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M. D. Banda: Memories of our Appachchi

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(The 112th Birth Anniversary M. D. Banda fell on March 09.)

My memories of Appachchi when I was very little are nebulous. Whilst this may be the case with all little children, even ones with fathers who have regular 9-5 jobs, in my case, this was due to two additional reasons: our Appachchi lived mostly at “Shravasthi” the special residence for Lankan parliamentarians and not at our ancestral home home, in our village, Panaliya.

Additionally, we were all at boarding schools and spent nine months of the year in our respective school hostels. Thus, it was just during the holidays that the seven of us (my four sisters, two brothers and I) were at home, in Panaliya.

Looking back on this time, I realise that during most of my childhood my father was a Cabinet Minister, and one who was completely dedicated to his duties. He was conscientious to a fault, attending to ministerial duties, attending parliamentary sittings and cabinet meetings diligently. Appachchi first entered Parliament in 1947 when he was just 29 years old, and

was almost immediately appointed to the post of Parliamentary Secretary (Junior Minister) to the Minister of Labour and Social Services in May 1948. He was Minister of Labour and Social Services in February in 1950 and was again appointed to the same post by Hon Dudley Senanayake in March 1952. He became Minister of Education in June 1952 so that by the time I was born in December 1952, he was a senior member of the Dudley Senanayake Cabinet. I only fully realised how busy he must have been much later in life. As young children, it is our mother who gave us love and a sense of security by being fully present in our lives and seeing to all our needs, even when we were in school hostels.

Pivotal points

Our mother informed us one day, when I was around 3 or 4 years old , that Appachchi would be coming home that evening. Although my memories of this period are quite hazy, I recall very clearly the keen enthusiasm with which we awaited his arrival. Evening moved into night and his arrival was pushed back late and further late into the night. The moment I woke up the next morning I remember asking Amma where Appachchi was. “He came home very late last night but had to leave early this morning. He was a little annoyed with you, Lokka (everyone in the family calls me ‘Lokka’ even now), because you had parked your little car near the stairway, and Appachchi nearly tripped over it’ (this was before we had electricity in our home). My little heart was overwhelmed with sorrow for not only had I not seen Appachchi but I had inadvertently caused him injury with my careless parking of my miniature car.

This incident is indelibly etched in my mind because I believe that this was the first time in my life, that I experienced the agony of shattered expectations. Why I felt such intense pain then as a little child was perhaps because of how much I loved my father.

I was admitted to Hillwood College, Kandy at the age of three and a half and lived in the school hostel for three years. I clearly remember Amma visiting us at least once or twice a month with goodies and treats for us and our friends. I do not however have any clear memory of Appachchi visiting us during this time. At the time I didn’t realise that this was due to the busy life he led. At Hillwood, I had all the love and attention I needed from my four older sisters and my four older cousin sisters (our Lokuamma’s daughters).

My younger brother Senaka and I then entered Dharmaraja College, Kandy in 1961 . We were hostelers and attended school from the hostel. I clearly remember Amma visiting us regularly during this period too. I had my first real and meaningful conversation with Appachchi during this time: One day, our warden Mr Wimalachandra informed me that appachchi had come to take Senaka mallie and me out. We visited a relative of ours in Harispattuwa, had lunch with them and on our return journey to the school hostel, I told appachchi that I was playing cricket for the under 12 team at Dharmaraja College, and therefore needed a bat.

“Are you playing hardball?”

(I didn’t understand the question so I was silent)

“Is it the red ball?”

“Ah, yes.”

“Is it that kind of bat that you need?”

“Yes.”

“What is your position in the team?”

(I was once again silent)

“Are you an opening batsman? Or are you number 3, 4 or 5?”

“I can bat and bowl. I do both”

“Ah! Then you are an all-rounder. Number 6,7 – I will buy you this kind of bat. Play well till then.”

And the conversation continued in the vein but no bat has come to date!!!

Little did I know at the time that Appachchi was himself an outstanding cricketer, who represented the St Anthony’s College.Katugastota team and, later, for the Ceylon University College team, as an opening batsman. This is why he was so well versed with the game and was highly interested in my own cricketing capabilities. His passion for cricket was clear to us later on too because we all recall how he and his nephews, Bertie and Nimal, would listen to cricket commentaries and were glued to the radio when England and Australia played biennially for the famous Ashes trophy.

