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Muslims and ban on cattle slaughter

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“The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.”-Mahatma Gandhi

Sri Lanka has an ancient culture. We have been told about vehicles that flew, birds that announced the birth of gods: a wonderment of unexpected pleasures. Our myths speak of a land in which all living things flourished, where humans communicated directly with animals and people had learnt that it is the purpose of life to engender more life. As Creation is the supreme force in the universe, the beneficence of life and its comprehension through love, is to facilitate as many expressions of life as possible. We have an ancient tradition that a man may become a god by emulating the qualities of the divine. As the sun is the source of life on the planet, our forefathers recognized it as the fertility symbol nonpareil. As worshippers of Surya, our behaviour would be arya, as elevated and exalted as the source.

Every life is a unique personal undertaking and the only thing an individual can know is itself. Every other knowing is external and it is what Huxley meant when he said we were each an island universe with every experience only conveyable third hand. No one actually can know what it is like to be anyone else. As such, enlightened self-interest is the only personal inquiry we can make, with the all- important caveat that in our self-discovery we may not interfere with anything else’s self-discovery.

Hence ahimsa comes from himsa, and is a crucial aspect of the great or common consensus (Mahasammata) that if Man lives in Dhamma, the land, people, flora and fauna would be safe. This recognition of the sacred nature of life made it incumbent that we live our lives disturbing other living systems as little as possible.

The book, Portuguese Encounters with Sri Lanka and the Maldives, ed. Chandra Richard De Silva, Ashgate, 2009, highlights that there was no slaughter of cattle in Lanka prior to colonisation:

“… In this country there are many false beliefs sown by the devil, and to eradicate them there is a need for much time and trouble. I mention those that I remember, for I do not know them all. There is a class of gentiles who do not kill any living creature, not even the most poisonous snakes, nor any insect or worm whatever. They do not eat anything that has been killed, whether it is meat or fish. They do not eat bread, however hungry or needy they might be. Their food is made up of the leaves of a certain creeper (betel leaves) that climbs other trees like ivy. These leaves are smeared with the same kind of lime that they use for whitewashing their houses…

“…There is another class of people who do not kill any living creatures, except those they themselves need for their food, such as rats and salamanders and lizards of the forests; for they do not eat beef or the flesh of other animals. There is another class of people who kill fish, and this is only the caste they call paravas. These do not kill any poisonous insect they may find in their house. Yet all these people, if they choose and are able to do so, kill men, and their doctrine does not forbid it. There is another class of people that eats fowl and wild boar and deer, but does not eat the flesh of cows, since they believe their souls enter into cows after death; they will never kill a cow and eat its flesh…”

In the Lanka of Mahasammata, one’s duty to one’s village outweighed any perceived duty to oneself. One must make one’s contribution to the society in which one lived. A vocational caste system handed down secrets to successive generations, in a system where one’s knowledge was one’s wealth, with the Divine as the Supreme Master of one’s craft, one performs one’s duty with an aim to perfection in union of mind and spirit so each attempt brought one closer to the Ultimate Prize. In a land ruled by the Unseen King, in both metaphor and practise, the King embodies Mahasammata and sets the standard for the people. The people know that if they live in dhamma, Dhamma would protect them, and the land would be safe. In this milieu of trust and obligation, anyone who broke faith and violated trust was banished from the village. This was the origin of the ahikuntakayas. At this time beef-eating was punished by banishment from one’s caste and village, as edicts stemming from the advent of the Portuguese indicate.

My teacher, farmer Mudiyanse Tennekoon, believed that only a return to Mahasammata could rescue our nation, as it had become clear that the fate of Lanka was drenched in a post-colonial experience that threatened to smother us in the fire of unrighteousness. It seemed to him that the wisdom of our ancients, which vouchsafed consensus as the legitimate form of governance, had been jettisoned for a system based in dissent and acrimonious debate. Further, it seemed that certain elemental forces of globalist origin were cutting swathes to the interior of our country, such that the viability of the essential core of our island’s life was at risk. If the government continues implementing the various sanctions of the globalist agendas, our subsistence farmers are at great risk, and with them the lifeblood of our country and culture. A re-establishment of ahimsa was a necessary step for the restoration of Mahasammata.

As vouchsafed by Arabi Veediya in Anuradhapura, Arabs have been coming to Lanka long before the birth of the Prophet. Though modern Muslims sometimes scoff at customs and rituals of the oral tradition, and seek their answers only in texts, Kataragama has long been associated in Islamic esoterism with El Khidr, the Green Man of Islam. The idea of El Khidr also predates Islam, as he is commonly held to be the person whom Moses met at the Juncture of two rivers and who instructed him in the Tradition. Consequently, if the Muslims of Sri Lanka were doing something so abhorrent to the culture of the island, when the Portuguese came looking for them, the Sinhala kings would not have hidden them but handed them over to the Portuguese.

