever received for Gallivanting,” she said.

The significance of that statement becomes clearer when one understands what Gallivanting has meant to Ciara why she chose to bring these particular voices to the centre of her Fairway Street session.

Following the publication of the book, Ciara began receiving messages from readers. What surprised and delighted her was the number of young girls among them.

“I found out after Gallivanting was published that, considering all the readers who reached out to me after reading it, it was mostly girls — young girls who were inspired to follow their dreams, to travel and to pack that bag and go to that destination that they always wanted to go to,” she said.

But travel was only one part of the message.

Ciara also discovered that her book was encouraging girls to hold on to their talents, aspirations and dreams — things that can so easily be pushed aside as young people grow older and encounter the expectations of society.

That realisation gave birth to “Gallivant Like a Girl.”

The title itself was intended to challenge an old narrative and give a fresh meaning to the word “gallivant”.

For Ciara, gallivanting is not aimless wandering. It is an expression of curiosity and courage — the freedom to see the world, follow one’s dreams and discover one’s own path.

And when a girl gallivants, she does so unapologetically.

The Fairway Street performance captured precisely that spirit.

The young performers — Misandi Dias, Kevindee Fernando, Denuri Ramanayake, Nuvi Dias, Radini Reshinara Gunarathna, Kalisha Haputhanthri, Yethuli Ekanayake, Hesanya Dissanayake and Dewri Ramanayake — brought an infectious energy to the occasion.

One moment they were introducing a country through a reading; the next, they were appearing in traditional dress, singing or sharing a reflection. Their confidence grew as the programme unfolded, turning the literary session into a celebration of youthful imagination.

Mendis described the performance as “fabulous”, and it is easy to understand why.

The evening concluded with a beautiful performance that sought to capture something much larger than the journeys described in a book — the million dreams that live inside each of us.

It was a fitting climax.

For Ciara, Gallivanting was never simply about going from one place to another. It was about what happens when people allow themselves to dream beyond the boundaries that surround them.

And for girls in particular, she believes that message matters.

“Being women in a context like Sri Lanka, we have so many barriers,” she said.

Those barriers may be social, cultural or simply the quiet expectations that tell girls what they should or should not do. Some are obvious; others are so deeply woven into everyday life that they can become almost invisible.

Ciara wants the next generation to encounter fewer of them.

“I don’t want the younger generation to have even the comparatively few barriers that our generation had compared to the generations before us,” she said.

It is a sentiment that gives Gallivanting an added significance.

Ciara points out that she had not read many travelogues by girls, particularly Sri Lankan girls who had travelled and documented their experiences. Her book was, in part, an attempt to add her own voice to that space.

“I had not read many travelogues by girls, especially Sri Lankan girls who travelled. So that’s what I wanted to do with this book,” she said.

But the most rewarding part of that journey may now be seeing young girls respond to it.

At Fairway Street, they were not simply listening to an author tell them to dream.

They were standing on the stage and demonstrating that they already do.

Fairway Street of Stories comes alive

Their traditional costumes offered glimpses of distant cultures. Their readings gave voice to the journeys. Their songs filled the space with youthful warmth. Their reflections showed that the book had travelled beyond its author and found new meaning in the minds of its readers.

And then came the performance.

The girls transformed the evening from a literary event into something almost theatrical — a celebration of movement, imagination and possibility.

For Ciara, that was precisely the point.

She wanted to show girls that they could do whatever they set their hearts to.

The phrase “Gallivant Like a Girl”, therefore, became more than the title of a session. It became a declaration.

To gallivant like a girl is to travel fearlessly.

To dream boldly.

To follow curiosity.

To protect one’s talents.

To refuse to surrender one’s ambitions simply because the world says they are too big.

And perhaps most importantly, to carry those dreams wherever one goes.

The young performers became the perfect messengers for that idea.

Their participation also highlighted the importance of parents who encourage children to explore literature, creativity and self-expression.

Ciara was quick to acknowledge them.

“My love to this fabulous girl gang, and to their ever supportive parents,” she added warmly.

That tribute was as important as the applause that followed the performance.

Behind every confident young girl on a stage, there is often someone who told her that she could do it — a parent, teacher, friend or mentor who gave her the freedom to try.

At Sarasavi’s Fairway Street of Stories, those young girls were given that space.

And they filled it with colour.

They filled it with music.

They filled it with stories.

Most importantly, they filled it with dreams.

Perhaps that is what made the event unforgettable for Ciara.

She had written about journeys, but her young readers showed her that the greatest journey is not necessarily the one that takes us to another country. Sometimes it is the journey from imagining something to believing it is possible.

The girls did not merely review Gallivanting. They stepped into its world, interpreted it in their own voices and returned the story to its author transformed by their imagination.

That is the magic of books — they begin with one person’s words but can become something entirely different in the hands of another reader.

And at Fairway Street, nine young girls showed exactly how powerful that transformation can be.

As the evening drew to a close, the message of “Gallivant Like a Girl” remained in the air: that girls should not be told to make their dreams smaller, their journeys shorter or their horizons narrower.

They should be encouraged to look beyond the familiar, pack their courage beside their dreams and step into the world with confidence.

Because somewhere inside every young girl may be a traveller, an artist, a writer, a scientist, an entrepreneur, an explorer — or simply someone waiting to discover who she can become.

And perhaps that is the real meaning of gallivanting like a girl: not merely travelling from country to country, but moving through life fearlessly, dreaming boldly and carrying a million dreams in your pockets.

At Fairway Street, those dreams were no longer hidden.

They were singing, speaking, dancing and, most beautifully of all, beginning their journey.