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Rituals in a village community at Paiyagala 75 years ago

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St. Joseph church in Paiyagala

by Jayantha Perera

St. Joseph church in Paiyagala has a beautiful façade and a belfry. Its nave is broad, with stunning floor designs. A magnificent painting of the creation of the universe covers the vault. Two short rows of colonnades support the two aisles, broadening the space in the nave. A short, narrow gravel road connects the church compound with Colombo-Matara road, and the church’s backyard is only about 200 yards from the Colombo-Matara railway line and the beach. The feast of St. Joseph is the main annual event in Paiyagala.

In the late 1950s, the Church Committee discussed with the Italian parish priest, who ruled the catholic community, the desirability of celebrating the church’s feast on May 1, Labour Day. Several parishioners opined that celebrating the feast on Labour Day might drag the church into national politics. Some others worried that parishioners might go to Colombo to celebrate Labour Day instead of the church feast. A few threatened to become parishioners of Kuda Paiyagala church, which was only half a kilometre from St. Joseph’s. In his Sunday sermon, the parish priest advised the ‘rebels’ not to harm the village solidarity. Ultimately, the warring parties buried their hatchets and aligned with the Committee’s decision to celebrate the church feast on May 1.

In 1962, Nihal, my brother, and I reached Paiyagala ten days before the day of church feast. At the Kalutara main bus stand, we bought two packets of inguru dosi (ginger fudge) for Aachcho (maternal grandmother) as Amma (my mother) instructed. We met Aachcho at the bus stand. She was in a long-sleeved white embroidered jacket and a floral cloth. She wore no slippers. Her graying hair added more charm to her face. She kissed and took us to the dining table, where she kept our favourite walithalapa (steamed rice pudding) and a bunch of kolikuttu bananas. She told us that we should spend time with her at the church and explained the importance of ‘confession’ before the vespers (evening prayers on the eve of the church feast).

Aachcho had arranged with a coconut toddy tapper to deliver a large bowl of mee raa (unfermented toddy) to her daily. She added crushed black pepper, sliced red onions, and green chillie to the toddy bowl. One hour later, she gave us a glass of mildly fermented toddy. She treated toddy as a medicinal tonic for children which kills harmful worms and improves appetite.

The Church Committee painted the church walls, polished the wooden pews and the floral floor, and repaired the church roof, expecting the monsoon rains. It collected donations from catholic families in the parish and discussed with them how to decorate the sorole (procession) path of the statue of St Joseph. Those who had colorful banners washed them a week before the feast and tied them to poles across roads. The Committee hoisted a flagstaff with many bright flag lines in front of the church. The parish priest blessed the flagstaff, and nuns from a nearby convent distributed sweetmeat to the participants.

The Church Committee invited about 25 women to the church compound on the eve of the church feast to cook rice and fish for the grand almsgiving on the following day. The Committee got cooking utensils from the convent. Local businessmen donated rice, thunapaha (spices), cooking oil, firewood, and small brown paper bags. One fisherman donated a large Maduwa (stingray) fish. Several women cleaned and cut the fish into large pieces. Another group of women prepared fresh thunapaha for the fish curry while young women washed and de-stoned the rice.

A woman who was known for her culinary prowess supervised the cooking gangs. She directed several young girls to mix spices, tamarind paste, and salt in large clay pot. She also checked the heaps of fish pieces and decided how many pots were needed to cook them. Then, she studied the spice mixture – color and taste – before pouring it into each fish pot in different proportions. She controlled the heat of the firewood under each pot by pulling out or adding pieces of firewood. (Many years before, Aachcho’s mother supervised the cooking of fish and rice at the church compound. She had never tasted the mixture of thunapaha before adding it to fish pots, Aachcho declared proudly.)

The cooking of rice had its own rituals. The supervisor recited a short prayer that ended with “Jesus, Mary, Joseph” before putting a handful of destoned and washed rice into each large cooking pots. After that the girls filled the pots with rice and water as the supervisor directed. Before the rice was cooked, a handful of rice was thrown out with water from each rice pot. The thrown rice was the food for hobgoblins and other harmless spirits hovering around in the cooking space. Devotees considered them as community members who celebrate the feast.

The parishioners worried that the monsoons might spoil the feast. When dark clouds appeared on the horizon, the parish priest brought the statue of St Joseph from its glass box on the top of the altar to a temporary altar next to the cooking station. With the statue overlooking the cooking area, women did their work without worrying about the weather.

While women cooked food, vendors descended on the gravel road with goodies. They sold sweetmeat, toys, laminated pictures of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, plastic balls and bats, prayer books, and rosaries. On the eve of the feast, Aachcho broke her clay coin jug, counted the money and bought toys for her grandsons. She bought me a small toy boat. The vendor poured water into a basin and filled the tiny detachable capsule in the boat with paraffin. The boat moved on the water when he lit the wicker connected to the capsule.