On the day of this momentous conversation, Bertie aiya (appachchi’s long-time Private Secretary, and his sister’s son; a lawyer by profession) had also come with Appachchi. It is from Bertie aiya that I learnt that day that the car they had driven up to Kandy in (an Austin A 70) belonged to Appachchi. I later learnt that Appachchi had not one but two cars (a Fiat 1400 too). Both cars were driven by Ranbanda, the chauffer, and were in Colombo because there was no one who could drive them at Panaliya. Amma always hired a car for her personal use at Panaliya, and would visit us in school in these hired cars, until her youngest brother Tissa came to live in our home at Panaliya. Tissa maama then drove amma around and would very often drive us to our school hostels. Another rather amusing memory from this same time goes like this: during a school holiday when I was in grade 6 at Dharmaraja College, Appachchi asked for my report card. I was 6 th

in class and therefore promptly and proudly took it to him. Appachchi scrutinised my report card carefully and said, not unkindly, ‘If you are 6 th in class with marks like this, all the other children in your class must be buffaloes’.

A shift in gears

I think I really got to know Appachchi well when Senaka malli and I entered Ananda College in Colombo. Although we first went to school from the school hostel, we would go to Appachchi’s official residence at Wijerama Mawatha every weekend. By this time, Amma too had moved to Colombo. Thus, between 1965 – 1970 , our home was at Wijerama Mawatha, with them. So, that is when I got the chance to interact closely with Appachchi. It was only at this time that it dawned on me that Appachchi was a powerful Cabinet Minister who was loved and respected by his constituents and the people of our country.

During this time, when I needed anything, I would go to his room early in the morning to remind him of what I needed. These requests were for the most part fulfilled.

Once I remember that I asked for track shoes (spikes) and Appachchi bought me a pair from abroad. When I needed money to buy a Tennis racket, he told me to go to the sports-ware store, ‘Chands’ at Chatham Street and select a racket. I received top treatment there and was even offered orange barley!

Then again I urgently needed ‘longs’ (trousers) to wear to school. “How many do you need?” he asked. Without thinking I said, “six”. “Why six?” he demanded. “There are only 5 days in the school week, no? Three would do.” Then he directed me to the ‘West End’ tailors’ shop in Pettah and asked me to get them stitched there.

It was Appachchi’s habit to take us to the Lake House Book shop every year and allow us to buy whatever we wanted. Considering that there were 7 of us, Senaka Malli and I chose just three or four books and took them to the counter, while our Chuti Malli Senerath, would bring a pile of books! “Do you want all these books?” Appachchi asked. Chuti Malli nodded “yes” and Appachchi bought all of them for him! This was probably because Appachchi himself loved books and wished to encourage the reading habit in his children.

When apachchi passed away in 1974, Senerath Malli was only 14 years old and I believe that the loss was greatest for him.

(To be concluded)

Loku Putha,

Gamini Leeniyagolla



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Opinion

Beware of Yanks bearing gifts

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Helicopters from the US. (Pic courtesy SLAF)

The US Government has gifted 10 Bell 206, Sea Ranger Helicopters to the SLAF for Training and Humanitarian Assistance and Disaster Relief (HADR) purposes. The full specifications are as follows.

Contractor:

Bell Helicopter Textron
Date Deployed: First flight: 1961; Operational: 1968
Propulsion: One Allison 250-C20BJ turbofan engine
Length: Fuselage – 31 feet (9.44 meters); Rotors turning – 39 feet (11.9 meters)
Height: 10 feet (3.04 meters)
Rotor Diameter: 35 feet 4 inches (10.78 meters)
Weight: 1595 pounds (725kg) empty, 3200 pounds (1455 kg) maximum take-off
Airspeed: 138 miles (222 km) per hour maximum; 117 miles (188 km) per hour cruising
Ceiling: 18,900 feet (5,761 meters)
Range: 368 nautical miles (420 statute miles, 676 km)
Crew: One pilot, four students

While they are good for training, I have my serious doubts whether these helicopters are ideal for HADR. As they have only a single engine and They can’t even operate into high rise helipads in hospitals and hotels in Colombo. The law requires twin engine helicopters! What happens if there is an engine failure while operating over the sea or in a mountainous area? There will be hell to pay!

Three twin engine versions would have been better.

How many helicopter pilots does the SLAF require anyway?

Will we be stuck with junk? Like two Russian KA -26’s during the Sirimavo Government and French Aerospatiale Dauphins SLAF acquired. which were not ‘tropicalised’, during the JRJ Government.

Will the Sea Ranger Spares support be available, free of charge?

I doubt it.

There will also be other Geopolitical strings attached. There is no such thing as a free lunch.

Guwan Seeya

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Opinion

Will AI kill solar and wind energy?