On Sep 12, 2014, with some friends we began a campaign to end cattle-slaughter in Sri Lanka, and while I went around the country collecting signatures for a petition to parliament one question I was asked over and over again was this: “What did I expect the reaction of the Muslims of Sri Lanka to be to my campaign?” I replied that many people I had spoken to, some in my own family, had been against this campaign, and many others were wholeheartedly supportive of me, all urged utmost caution. I said that I had been able to make my immediate family aware that this was not a scurrilous exercise, but a restoration of ahimsa that colonialism had destroyed. I appealed to the generally accepted personality of the Prophet, as one who loved amity and good manners, and who, as Muslim tradition would have it, was not a person to hurt the feelings or sensibilities of others. In this I spoke to the spirit of the Revelation, which to me is as much about equity and social justice as it is about transcendental reality.

There is no doubt that Muslims are not barred by tradition, custom or revelation from eating beef; however, it is also plain that a claim to a democratic right to kill is a symptom of our postcolonial dystopia. Mahasammata is nothing less than an exhortation to behave well, to have good manners. And good manners, as my late wife Jeanne pointed out, is never more than consideration for other people and making them comfortable. As such, I believe that as a Sri Lankan Muslim, it is incumbent on me to respect the mores of my compatriots and to live in a way that will lead to greater social cohesion, amity and unity of purpose. Perhaps, Muslims should ask themselves why pre-colonial Sri Lanka fitted every description of Paradise in the Qur’an.

FEISAL MANSOOR

Convenor, Saradiel Movement

Saradiel.com

 

 



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Opinion

Prisoners are human beings

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In developed countries such as US, prisons are normally built, far away from City Areas because of the risk of prison breaking as happened recently in Negombo. For an example, just imagine what would be the fate of people around Colombo, if an attempt to break the jail in Welikada become a success. Therefore, it is necessary to introduce strategies to discipline our prisoners to behave as humans rather than simply displaying above message to the people living outside of the prison, as happened in Sri Lanka. To materialised above idea. it is necessary discipline prisoners mentally before they are released. As a Buddhist country we could develop our own model based on Buddhist Stanza such as Wanaropa Sutta to mentally discipline the prisoners. According to that Stanza, people would naturally get self-disciplined themselves while growing trees

The World Health Organization (WHO) reports, that the food not only affects physical and mental health, but is also key to successful rehabilitation and resettlement after release of prisoners. Recognizing this, many organisations and correctional facilities are striving to create a stronger and more sustainable food system among prison populations, which totaled more than 10.35 million globally in 2016, according to the World Prison Brief.

Based on above observations, we could creatively plan to relocate our prisons outside cities. For an example, already ecologically damaged area adjacent to Wilpattu Sanctuary could be used to build an ecofriendly prison. It should be designed with qualified Landscape Architects specialized in designing ecofriendly prisons as adapted in other countries. Those projects should be a joint effort with prisoners because the prisoners themselves should also become the partners of the project while rejuvenating original forest cover after project completion. While creating the forest cover, in the case of Wipattu, we could also use our traditional Chena Cultivation approaches which are now treated in developed countries as most sustainable land use method, to produce healthy foods without damaging eco systems.

By that approach, we could also transform whole prison premises to Organic Food Production Farm, managed by the prisoners themselves. This is very common in developed countries. In my view, the prisoners serving long term jails are ideal for this effort. After their release, they would definitely duplicate their experience in their residence areas rather than repeating crimes as happening now days. They also could be entitled for any profits generated from the project which takes about 5 years for completion. Income generating from farms could be deposited into the bank accounts of prisoners in order to use it after their release.

Another potential area for this intervention is Kandakadu Prison, which was an Agriculture Farm before it was transformed to a rehabilitation camp. Being located adjacent to an area with elephant population and the Beach in Batticaloa, eco-tourism hotel might be the best option for this area. Income generation from tourism is the return on investment which could be used to duplicate same concept to similar locations. Another potential area is the Right Bank area of Maduru Oya located near an Army Camp. Animal Husbandry is ideal for this area. Another potential area is Manthieu island, Batticoloa.

Capital required to invest for this type intervention could be generated by selling the urban areas currently allocated to prisons. Sri Lanka Army could be the ideal implementation agency mainly because of possible reluctances of Prison Officers to work in remote areas such as Wilpattu.

