Crime and Punishment are perennial, vexed, debatable matters that can aptly be applied to the current controversy on the appropriateness of corporal punishment by schoolteachers.

Much publicity has recently been generated by an alleged corporal punishment by a teacher in Royal College. In the midst of all this, we must also consider the ripple effect such public scrutiny may have on other teachers. Many might now hesitate to correct or discipline a student out of fear of being misunderstood or publicly shamed.

A possible likely outcome is that a growing number of teachers may simply choose to limit themselves to merely textbook teaching – doing only what is required of them and nothing more. But if most teachers take a step back, fearing a backlash, what happens to discipline? What happens to the values, the life lessons and the personal growth that come from being held accountable? We risk creating a system where young students grow up without boundaries, without guidance, and ultimately, without the character that true education is meant to build.

The Royal matter

Much has been said over the recent incident involving a teacher at Royal College, which has now gone viral on social media. This is now in the hands of the Child Protection Authority, and naturally, emotions are running high.

Let me start by saying categorically that I do not condone violence or abuse in any form. If a student has been harmed—physically or emotionally—there is a legal process in place, and it must take its course, fairly and justly, without bias.

However, I write not to justify wrong, but to offer some perspective—especially to those who may not know the culture and values that shaped generations of Royalists before them.

I’m not an academic, nor a brilliant thinker. What I am is someone who learned life’s greatest lessons on the playing fields of Royal. Discipline, resilience, respect—these were not just words; they were lived experiences, often taught the hard way.

During my time at Royal Primary (from 1945 to 1950), corporal punishment was the norm. We were mischievous, as young boys often are, and the cane was a regular visitor. I, like many others, was caned more times than I can count. We didn’t run home to complain. In fact, the one time I told my mother, I received two additional slaps from her! That was the thinking back then—it taught us to take responsibility for our actions.

Let me be clear: I’m not saying things must remain the same. Times have changed and so have the boundaries of what is acceptable. What I’m questioning is the way we are responding as if one or two incidents can define the entire teaching profession at Royal.

There are nearly 500 teachers at Royal College now. Most are committed educators who give their best every single day. Why must we paint them all with the same brush because of the actions of a few?

We seem to be caught between two extremes: we complain about student indiscipline—hooting, bullying, misbehaving—but then we condemn every teacher who takes a strong stand on discipline. We can’t have it both ways.

Yes, Royal too has its share of “rotten apples.” So does every great institution in the world. But let us not forget the thousands of students who have been shaped by the silent, committed service of teachers who never sought recognition or fame.

I’ve personally experienced forms of punishment that, by today’s standards, would be considered extreme. Yet, those moments, though harsh, taught me resilience. They instilled in me the values that made Royal College the respected institution it is today.

I urge you all not to excuse wrongdoing—but to look at this situation in perspective. Let justice take its course but let us not allow a single incident to overshadow the legacy of an entire institution or profession.

Let’s respond with fairness, wisdom, and above all, respect—for our students, our teachers, and the Royal values we stand for.

Lorenz Pereira by email

WV, RWP& Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc (Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras), Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defense Staff, Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd, Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation, Former High Commissioner to Pakistan

Today, is 20 April 2025 the Easter Sunday. Six years ago on Easter Sunday 2019. SLCG Ship Suraksha, a 100 meter long Offshore Patrol Vessel (OPV), was getting ready for a 14-days Patrol. Her tanks were topped up with fuel, all victuals (required for 10 officers and 100 men crew for 14 days) loaded. Both cold and cool rooms were full with fresh fish/meat and vegetables. Ship was ready to sail at 12 noon on 21st April 2019.

A young lieutenant on board, who took over his new appointment as assistant logistic Officer a few days back, was working hard. It was a new appointment, new ship, new friends and new crew, for him. He was keen to impress them with his work. A call came from home around 7AM from his mother to say they are on their way to the village Church in Kochchikade, Negombo.

He was the second son of a devoted Catholic family.

He thought of one thing. I am going miss Easter Sunday Mass. He suddenly got an idea and quickly went up to the Commanding Officer’s cabin. He gently tapped on the door.”Yes” the Commanding Officer replied. “The door is open”. His Commanding Officer was a decorated former Naval Special Forces Captain. He had served with the Sri Lanka Coast Guard on a two year tenure as Commanding Officer of OPVs. The young Lieutenant requested the Commanding Officer’s permission to go to Church. Even though the Commanding Officer was a veteran decorated Naval Officer with a career of bravery and valour, he was very understanding.