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Global warming policies were expected to drive a rapid shift toward a renewables-based energy system dominated by wind and solar. While growth in these sources did occur, it has not matched the pace that was widely anticipated. In the United States, the rise of cheap and abundant shale natural gas significantly reshaped the energy mix, displacing coal and limiting the relative share of wind and solar in electricity generation. In China and India, the situation has been different.

Coal remains dominant because it is widely available domestically, while natural gas is more limited or expensive to secure at scale. As a result, coal has retained its central role in both countries’ power systems. Solar and wind always provide intermittent, variable power. It was widely assumed that a cost-effective, utility-scale electricity storage solution would emerge to solve this problem, but that has not yet happened at the scale originally expected. In the pre-AI era, solar and wind were typically integrated into power systems alongside more reliable sources such as coal, natural gas, and nuclear energy.

For example, if the sun was shining on a Monday, electricity demand could be met largely by solar power during the day. At night, coal, natural gas, or nuclear plants would supply the required electricity. If the following Tuesday was cloudy or gloomy, generation would shift back toward coal, gas, or nuclear to maintain supply. AI introduces a new and more demanding challenge. AI data centers require continuous, high-quality, always-on electricity, which solar and wind alone struggle to guarantee without large-scale storage or back-up systems. In addition, they require very large amounts of power.

As a result, the AI industry is now actively searching for new and expanded sources of reliable electricity. One of the major challenges in powering AI systems is electricity transmission. High-voltage transmission lines are expensive, slow to build, and often face regulatory and land-use constraints. As a result, some companies are exploring more localized power solutions, sometimes referred to as microgrids. These are self-contained energy systems that can operate independently from the main electricity grid. Technologies such as small modular nuclear reactors are an example of such microgrids.

In such isolated systems, the focus is on highly reliable, always available power generated close to the point of use. In this context, solar and wind are expected to play a limited role because their output is variable and depends on weather conditions, making them less suited as primary sources in fully self-contained AI-focused microgrids. The pace of AI infrastructure development is extremely rapid in both the United States and China. AI systems are widely seen as transformative technologies that promise significant new wealth creation, which is driving aggressive and sustained investment. As a result, development is moving quickly, without waiting for long-term solutions such as large-scale energy storage to mature alongside renewable energy systems.

In this environment, electricity demand is rising faster than new infrastructure can be built. In the United States, this reinforces the role of natural gas as the dominant source of reliable power. In China and India, where coal remains more established and readily available, it is likely to continue playing a central role in meeting growing demand. In India, AI data centers have not yet been built at the scale seen in the United States and China. When India does reach that stage, it will need to supply large amounts of reliable electricity. India has placed strong emphasis on solar energy in particular and has had some success in meeting the needs of ordinary consumers through renewable expansion. However, the key question is what choices will be made when large-scale AI data centers begin to arrive.

Will India rely more on coal generation, which is relatively cheap, widely available, and highly reliable, or on solar power, which is intermittent, variable, and often more expensive when reliability is taken into account? My view is that India is more likely to turn to coal to meet this demand, given its existing infrastructure and the need for dependable electricity supply. Then there is an overall question. Solar and wind were already struggling in the pre-AI days to displace coal and natural gas at the system level, despite strong expectations that they would become dominant sources of electricity. Now that AI is here and electricity demand is rising rapidly, will they push solar and wind further behind in the energy mix? (The Statesman)

(The writer is an expert on energy and contributes regularly to publications in India and overseas.)

by SUNIL SHARAN

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Opinion

An Adulation to a Titan of Humanity

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Dr. Neomal Gunaratna

Celebrating the Life and Legacy of Dr Naomal P. S. Gunaratna 10 January 1931 – 07 May 2026

When a colossus of human virtue departs this earthly theatre, the silence left in its wake is not merely the absence of sound, but a profound, resonant reverberation that echoes through the very corridors of our souls. On that most distressing 07 of May, 2026, the mortal final curtain fell upon the magnificent, multi-faceted tapestry of a life lived to its exquisite pinnacle. Dr Naomal P. S. Gunaratna, having completed a glorious earthly sojourn of ninety-five years, surrendered his gentle spirit to the infinite, leaving behind a world demonstrably poorer for his departure.

To speak of him is to speak of an absolute gem of humanity, a mortal who walked among us with the quiet majesty of a king, the tender heart of a saint, and the flawless grace of a true nobleman. He was a Consultant Paediatrician of peerless distinction. Yet for all that, well above and beyond the glittering accolades of his noble vocation, he was, in the truest and most sublime sense of the phrase, a human being par excellence.