Mahinda Panapitiya

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Resplendent isle in transit: The misery of getting from A to B

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Train service in Sri Lanka

For centuries, many travellers have waxed eloquent about Sri Lanka, the “Resplendent Isle.” They spoke of lush tea estates, golden shores, and a spirit of much-admired spontaneous hospitality that defined our Pearl of the Indian Ocean. But today, the residents of this isle know a different reality; one not of postcards, but of grease, grit, and the grinding misery of a transport system, virtually in terminal collapse. To move from Point A to Point B in modern Sri Lanka is no longer a simple errand; it is a “Herculean effort” of survival against a backdrop of state incompetence, private-sector thuggery, total disregard for human decency and a government that seems to have outsourced its conscience to the highest bidder.

For the millions who call this thrice-blessed island home, the daily reality of navigating it by any form of transport has become a “major catastrophe” of Dickensian proportions. To move from Point A to Point B in 2026 is no longer a simple logistical task; it is a distasteful test of human endurance, a drain on the spirit, and a gamble with one’s own safety. The current transport status of Sri Lanka is not merely “poor”, a terminology that defies even proper definition. It is a monumental systemic failure, a toxic cocktail of state negligence, private-sector extortion, and a total collapse of regulatory oversight.

The Iron Horse in Decay: A Rail Service in Tatters

At the heart of our transit woes is the state-run surface rail service. As the only transport entity exclusively handled by the government, the railways should be the backbone of our economy. Instead, they have become a testament to nonchalant and omnipresent bureaucratic apathy. The carriages, many of which look as though they have not seen a lick of paint or a structural repair since the mid-20th century, are in a state of advanced decay.

The statistics tell a grim story. Derailments have become so frequent that they are no longer headline news but a daily footnote in the lives of commuters. These “accidents” are rarely the acts of God; they are the inevitable results of poor maintenance of tracks and rolling stock. Unacceptable delays are now the standard operating procedure. A journey that should take an hour often stretches into three, leaving students, office workers, and labourers stranded on sweltering platforms while the authorities offer nothing but silence or hollow excuses. While other nations race toward high-speed travel connectivity, our “Queen of Jaffna” and “Udarata Menike” crawl through a landscape of systemic neglect.

The symptoms are visible to any commuter: rusted carriages with leaking roofs, seat upholstery that has not seen a deep clean since the 1970s, and an electrical system prone to sparks and darkness. But the issues run deeper than aesthetics. We are witnessing a terrifying frequency of derailments, often blamed on “technical faults” that are actually the predictable results of poor track maintenance and a lack of spare parts. Accidents at unprotected crossings continue to claim lives, while “unacceptable delays” have become the only predictable feature of the timetable. For the office worker in Colombo Fort or the student in Peradeniya, the train is no longer a vessel of progress; it is a gamble with time and safety.

The Bus “Mafia” and the Ransom of the Commuter

If the rail service is a ghost of a bygone era, the fee-levying bus service is a modern-day war zone. The landscape is split between the state-run Sri Lanka Transport Board (SLTB), burdened by a very poorly maintained fleet of ageing buses and a massive and aggressive fleet of private buses, which outmatch and outperform the state-run flotilla, not by efficiency but by sheer intimidation. It is absolutely crucial to note that neither serves the public. The SLTB really operates a skeletal, poorly maintained fleet that barely scratches the surface of demand. The private buses are a law unto themselves.

At the heart of the private transport sector lies an association that critics have aptly dubbed a “Mafia.” Headed by the influential figure colloquially known as “Bus G”, this association holds the entire nation’s commuters to ransom. At the drop of a hat, they can paralyse the country with “trade union action” that are little more than unsophisticated blackmail. In a telling ransom note, whenever a policy change or a fuel hike threatens their bottom line, the buses disappear from the roads. The result? Thousands of citizens are stranded in the blistering heat, watching their productivity and dignity evaporate while the “association” negotiates with a government that appears to be absolutely terrified of their political muscle.

There is a dark irony in the politics of it all. The kingpins of this “bus mafia” openly boast that they were instrumental in bringing the current political powers into office. Consequently, the government appears not just toothless, but complicit. While the public suffers, the state turns a blind eye to overcrowding, reckless driving, and the use of nasty, addictive drugs by the staff, which turns our highways into graveyards. The powers-that-be do not have the gumption to call a spade, just that, a spade, and rein in the miscreants, using the finest employment of the laws that govern this country.

