Features
People I met and places I have seen
(Excerpted from Selected Journalism by HAJ Hulugalle)
Just as I had concluded a memorable six weeks’ tour of the United Kingdom and north-western Europe, and was looking forward to a brief space of unregulated life, I received a summons from my lively colleague, the Editor of the “Ceylon Observer”, to send him some impressions.
These could easily fill a book, but I had not thought that an unconsidered narrative, of persons met and places seen, would interest a sophisticated public brought up on the “Observer’s” famous Sunday morning essays.
I have discovered that it always pays to answer an editorial summons. One of the leading Press lords of Fleet Street, whom I met recently, asked me to do twelve hundred words of my impressions of our first fortnight in London for a provincial newspaper. I sent the article in and left for the Continent. On my return I found a fat cheque which will enable me to return to Paris at the end of the month to attend the Peace Conference. On the present occasion, however, I have no mercenary intentions at all.
Of course, it was not my fault, or my merit, which put me among famous men and enabled me to visit historic places during the past few weeks. I just happened to be the delegate from Ceylon to the Sixth Imperial Press Conference, and it seems to me that the Press is respected, and rightly so, in all civilized countries.
If I were chronicling events merely with an eye to publicity, I should enlarge on the two hours the delegates spent at Buckingham Palace with the King and Queen and Princess Margaret Rose; lunch with Mr. Churchill at Hever Castle in Kent; a talk with Mrs. Attlee at the British Government’s reception; travels with the Chairman of “The Times” by train, coach and aeroplane; talks with German Communist leaders in Berlin; a walk round the room in the Luxembourg Palace in Paris, in which the Big Four had met an hour earlier (one of the party even sat in Molotov’s chair, and another left a note for “Ernie” Bevan); civic receptions at half a dozen provincial capitals and a dinner at the Mansion House; and several private dinner parties to meet important and interesting people.
Of especial interest to a seasoned journalist was the opportunity to meet and talk to some of the most eminent men in the profession. I had the good fortune to meet Viscount Kemsley, owner of about twenty national and provincial papers. Both he and Lady Kemsley are keenly interested in helping the Empire countries.
Lord Beaverbrook told me that he would very much like to spend a holiday in Ceylon. I sought the views of Sir Walter Layton, Chairman of the News Chronicle and a leading economist, of the coming depression in the United States. Mr. Barrington-Ward, the Editor of The Times, gave us in conversation, his views on the Labour Government. He is a most attractive personality.
They have a fine team on “The Times.” I met Mr. Alan Pitt Robbins, the burly News Editor of “The Times” nearly every day during the month of June. Mr. Dermot Morrah works for The Times and the “Round Table” and was often present at the Conference. Two other charming personalities I came across were Mr. Ward Price and Mr. H.V. Hodson. Mr. Ward Price, a famous journalist for over 25 years and now a Director of the Daily Mail group, retains his youth remarkably. Mr. Hodson is the complete intellectual, but he has a big say in the production of the Sunday Times and the “Round Table.” There was also Sir Roderick Jones, a former Chairman of Reuters, both at the Conference and on our special train. The list can be continued, but it would interest only the journalist.
Among the delegates, whether from the United Kingdom or the overseas countries, there was a spirit of fellowship which will lead to many enduring friendships. One of the pleasantest incidents of the tour happened on the scene of the famous battle of Marston Moor. We were returning from the North and our train was drawn to a siding at this village not far from Leeds for the night.
After dinner, on a long summer’s evening, several of the party alighted from the train and walked across the meadow, looking either for the battlefield or the local public house. After two miles of walking the “pub” was discovered – a 100 yards from the train! In it we spent one of our merriest evenings. An excellent pianist was found among the New Zealand delegates, and all the old songs and many new ones were sung. The “pub” was kept by an ex-soldier and his young wife, and many of the local inhabitants joined the party. The beer was good and plentiful, and Marston Moor has now a new association for most of us.