The ice cream man was the most popular person among the vendors. Young boys and girls lined up to buy popsicles, each costing five cents. A woman sold Buundi aluwa (halva) claiming that the aluwa was from the Maldives Islands. The Achchar (pickle) woman had a profitable business and sold a small packet of veralu achchar (wild olive pickle) for three cents.

Before the vespers, Aachcho took Nihal and me to a nearby well, pulled several buckets of water, and bathed us. She had a special soap for the occasion. It was an expensive, imported cake of Goya soap. Afterwards, she dressed us in clean clothes. Just before we went to the church, thaththa (my father) and Amma with two younger brothers arrived.

Vespers were at eight in the evening and a musical show preceded it. A band played popular English and Sinhala songs and hymns. The chief of the band played a piano accordion while dancing. Once he fell off the stage creating chaos and cutting off the nearby noisy generator’s power supply. It took about ten minutes to restore electricity.

At a corner of the church compound, two fishermen auctioned fish. They invited the school principal to bid first. After bidding he put five-rupee note to a tin box. Afterwards, each bidder put one rupee into the box. The last bidder took the fish home, and the fishermen donated the money to the church.

Although liquor and smoking were not allowed in church premises, a few men gathered after sunset behind the church to consume alcohol. The priest and the Church Committee knew what was going on behind the church, but did not intervene. Thaththa explained that the vespers night was for all parishioners—sinners and saints— to enjoy life.

When the church bells rang at 8 pm, the band took a break. Through loudspeakers, the sacristan announced that vespers would start soon. Ten priests who had come to help the parish priest conduct vespers entered the church in procession from the church front door. The parish priest followed them with the statue of St Joseph collected from the open-air altar and re-installed it on the church altar. Devotees occupied pews, and some waited in the church compound. The highlight of the service was the twin sermon delivered by two priests on family values and the lessons to be learned from St. Joseph.

Soon after the vespers, devotees remained in the churchyard to watch fireworks. The parish priest blessed heaps of fireworks. Two men pushed the crowd away from the firework station. Chakra (revolving crackers) appeared first, shooting stars, flower blasts, and rockets followed. A rocket rose as high as 60 meters or more before blasting into different floral designs. Onlookers compared the quality of fireworks with that of the previous year. Someone whispered to thaththa that the Committee might have pocketed a part of parishioners’ donations.

Aachcho threw a sumptuous dinner for the family. Fried pork, chicken curry, deviled prawns, dhal curry, papadam and several vegetable curries were on the table. Thaththa and Amma did not join the children and spent time in the verandah (foyer) of the house talking with friends and enjoying drinks. Women, too, drank liquor with their menfolk.

Soon after dinner, Aachcho lowered the chicken pen that was hanging from two ropes tied to two coconut trees in the compound. There were three chickens in the pen. A visitor killed the chickens, and Aachcho cooked the meat for the following day’s lunch. She was lucky to save her chicken from thieves. During the church feast and the Christmas, local thieves had the habit of stealing chickens and pigs to raise money to buy liquor and to gamble.

Aachcho decided on our sleeping arrangements. The only bed at Aachcho’s house, where Nihal and I had slept for eight days, was given to Thaththa and Amma. Aachcho spread several mats on the sitting room floor. She got a few hard pillows from a cupboard. Nihal told us ghost stories and warned us that at midnight, a ghost in white might visit us. We demanded Amma to sleep with us on the floor, and she did. We liked the smell of the floor – a mix of cow dung and clay. We competed with each other to sleep next to Amma. I liked her body smell mixed with talcum powder and sweat.

Aachcho and Amma knelt down and prayed with their rosaries for 15 minutes. Then Aachcho prayed to St Joseph to protect us from committing maraneeya papa (mortal sins) that night. She and Amma recited this prayer three times. I wondered what mortal sins they could commit during that night. I was not brave enough to question Aachcho or Amma about mortal sins. Still, it bothered me for several years, until I talked to my spiritual mentor – a Jesuit priest, at school, who told me that some sins, if not pardoned by a priest at a confession, could condemn the sinner to eternal hell after his death.

Overnight fasting was mandatory to receive the Eucharist in the morning. We all got up early on the feast day to attend church. We had to go out in the darkness to wash our faces. Aachcho kept water in two large clay pots. There was no flushing toilet. A small shed covered with cadjan leaves had two flat stones to squat on. A toilet user had to take water in a small container. When the toilet was not in use, pigs visited it and cleaned it up in a few seconds!

On the feast day, everyone, including children, had breakfast after the sorole. Aachcho laid the breakfast table before going to the church. She prepared a great variety of food: milk rice, kavum (oil cake), athiraha, kokis, bibikkan, fish curry, and several bunches of kolikuttu.

Church bells reminded us that we were in the middle of the church feast. When we went to the church, several women had already begun a prayer session led by the church sacristan. He with his soft voice led women in a full rosary and several hymns and prayers. Amma had told me that the sacristan had been interested in marrying her and had, in fact, sent a marriage proposal through his aunt. But my granduncle refused the request because he was unemployed.