The Law of the Tuk-Tuk: A Free-for-All on Three Wheels

Descending further into the chaos, we find the omnipresent three-wheeler and taxi services. Once a convenient alternative, the “Tuk-Tuk” has become a law unto itself. In a country where the cost of living is already spiralling, these unscrupulous operators have created a “free-for-all” fare system. There is no central control over rates; instead, passengers are forced to haggle or succumb to whatever arbitrary figure the driver decides upon. For those who can afford to bypass the buses, the totally inconsiderate charges of three-wheelers and private taxis offer no sanctuary. What was once a convenient last-mile solution has devolved into a predatory racket. The tuk-tuk services have become stallions of self-importance, operating without any meaningful oversight of rates or conduct.

Commuters are met with the nonchalant refusal of short-distance hires. Drivers, seeking to “make a fast buck,” prioritise long-distance hauls where they can extort exorbitant, unmetered fares. In the absence of a standardised digital fare system enforced by the state, the passenger is always the loser. The arrogance is palpable, and respect for fellow humans has been thrown out the window. These operators behave as if they own the asphalt, often claiming that their collective vote base was the kingmaker for the current political establishment. This perceived “immunity” has bred a culture of impunity where the commuter is treated as a nuisance rather than a customer.

For the elderly trying to reach a hospital or a worker trying to get home during a rainstorm, the “refusal” has become a standard, insulting rejection. The fee-levying taxi services, though slightly more professional in appearance, operate with a similar mercenary mindset, exploiting the desperation of a public that has no other choice.

The RMV Mess, the Registration Trap and the Police Ambush

For those who have attempted to escape the public transport nightmare by purchasing their own vehicles, a different kind of trap awaits. The government has allowed the mass import of private vehicles, including two-wheelers, but the Registrar of Motor Vehicles (RMV) has become a black hole of inefficiency. Delays in vehicle registration now run into several months. Despite a surge in private vehicle imports, the bureaucracy has ground to a resounding halt. Vehicle owners face “blatant delays” in registration that extend for several months, leaving them in a bureaucratic and legal limbo.

The situation is worsened by the government’s decision to halt the private-sector issuance of number plates, centralising it into a system that is currently a “total mess.” Tens of thousands of vehicles are forced to ply the roads displaying only engine and chassis numbers, a temporary measure born of necessity. Yet for all that, and totally against even a minuscule iota of any consideration, the Police Department seems to have missed the memo and become a set of hungry predators. Officers wait in ambush, charging these owners with hefty fines for being on the road without official number plates; plates that the state itself has failed to provide. It is an avaricious cycle, where the state fails to register your car or motorcycle, and then the state’s law enforcement arm punishes you for that very failure. Rather than focusing on the blatantly reckless bus drivers or the lawless Tuk-Tuks, Police Officers wait in ensnarement to pounce on these “unregistered” vehicles. Even when owners produce documents proving the delay lies entirely with the RMV, they are charged and fined. The message is clear: the citizen must pay for the government’s failure.

The Prohibitive Cost of Mobility

Overseeing all of this is the crushing weight of fuel prices. The government continues to raise the cost of petrol and diesel with scant regard for the downstream consequences. These so-called “cost-reflective” adjustments may look good on a balance sheet in Washington or at the International Monetary Fund, but on the ground in Colombo and Kandy, they are prohibitive. Every hike in fuel prices triggers a “ripple effect” that raises the price of bread, vegetables, and, of course, the very transport that people use to get to work to pay for those goods.

Finally, a Nation at a Standstill

The transport crisis is not just a logistical problem; it is a moral one of utter social degradation. It reflects on a government that has abandoned its primary duty: to provide the infrastructure for a functioning society. We are living on a “glorious isle” where the beauty of the landscape is now obscured by the soot of a broken bus and the stress of an uncertain commute. Going from Point A to Point B has become a major travail of unbelievable misery.

Overseeing this chaos is a government that views the fuel pump as an Automated Teller Machine (ATM). The cost of all fuel types, from petrol to the diesel that powers the nation’s mobility has reached “absolutely prohibitive” levels. With scant regard for the domino effect on the cost of living, the authorities and the powers-that-be continue to raise prices, fuelling a major catastrophe of economic inflation.

For the average Sri Lankan, the “travail of unbelievable misery” is now constant. We are a nation on the move, but we are moving towards a cliff from which we are likely to fall into an abyss of no return. Until the transport sector is stripped of its political “protectors” and returned to the service of the people, this “Resplendent Isle” will remain a beautiful prison for those trying to get from Point A to Point B.

If the current administration continues to protect the infamous “mafias”, ignore the decay of the rails, and profit from the administrative chaos of the RMV, and totally fail to get their act together, they are not failing just the transport sector; they are in fact failing the very heart of the nation for sure. Our Motherland, Sri Lanka, deserves a whole lot better than a state of an ever-present and unending transit catastrophe. All the rhetoric about a rich country and a beautiful life that was promulgated in the not-too-distant past remains only as unbelievable wishful thinking.