Taking out my diary to refresh my memory of crowded experiences, I note that our first official function was a dinner given by Colonel the Hon. J. J. Astor, President of the Empire Press Union, and Lady Violet Astor at their house in Carlton Terrace. Colonel Astor is the proprietor of “The Times” but he has even greater claim to distinction. He is a man of fine character and great charm. Whenever he made a speech he said the right thing infallibly, though with an engaging modesty. His son, Captain Gavin Astor, has a high sense of public duty like his parents. I recall a pleasant walk with Lady Violet Astor through the meadows of Hever Castle after a visit to the dairy farm with its fine herd of Guernseys.
Our last official function was a Lucullan dinner in Paris. In between these two feasts, we saw much of England, Scotland, France, Belgium, Holland and Germany – our planes and motor coaches in Europe carried the label “from Normandy to the Baltic.” The charms of these countries are not identical.
In England, Hever Castle, Colonel Astor’s country house, in which Henry the Eighth courted Anne Boleyn, and Stratford-on-Avon stand out in our experience; in Scotland, Edinburgh and Alloway, the birth-place of Robert Burns. Germany, despite the unspeakable devastation of the war, was surprisingly beautiful. It is hard to understand why the Germans possessing such a lovely country, should have coveted the territory of their neighbours and brought a curse on themselves.
My impressions of France are fresh. It was only yesterday that I looked out of my hotel window and saw the gilded dome over Napoleon’s tomb and the Eiffel Tower. I was visiting Paris after an interval of 16 years. It has hardly changed. The old Trocadero has been replaced by an attractive structure which enhances the vista down to the Eiffel Tower and the “Hotel des Invalides.”
The French Government gave the delegates a mixture of business and pleasure. The three days we spent in Paris were each followed by three nights; at the ballet, the Folies Bergiere and a dinner at the Moulin Galette on Montmarte. The dinner was perfectly Parisian, the champagne superb; the speech of our host, the Minister of Information, charming; the women beautifully dressed; the cabaret good bodyline bowling. We could see a large part of Paris below us as we dined. It was July 14, the National Day of France, and there was dancing in the streets throughout the night.
But to go back. After a month in England and Scotland the delegates left for the Normandy beaches in the company of some of the men who directed operations on D-Day. We had one of the most brilliant men in the British Army, Brigadier Belchen, chief of Montgomery’s brains-trust, to explain the operations with the help of large-scale maps.
Berlin is of course one vast ruin. Eighty per cent of this once great city is utterly destroyed. One can walk miles of its wide streets, passing nothing but rubble and twisted iron. Sometimes an undamaged clock stands in a shattered building with the hands registering the time at which the bomb was dropped and put its machinery out of action. The macabre scene is indescribable. Trams rumble noisily through empty and desolate streets. Families live in the cellars of their destroyed houses or six in a room where the houses still stand. There are hardly any young men to be seen in Germany. We saw them, prisoners of war, in every other country we visited, digging up mines or repairing damage. The elderly folk are dejected and obviously undernourished.
Many girls seem to be seeking a living in the streets. There are no motor-cars except those used by the occupation authorities. There is nothing in the shop windows, except heirlooms, often of considerable value, and postage stamps. Every adult carries a bag in his or her hand to pick up any food that could be had. At weekends, Berliners would travel 50 miles to get a few pounds of potatoes in the country.
All cigarette stubs thrown on the streets by visitors or Allied troops are greedily pounced upon by the Germans. Dried leaves and twigs are sold for tea, and coffee is still ersatz. Beer is flat and insipid. One enterprising Canadian bought the best pair of binoculars I have handled (made by Carl Zeiss) for one hundred cigarettes, two cakes of soap and two sticks of chocolate.
German opera is still first rate. We saw a fine performance of Von Floutow’s “Martha.” One of the staff of the Opera House walked with me to the hotel. I could not take him in, and we went into a cafe where we drank some insipid beer. He is a young lawyer about to start a practice. He said, “God! What wouldn’t I give for a piece of cake!”
Yes, the German’s are paying for their misdeeds. To clear the rubble of a city like Berlin would take years. To rebuild it would not be a practical task. The same goes for many other cities and towns. The work of hundreds of years has been destroyed in as many hours. In Cologne only the Cathedral remains among the public buildings, superficially intact. Part of Hamburg is still extraordinarily beautiful but the other part is a shambles. The people of North Germany are handsome and manage to look clean and cheerful on very little.