In attempting to encapsulate the vast depth of Naomal’s character, even the richness of the English language feels frustratingly inadequate, compelling one to search for words forged in the fires of profoundest reverence. He was a grandee possessed of sterling qualities so rare in this modern transactional era that his presence felt like an exquisite anachronism; a beautiful remainder of an age when honour was a man’s sanctuary, and integrity was his unwavering Northern Star. His uniqueness did not stem from an assertive, ostentatious display of superiority. It blossomed from the quiet, luminous radiance of an authentic soul. To have been counted among his close friends is a privilege of such monumental proportions that it stands as one of the most radiant blessings of my own life. Our bond was not woven from the fragile threads of casual acquaintance, but forged in the durable crucible of mutual respect, shared ideals, and a deep, unspoken understanding of the beauty inherent in lives dedicated to the service of others.

In an age where the ethical landscape is all too often obscured by the shifting mists of compromise and moral ambivalence, Naomal stood like an unyielding granite cliff against the turbulent seas of opportunism. His rectitude was absolute, non-negotiable, and entirely independent of an audience. He did what was right, not for the fleeting warmth of public adulation, but because his internal moral compass was tuned to an otherworldly frequency. His word was a sacred covenant, an unbreakable bond that required no legal seal or written witness. In his professional life as a Consultant Paediatrician, this supreme integrity manifested as an unswerving commitment to the highest principles of Hippocratic devotion. He was a healer who could neither be bought nor swayed by the seductive allure of material gain or institutional politics. He wielded his stethoscope not as an instrument of commerce, but as a sacred conduit of compassion, bridging the divide between clinical expertise and the tender vulnerabilities of human suffering.

How can one adequately depict the soft, enveloping warmth of a heart that beats in perpetual symphony with the distress of others? Naomal’s benevolence was not a performative gesture, nor was it a duty executed with cold, clinical precision. It was an effusive, spontaneous overflow of pure, unadulterated love. It was a kindness that possessed its own unique atmosphere, a soothing gentleness that disarmed fear and banished despair. When he entered a room, the emotional temperature invariably rose, thawed by the genuine, sparkling warmth of his magnificent smile. His eyes, windows to a soul completely devoid of malice, mirrored a profound empathy that could diagnose a broken spirit as swiftly as a physical ailment.

He was brought up in his early days at De Mazenod College in Kandana, St Peter’s College Colombo, Royal College Colombo, and during the period of World War II, in Glendale College, Bandarawela. In a glittering career that followed specialisation in paediatrics, he has worked in the Government Hospital in Gampaha and Kuliyapitiya, the Department of Paediatrics of the University of Peradeniya, North Colombo Medical College in Ragama and then at the Department of Paediatrics of the University of Kelaniya. To the thousands of children who passed through his healing hands across the decades, he was not merely a doctor in a sterile white coat; he was a grand, benevolent guardian angel, a comforting presence whose very touch possessed an alchemy that turned terror into tranquillity and tears into triumphant laughter. To scores of his students, he was a father figure, a mentor and a brilliant teacher. In the years gone by, he was the President of the Sri Lanka Paediatric Association, which is now the Sri Lanka College of Paediatricians, President of the Vaccines and Infectious Diseases Forum of Sri Lanka and a much-valued Council Member of the Independent Medical Practitioners Association (IMPA). The unblemished finesse that he exhibited in these positions is indeed an abiding lesson to all and sundry.

As a Consultant Paediatrician, Naomal’s brilliance was legendary, a beacon of excellence that illuminated the medical fraternity. Yet, his profound intellect was beautifully balanced by an equal measure of humility. He possessed the rare ability to untangle the most knotty, complex medical conundrums with a swift, intuitive diagnostic precision, all while maintaining a bedside manner that was as gentle as a summer breeze. He understood, with a depth that bypassed mere textbook knowledge, that a sick child is a fragile ecosystem, intertwined with the agonising anxieties of distraught parents. Consequently, his consultations were masterclasses in holistic healing. He did not merely treat a disease; he cradled a family. He would spend hours patiently explaining clinical intricacies to frightened mothers, his voice a calm, reassuring anchor in the midst of their emotional storms. He treated the children of royalty and the children of peasants, with the same meticulous care, the same overflowing affection, and the same absolute dedication, recognising the identical, priceless spark of divinity within each innocent soul.

A personal anecdote goes to show the most admirable and true spirit of the man. I did not know Naomal from Adam till 1990. In January of 1990, following my tenure of office in General Hospital Badulla, General Hospital Ratnapura and General Hospital Kurunegala, I was posted as the Consultant Paediatrician to Kalubowila Hospital by the Ministry of Health. Both Naomal and I did our Private Consultations at Asiri Medical Hospital. We worked on the same floor and became really close friends. He had loads of patients, while I had extremely few, as I was totally unknown. Most of the time, I was seated in my Consulting Room, twiddling my thumbs and waiting for some tangible work with children.