By an Aficionado

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Opinion

Why do many Sri Lankan students become school dropouts?

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Education is widely recognised as the foundation of a country’s development. In Sri Lanka, free education has provided generations of children with the opportunity to attend school regardless of their economic background. Despite these advantages, many students still leave school before completing their education. School dropout is a significant social issue because it affects not only the lives of young people but also the country’s economic and social progress. Understanding the reasons behind school dropout is essential for finding effective solutions.

One of the main reasons students leave school is financial hardship. Although education in Sri Lanka is free, families still have to spend money on uniforms, stationery, transportation, private tuition, and other school-related expenses. For low-income families, these costs can be difficult to manage. Some students are forced to work to support their families instead of continuing their education. In rural areas especially, children may help with farming, fishing, or family businesses, reducing the time and motivation they have for school.

Another important factor is academic pressure. Sri Lanka’s education system is highly competitive, especially because of major examinations such as the Grade Five Scholarship Examination, the G.C.E. Ordinary Level, and the G.C.E. Advanced Level. Many students feel stressed by the heavy workload and the pressure to achieve high marks. Those who struggle academically may lose confidence and believe they have little chance of success. As a result, some choose to leave school rather than continue facing disappointment and failure.

Family problems also contribute significantly to school dropout rates. Children who experience divorce, domestic violence, alcoholism, or the loss of a parent often face emotional and financial difficulties. Some students become responsible for caring for younger siblings or elderly family members. Without proper support, balancing family responsibilities with education becomes extremely challenging. In such situations, education may become a lower priority.

Another reason is the lack of interest in traditional classroom learning. Every student has different talents and learning styles. However, the education system often focuses mainly on academic achievement rather than practical or vocational skills. Students who are gifted in sports, arts, technology, or technical work may not feel motivated in a classroom that emphasises examinations and textbook learning. Without opportunities to develop their unique abilities, some students become bored and eventually stop attending school.

Bullying and mental health issues are also important causes of school dropout. Some students experience bullying because of their appearance, disability, ethnicity, language, or family background. Others suffer from anxiety, depression, or low self-esteem but do not receive the counseling they need. When students feel unsafe or unwelcome at school, they may begin missing classes and eventually leave school altogether. Schools that lack proper counseling services may struggle to identify and support these vulnerable students.

In some parts of Sri Lanka, long travel distances and transportation difficulties discourage students from attending school regularly. Rural students often travel several kilometers every day, sometimes on foot or using unreliable public transport. During the rainy season, flooded roads and poor infrastructure make travel even more difficult. Frequent absenteeism caused by transportation challenges may eventually lead students to drop out.

For some girls, early marriage and teenage pregnancy become barriers to continuing education. Although these cases are less common than in some other countries, they still affect certain communities. Young mothers often find it difficult to balance childcare with school responsibilities. Social stigma and limited support can further reduce their chances of returning to education.

The COVID-19 pandemic also increased the number of students at risk of dropping out. During school closures, many families lacked internet access, smartphones, computers, or stable electricity for online learning. Students from disadvantaged backgrounds fell behind in their studies, and some never returned to school after classes resumed. The pandemic highlighted inequalities in access to education across the country.

The consequences of school dropout are serious. Students who leave school early often have fewer employment opportunities and may earn lower incomes throughout their lives. They are more likely to experience poverty, unemployment, and social exclusion. School dropout can also contribute to higher crime rates, child labor, and poor health outcomes. For the country, losing educated young people means a less skilled workforce and slower national development.

Several solutions can help reduce school dropout rates in Sri Lanka. The government can strengthen financial assistance for low-income families through scholarships, school meal programmes, and transportation support. Schools should provide counseling services to address mental health concerns and prevent bullying. Teachers can receive training to identify students who are at risk of dropping out and provide timely support. Expanding vocational education and technical training would also give students more opportunities to pursue careers that match their interests and abilities. Finally, parents, schools, communities, and government agencies should work together to encourage regular school attendance and create a supportive learning environment.

In conclusion, school dropout is a complex issue caused by economic difficulties, academic pressure, family problems, mental health challenges, transportation issues, and limited educational opportunities. Although Sri Lanka has made remarkable progress in providing free education, ensuring that every child completes their schooling requires continued effort from all sectors of society. By addressing the root causes of school dropout and supporting vulnerable students, Sri Lanka can build a more educated, skilled, and prosperous future for the next generation.

Saumya Aloysius

saumyaaloysius@gmail.com

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