The countryside is gracious. The harvest is promising. The oxen are of enormous size. The fruit trees were laden with apples, pears, plums and peaches not quite ready for picking. We drove about 200 miles by road from Strasbourg to Baden-Baden and on to Freiburg where there is an ancient University. The old houses with their barns and medieval roofs were a delight.
The British Control in Germany is enlightened, humane and efficient. Marshal of the Air, Sir Sholto Douglas, the Commander-in – Chief, spoke to us of his problems in an “off the record” talk. British policy aims at helping Germany to organize herself as a democratic country, deprived of the means of aggressive action but not denied the opportunity of developing as a peaceful nation. The Occupying Powers do not always agree on this, but a great work is being done by the British who spend 80 million pounds sterling a year to keep the Germans from starvation.
No one would venture to say how long the occupation will go on but the lowest estimate is 10 years. A tremendous responsibility is placed on Major-General Bishop who supervises the Press, education and amusements of the German people. There is no Press censorship in the British Zone. One of the snags of the British control is the helplessness of the Germans when they have to decide something. If someone else decides for them, the Germans carry out the decision without a murmur. That is their weakness and their strength, and accounts for Hitler and for German resiliency.
Yes, I can’t leave Hitler out of this story. We went through the battered Chancellory as the Russians were stripping the walls of the marble panelling. The delegates helped themselves to sizeable bits for souvenirs. At the end of the garden is the famous underground shelter in which Hitler lived and worked during the heavy bombing of Berlin. There is a mound near the door where his body was brought up from below and soaked in petrol before it was burned. The bodies of Eva Braun, his wife, and Goebbels where burned near by.
The underground shelter has about a dozen rooms including Hitler’s study, bed-room and sitting-room. Eva Braun’s bed-room, Goebbels’ room, kitchen, bath-rooms and dining room and one or two other rooms. The furniture has not been removed although it is in bad condition. I got a bit of Hitler’s (or was it Goebbels?) wireless set when the Russian guard was not looking. Perhaps he would not have cared. A Canadian delegate made a deal with one of the Russian guards for three of Hitler’s invitation cards printed sumptuously in gold. The fact of Hitler’s suicide is not doubted by the British officers who were earliest on the scene.
An abiding memory of our trip is the very high level of culture and intelligence among the officers responsible for the British Control in Germany. One was always meeting people who had served in Ceylon or passed through the Island. They invariably retained the pleasantest memories of Ceylon, and wished her well. Admiral Pennant who was responsible for the first landings in Normandy told me at dinner that he served in Kandy for some time with SEAC and was delighted with the place.
At Hamburg I had the good fortune to sit at dinner between the heads of the land and naval forces, respectively, in the Hamburg area. They had both been in Ceylon and loved the country. Air Commodore Desoer, who accompanied us throughout the European tour said the same thing. At the Berlin Hotel I stayed in, I met a young officer who had been stationed at Kurunegala, my hometown. Ceylon has a good name and many friends among those who have visited it during the war.
(First published in 1946)
Features
Combining local resources,traditional knowledge and science to build a food-secure Sri Lanka
World Food Day 2026: Innovating today for a better food future
by Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
What will be on the Sri Lankan dinner table ten years from now? Will our children be able to get nutritious food at a price their families can afford? Will farmers be able to grow enough despite changing weather and rising costs? And how much of the food we produce will actually reach the consumer, instead of being lost or wasted along the way?
These questions can’t wait. A farmer faces unpredictable weather. A family faces rising food costs. Fruit goes unsold after a good harvest. Some children do not get enough nutrition. The future of food is tied to the future of Sri Lanka itself.
World Food Day 2026 is a chance to look beyond the immediate problems and ask whether we can build a food system that feeds our people well, gives farmers better opportunities, protects the environment and makes better use of what we already have. The answer can be yes, but we will have to think differently.
We are not starting from zero. Sri Lanka has diverse crops, fisheries, traditional food knowledge, indigenous varieties, research institutions, universities and a young generation able to create new solutions. What we need is to bring these together and act. Producing more will not secure our food future on its own. It will depend on how intelligently we produce, process, preserve, distribute and consume food.
Making more of what we already have
Innovation does not always mean inventing something new. Often it means finding better uses for the resources we have.