After all, his young subordinate was requesting to go to church on Easter Sunday, an important holy day for Christians. He knew his junior was a Catholic. He himself also was a devoted Catholic and had attended midnight Easter Mass. He gave permission to the young officer to go to Church and also said a few words which he regrets today. “Sugath, the closest Church to us is St Anthony’s Church Kochikade here. It was customary for many Naval personnel, whether they are Catholics or not, to light a candle in this church when they get their new seagoing appointment. We turn our ships towards church before leaving Colombo harbour to get the blessings of St Anthony. Because as you are very well aware, St Anthony is the Saint who looks after seafarers like us. So, please go Son. Take the ship’s vehicle. Come back by 11. We are sailing at 12.”

The young Lieutenant quickly changed into his best civilian clothes and went to church. He was thinking of lighting a candle, praying and returning to the ship in the same vehicle. The time was 0830. He heard the announcement that the Tamil mass starts at 0840. The Church was full of devotees. Families with their children dressed in best Sunday dresses. They were happy, chatting to each other and eagerly waiting for Mass to start. Our young Lieutenant spoke and understood Tamil very well. So, he changed his mind. His CO had told him to come back by 11. There was enough time for him to attend the Tamil Mass. He told the Navy driver to go back. He told the driver “I will attend Mass and come back to the ship. I can get a three-wheeler. It’s not that far from here to the Naval Base”.

The Tamil Mass started at 0840 sharp. The suicide bomber walked into the Church at 0845 and detonated himself.

With the deafening sound the Naval Base by the Church was activated. News started to spread after the blast inside the Church. The CO of the SLCG ship Suraksha knew his subordinate was in church. He rang on his mobile while rushing to the scene. The young lieutenant’s Mobile was ringing, but no answer. Ship’s crew look out for their officer whilst helping casualties. CO rang the mobile of his subordinate officer again. This time someone answered! A female voice! She introduced herself as a nurse in Accident Ward of General Hospital Colombo. She said in a faint voice, “Sir, he is dead!”

The CO sat on the road curb with tears in his eyes. He was a battle-hardened Naval Special Forces man. He had seen enough deaths and grief in his life, but this loss hit him hard. He kept saying “my son! Why did I allow you to go to Church.”

Lieutenant (S) Sugath Nadeeshan Silva was born in Kochikade, Negombo on 23rd November 1991, the second son in the family. He had an elder and a younger brother. He had his early education at Thoppuwa St Philip Neri Sinhala Mixed School, Kochchikade and Mari Stella College, Negombo. He proved to be a brilliant student, excelling in studies and sports.

He joined Sir John Kotelawala University as an Officer Cadet on 17th September 2012.

Sugath excelled in cricket. He earned his Bachelor’s degree in Logistics Management in 2016 from KDU and successfully completed the Sub Lieutenant Logistics course at Naval and Maritime Academy, Trincomalee. He joined SLCG ship Suraksha as his first sea appointment when his untimely demise occurred caused by a terrorist attack. He was promoted posthumously to Lieutenant Commander and buried with full military honours. May he Rest in Peace!

At the going down and in the morning, we will remember him. Please remember him in your prayers.

By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne

Five years ago today, the Sri Lankan squash fraternity bid farewell to one of its most dedicated and influential figures — Lakdasa Cooray.

Hailing from Moratuwa, Cooray entered the national squash scene representing Sri Lanka Army Squash in the early 1980s, not long after the establishment of the Sri Lanka Squash Federation. Being a former Defence Services Champion and Masters Player and talented all-round sportsman, he possessed a natural aptitude for coaching, which soon became his lifelong passion. Remarkably, many of the top squash players in the country rose through the ranks under his expert guidance, often provided without any remuneration.

Over a career that spanned more than three decades, Cooray served as Head Coach for numerous national teams on international tours. His reputation extended beyond Sri Lanka, earning him recognition across the Asian squash community.

He also contributed significantly to the development of the sport at the grassroots level. As a member of the Executive Committee of the Sri Lanka Squash Federation, he worked tirelessly to promote squash in schools, clubs and outstation regions throughout the country.

Beyond coaching, Cooray was a respected referee, known for his fearless decision-making that often silenced even the most vocal critics, be they passionate spectators or competitive players.

His influence extended to inspiring players from the tri-services to take up coaching themselves, many of whom have proven their calibre at the highest levels of the sport.

In his later years, his active role in the squash community somewhat diminished, especially following the tragic passing of his only son, skilled squash player Kavinda Cooray. Despite his declining health, his legacy endured.

Today, the squash community in Sri Lanka remembers Lakdasa Cooray not just as a coach or official, but as a true servant of the game: a man who gave his all and asked for nothing in return. A legend, never to be forgotten.Rear Admiral Palitha Weerasinghe (Rtd)