Then one day, Naomal came to my room and said that he needed to go abroad for an extended period of about six to eight months and asked me whether I could look after his patients. I was very happy to do it as at that time, as it was like ‘manna from heaven’ for me. So, it went on, I looked after his little patients, and I was financially the richer for it.

Then, when Naomal came back after all those months, I told all his patients that I was only covering up his work and that they should go back to him. However, some of them wanted to stay with me. I told them that the only way in which I would continue to look after their children was for them to get a note to that effect from Dr Naomal Gunaratna. I was quite sure that it would not come to pass that way. They went to him and told him what I said, and Naomal, most nonchalantly, graciously and with the greatest pleasure, issued a little note to each of them in which he had written “My dear BJC, please be kind enough to take over the care of this child“. Need I say more? What a man? What a fantastic person who showed by his quiet deeds that his values transcended petty considerations and monetary reflections?

The longevity of ninety-five years is a milestone granted only to a few. For Naomal, these nine decades plus were not merely a passive accumulation of days but a grand, purposeful march through time. He aged with an unparalleled, majestic dignity, his wisdom deepening like a fine vintage, while his youthful enthusiasm for life remained entirely unextinguished by the passing years. Even as his physical frame grew frail under the inevitable weight of time, his mind remained a brilliant, caerulean laboratory of thought, and his spirit retained its effervescent, childlike joy. He never allowed the cynicism of an evolving world to pollute the pristine waters of his optimism. To sit with him in his twilight years was to drink from a fountain of pure, unvarnished wisdom. He looked back upon his long journey not with the wistful regrets of a man mourning, but with the serene, tranquil satisfaction of an accomplished master craftsman who looks upon a masterpiece and knows he has given it his all, in the finest sense of the phrase.

We must also celebrate the quiet, understated grandeur of his private universe. Naomal was a man of exquisite tastes, an intellectual who found solace in the harmony of great literature, the majesty of classical arts, and the quiet contemplation of nature’s wonders. Yet, his greatest joy was found in the warmth of human connections. He was a loyal, fiercely protective friend, a steadfast pillar of strength upon whom one could lean with absolute confidence, even during life’s most turbulent seasons. In an era dominated by superficial relationships and digital illusions, his friendship was a solid, tangible sanctuary. His conversations were never trivial; they were rich and multi-layered tapestries woven with historical anecdotes, medical philosophies, gentle humour, and profound spiritual insights. To converse with him was to be elevated, and to be challenged to think more deeply, love more expansively, and live more honourably.

On that day of his departure from this mortal world, the world lost an exceptional treasure. The medical profession lost one of its most venerable elder statesmen, humanity lost an exemplary ambassador, and I lost a cherished brother of the heart. The grief we feel is heavy, a dark and suffocating shroud that threatens to overwhelm us. Yet, as we stand in the shadow of this monumental loss, we must not weep as those who have no hope. Naomal’s demise is not an absolute end but a glorious transition. It is the triumphant homecoming of a soul that has magnificently fulfilled its earthly mandate. The physical vessel which carried his inner being may return to the dust from which it came, but the essence of who he was, the kindness he disseminated, the lives he saved, the love he kindled, and the pristine integrity he modelled remain forever immortalised in the fabric of our realities.

He has crossed the ultimate horizon, entering that everlasting realm where pain is obsolete, and peace reigns eternal. We can almost see him now, walking through fields of everlasting light, his countenance radiant, his step light and free, greeted by a chorus of godly beings and even the grateful souls of the children he mended but who preceded him into eternity. The man has fought the good fight, he has finished the race, he has kept the faith with absolute, unyielding fidelity. His life was a beautiful, symphonic ensemble dedicated to the upliftment of humans, and its final stanza, though hushed in death, is an abiding opus which leaves an eternal melody playing in our hearts.

Farewell, my dearly beloved friend; goodbye, Dr Naomal P. S. Gunaratna. You were an absolute gem of a person, a human being par excellence, and a star that burned with a brilliant, comforting light in our earthly sky. Though you have gone away from our sight, your luminescence will continue to guide our steps through the gathering shadows until that glorious dawn when we shall meet again on the farther shore.

May your most beautiful, noble soul rest in eternal, serene, and uninterrupted peace. May you attain eternal bliss!

I conclude with the immortal words, as depicted by the great bard William Shakespeare in Julius Caesar (Act V, Scene 5) “His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him that nature might stand up and say to all the world, This was a man.”

By Dr B. J. C. Perera
Specialist Consultant Paediatrician

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