Sri Lanka grows traditional rice varieties, kurakkan, green gram, cowpea, jackfruit, breadfruit, cassava, sweet potato, coconut and palmyrah. All of them have great potential for modern, nutritious, value-added foods. Jackfruit and breadfruit can be made into flour and other convenient products. Traditional rice varieties can go into new foods that suit changing consumer needs. Palmyrah, with its strong cultural heritage, can create new income through better processing, packaging, quality assurance and market development.
The aim is to connect our traditional food knowledge with modern consumer needs and technology, while keeping our food heritage.
Stop wasting the food we produce
Reducing food loss and waste should be a major priority. Seasonal fruits such as mango, banana, papaya and pineapple can be lost in large quantities when production exceeds demand or when storage, transport and processing facilities are inadequate. With suitable technology, these fruits can become dried products, pulps, powders, beverages and other shelf-stable foods.
Agricultural and fisheries by-products are resources too. They could be turned into food ingredients, animal feed, bio-based products and other useful materials, which would move us toward a more circular food economy.
Technology alone is not enough. We need stronger local processing facilities, cold storage, efficient transport, collection centres and market information systems, especially close to where food is produced. Cutting food loss raises the value of what our farmers and fishers already produce.
Nutrition and food safety come first
Food security means more than having enough food. People also need food that is safe and nutritious.
Sri Lanka can develop affordable, nutritious foods from local pulses, grains, vegetables, fruits and fish. Children and other vulnerable groups should get particular attention. Schoolchildren in particular deserve a focus: safe, nutritious, locally sourced products for school feeding programs would support child nutrition, local farmers and domestic food industries at the same time.
Food safety must stay at the centre of food innovation. Good hygiene, quality control, laboratory testing, traceability and appropriate food safety systems are what make new products safe as well as attractive and nutritious.
A food system that can cope with climate change
Climate change is already affecting agricultural production, water availability, crop yields and food prices. We need food systems that can handle changing conditions. That means climate-resilient crops, efficient water use, soil and water conservation, better storage and resource-efficient food processing.
Traditional knowledge matters here. Generations of Sri Lankan farmers have developed practices suited to local climates and ecosystems. Combining that experience with modern science can give us solutions that fit local conditions and are sustainable. Technology alone will not build the future of food. Science, experience and local knowledge together can.
Give young people a bigger role
Sri Lanka’s universities have an important part to play in shaping our food future. Young people should be encouraged to identify real problems in the food system and work on practical solutions in areas such as food waste, sustainable packaging, nutrition, food safety, modernising traditional foods and digital technologies.
A good research project should not always end as a research paper. Where appropriate, research should be supported to move on to products, technologies, enterprises and community solutions. That needs stronger partnerships between universities and industry, along with mentoring, research funding, business support and market connections. If young researchers and entrepreneurs can turn their ideas into viable food innovations, both consumers and producers will benefit.
A pathway designed for Sri Lanka
We do not need to copy food-system models from other countries. We can build a pathway that suits our own resources, culture and needs. It would bring together local resources, traditional knowledge, scientific research, appropriate technology and entrepreneurship, with farmers, fishers, universities, research institutions, food industries, entrepreneurs and policymakers working side by side.
The goal goes beyond selling raw materials. We need to create more value, reduce waste, improve nutrition, generate jobs and strengthen rural livelihoods. This matters especially for small and medium-scale food enterprises, which can drive local economic development when they get the right technical, financial and market support.
The choices we make today
The food future will not create itself. It will be shaped by what we grow, what we research, what we process, what we consume and what we choose not to waste.
So, the question for World Food Day 2026 is this: what can we do today so that every Sri Lankan has safe, nutritious, affordable and sustainable food tomorrow?
The answers are already around us, in our farms, fisheries, food businesses, universities, laboratories and communities. We have the resources, the traditional knowledge, the scientific expertise and talented young people. What we need now is to connect them and act.
A better food future begins with the choices we make today.
Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
Senior Lecturer, Department of Biosystems Technology, Faculty of Technology, University of Ruhuna
Features
20th Anniversary of Digampathana blast – the day Sri Lanka Navy cried
By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defence Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan
The Digampathana suicide truck attack on 16th October 2006 remains the deadliest single strike in Sri Lanka Navy history, leaving scars that time cannot erase.
It was a seemingly ordinary Monday morning on 16 October 2006, but the calm of that day would soon be shattered in a way none of us could have imagined. As the Commandant of the Naval and Maritime Academy and Flag Officer Commanding Naval Fleet at Trincomalee, I was aware that a number of my cadets were travelling that morning, part of a convoy of fifteen buses carrying naval personnel from Trincomalee, Colombo, and other bases, heading toward Dambulla to rendezvous with another group. The convoy also included trucks and escort vehicles, a routine movement planned and coordinated with the army to ensure the roads were clear. The morning started quietly. Some personnel greeted friends, handed over their weapons, or strolled to a nearby tea shop. It all seemed so ordinary—too ordinary for what would come next.

Sri Lanka Navy sunk LTTE Ships carrying arms, ammunition and warlike materials thousand miles away from Sri Lanka in Indian Ocean in September and October 2007.
By late morning, both convoys had reached the small ground at Digampathana, near the Sigiriya junction, and personnel mingled briefly, unaware that a carefully orchestrated act of terror was waiting. Then, suddenly, an empty half-truck veered directly into the convoy. It exploded with a ferocity I can still recall as if it were yesterday. Nuts, bolts, and high explosives tore through the air. Pandemonium erupted instantly. I later learned that 107 of our naval personnel were killed on the spot and another 153 critically injured. The scene was indescribable—bodies scattered, vehicles mangled, personal effects strewn across the ground. I remember later hearing that the head of the suicide bomber was recovered more than 100 meters away from the blast, a grim testament to the sheer force of the explosion.
I was in my office at the Naval and Maritime Academy when my mobile phone rang. A young midshipman from the 21st intake called, his voice trembling: “Sir, there was a huge explosion at the convoy point! Many are dead … my batch mate Wijesundara is among them.” I immediately jumped into my jeep with my escort Chief Petty Officer and driver and rushed to Digampathana, relying on every ounce of my driving skill to reach the scene. The journey, which usually took little more than an hour, felt endless that day, each passing mile weighed down by dread.
When I arrived, I was confronted with a sight that no training can prepare you for. The injured were being rushed to Dambulla Hospital, where doctors and nurses worked tirelessly, improvising in ways that saved lives despite the overwhelming chaos. I went back to the site after visiting the hospital. The remains of our naval personnel were scattered across the ground, and someone had begun collecting weapons and protective gear. I immediately contacted Surgeon Rear Admiral Nico Jayasekara and received his instructions: collect all body parts in separate bags and transport them to the Trincomalee Naval Hospital mortuary. This gruesome work had to be done with care and dignity, and it filled the icebox in my vehicle. Through DNA testing initiated by Rear Admiral Nico, we were able to identify every naval personnel lost that day, bringing some closure to grieving families.
The Navy Commander at the time, Vice Admiral Wasantha Karannagoda, was devastated. I had worked closely with him and knew how deeply he cared for his men. He ensured that the fallen were honoured with full ceremonial naval funerals at Welisara Naval Base, attended by families and comrades. Sixty-seven funerals were conducted in a single day—a number that still haunts me.
The Digampathana attack remains the largest single loss of naval life in our history. It was a day of sorrow, but also a day that reinforced our resolve. The tragedy galvanized the Navy to target the LTTE Sea Tiger wing with renewed determination and reshaped our maritime operations forever. Every time I think of that day, I remember not just the lives lost, but the courage, professionalism, and dedication of those who survived, those who treated the injured, and those who ensured the fallen were honored properly. May the souls of our naval hero’s rest in peace, their sacrifice guiding us and inspiring generations of naval personnel to come.
Features
‘Murder at Whitby Abbey’
Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 24
I was intrigued by the title of a book I found in a book drop at the condominium of a friend, Murder at Whitby Abbey, and I brought it home with me though I will not be able to return it in the near future. It was described on the cover page as ‘a standout in the crowded medieval mystery field’, though I fear I do not know of other books in this field, apart from the Cadfael series, which I have dealt with earlier.
The book, by Cassandra Clark, is set during the reign of Richard II and has as a backdrop his precarious position, which led to his being replaced, and murdered, by his cousin Henry, who reigned as Henry IV. It is a gloomy book, the action taking place in the twelve days of Christmas leading up to the Epiphany. And the gloom is pervasive, even though this is supposed to be a time of festivity, with mummers performing, and many of those in the guest house where the heroine stays going to town to enjoy themselves, with much drinking and much music, which also fills the guesthouse.
The heroine Hildegarde is a nun, sent to try to acquire a relic being sold by Whitby Abbey, though this was also a penance set by the Abbot of the monastery that governed her abbess because she had had sex with a man. Soon after she and her companions reach the Abbey set high on a cliff, she finds that there are other bidders, and soon suspects that the hierarchy, not perhaps the Abbot who seems a weakling, but his rapacious bursar, is determined to make money, and not above creating false relics to sell to several aspirants.
After Hildegarde and her Cistercian companions – Whitby is a Benedictine Foundation – two monks, Gregory and Egbert, and a young priest Mark, reach the abbey, they find that Aelwyn, a monk they had met on their way to the guesthouse had died. This was in the apple store, and they realize, when they find the surplices of novices stuffed into the air vents, that he had been left to suffocate in the overwhelming scent of apples.
The Cistercians are asked to look into the death, perhaps because they are likely to get no cooperation from the Abbey folk, but perhaps because those in charge are keen to know what happened. And the infirmarer, an old monk, suggests Hildegarde talk to a man called Edred who worked for the bursar, and had been a friend of Aelwyn’s. But Edred too is killed, before he can keep an appointment he had made with Hildegarde, drowned in a pool near the farmhouse of the Abbey.
Meanwhile tensions arise between the fisherfolk and the abbey for the bursar wants to charge them for using the beach that technically belongs to the abbey to dry their fish and their nets. This leads to physical battles, when the guards used by the abbey, under the command it seems of the bursar whose determination to make money is not resisted by the abbot and the prior, try to storm the area where the fishermen live.
Hildegard finds out more about what had happened through two youngsters, one of whom Torold is the son of Aelwyn by a woman who worked as a prostitute for a cartel, and with whom Mark fell in love. The other works on the farm and had seen Edred meet someone near the pool, after which that someone left the place by himself. And the boy had also found in the pool a sort of dagger with the seal of the abbey.
He and his dog, and Torold who follows her, rescue Hildegarde from a man at arms who has waylaid her and tries to rape her earlier. Escaping into the abbey she was nearly been raped then by the bursar, but she managed to escape, in the process setting fire to him and the muniments room, which led, when he was rescued, to the discovery of a box with the money he said had been stolen, blame being cast on both Aelwyn and Edred.
Matters come to a head when the fisherfolk try to storm the abbey, being resisted by the men at arms stationed on the towers. But then Hildegarde realizes that behind the murders was the bursar’s clerk, whom she pursued to the cathedral. There is great drama then as she escapes from him when he tries to kill her, and then from the man at arms who had tried to both rape and kill her, but they both fall from the scaffolding she had climbed, the latter coming from a tower where he had been stationed.
Both of them think they run the rapacity of the abbey, the latter claiming to work for the nobles opposed to Richard, who is presented throughout the book as devoted to his subjects, not to power or money. But though the villains die, the bursar continues, having got over the hysteria the fire had caused and his acknowledgment then of guilt – and though the abbot and the prior seem less vicious, whether they will be able to assert themselves is questionable.
Before the climax, when the others in the guesthouse were leaving, Hildegarde found that two of them were in possession of the relic, for which they seem to have paid well. Hildegarde herself had made a derisory offer, but before she leaves the abbot gives her the relic, perhaps in gratitude for what she and her fellow Cistercians had discovered, the abbey having made as much money as it needed and more from the gullible other buyers.
Mark’s inamorata is saved from the stews because she moves in with Edred’s widow whom the bursar had thrown out of the rooms he occupied when her husband was found dead. Hildegarde had paid for lodgings, in a house run by the man who ran the brothels, but he had a kindly side and was going to finance them to make nets for the fishermen.
So, the Cistercians set off for their home as swiftly as they can to get there on the day of the Epiphany, having stopped en route to pray for King Richard whose birthday it was.
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