After the prayers, Amma took me to the sacristan and introduced me to him. She was shy and did not look at his face. He, too, hesitated for a few seconds before talking to me. He wore an expensive collarless cream-coloured jacket with a light tweed cloth and a thick silver belt. He sported a ponytail, and his face was well-shaven, except for the moustache, which made him look majestic.

A visiting priest delivered a boring sermon that lasted about 30 minutes. Humidity inside the church became unbearable. Many men started conversations without listening to the sermon. Although women suffered more (with veils over their heads) than men, they bore the unpleasantness as good devotees. The feast service took about 90 minutes.

Brown paper bags with rice and fish were already laid on several tables in the church compound to distribute. Those who lined up to join the sorole got food parcels from the parish priest. People who got the food bags shared rice and fish with family members and friends. I got a mouthful of rice and a piece of fish from thaththa. I thought the food was stale, but I did not complain because such food was considered sacred.

Church bells rang again, informing the scouts of the sorole to get ready. They were dressed like ancient Portuguese soldiers, in colored costumes with large round headgear. They carried banners with emblems of various church associations. The parish priest brought the statue of St Joseph to the churchyard again. A carriage decorated with garlands, flower bouquets, and veils awaited the statute. Ten men were poised to pull it around the village. The priest installed the statue in the small casket on the carriage. He blessed it, collected the burning incense bowl from an altar boy, and offered scented fumes to the statue and the carriage.

The bandmaster and his group led the sorole. The procession stopped at each wayside altar in neighbourhoods, where small groups of residents waited for the sorole to pass and got a close glimpse of St Joseph’s statue. In some localities, residents lit firecrackers. Most devotees who were in the sorole dropped out of it, when it passed their homes. Those who could not attend the church in the morning, joined the sorole at various locations.

The traffic on the main road built up rapidly, and the police had to control vehicle movement. The church choir sang hymns non-stop, and loud loudspeakers broadcast them. After moving about one mile on the main road, the sorole turned to a by-road and went to the beach, where several fishermen garlanded the statue and lit firecrackers.

When the procession passed the fishermen’s huts, two middle-aged women began to sing and dance while cooking. They wore floral gowns and danced around a large pork pot on fire in front of their houses. The pork curry looked very dark but smelt fabulous. Several old women sang kaffirhinna (Portuguese songs). A woman started dancing around the pot of pork while holding the hem of her long gown in one hand and a large spoon in the other.

The procession returned to the church after passing fishermen’s huts on the beach. Soon after breakfast, thaththa served liquor, and from the kitchen, the children brought bites (snacks) for visitors. Nihal, Gamini, and I ate deviled pork, eggs slices, and cashew nuts as much as we could hold before serving the adults. Men’s voices got louder. Often, they argued on silly topics and got worked up in proportion to the arrack they had consumed.

Thaththa told Nihal to sing a song and Gamini (younger brother) to deliver a sermon or demonstrate how to play ‘China footing’ – a martial art form. I recited the poem that he had taught me – The Ice Cream Man. Lunch was served at three in the afternoon, and only a few visitors had waited for it. Aachcho was unhappy that only a few stayed. Those who had lunch left around 4pm, thanking Aachcho for her generosity and tasty food. She was happy, especially when Nihal declared that her food was delicious. We all clapped, and Aachcho could not hold back her laughter, and kissed Nihal.



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The Paradox of Coercion: US strategy and the global re-emergence of Iran

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Iranians vowing resistance at a mass funeral of the victims of US-Israeli airstrikes

(A sequel to the two-part article, War with Iran and unravelling of the global order, published in The Island on April 8 and 9.)

The unfolding developments in the US-Israeli coordinated military attack against Iran reveal a striking paradox at contemporary geopolitics: efforts to weaken a state through coercion may, under certain conditions, contribute to its structural elevation within the international system. What appears as short-term tactical success can generate long-term strategic consequences that are neither anticipated nor easily reversible. In this context, the policies associated with Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu, marked by unilateralism and the willingness to use force, risk producing precisely such an unintended outcome. Rather than marginalising Iran, their actions may be accelerating its re-emergence, not merely as a regional actor in the Middle East, but as a consequential player in the global geopolitics and the wider architecture of international supply chains of energy economy.

Iran not merely a state

Iran is not merely a state, but a civilisation with a distinctive political trajectory. At the heart of the present transformation lies its asymmetric strategy, rooted in the strategic exploitation of geography. Few states possess the capacity to shape the global system through geography alone. Iran’s proximity to the Strait of Hormuz, a narrow maritime passage through which a substantial share of the world’s oil and liquefied natural gas flows, endows it with a latent structural power that transcends conventional measures of national capability.

In periods of stability, this position translates into economic opportunity; in moments of crisis, it becomes a lever of systemic disruption. Recent tensions have demonstrated that even limited instability in this corridor can reverberate across global markets, triggering sharp increases in energy prices, disrupting supply chains, and amplifying inflationary pressures worldwide. Should Iran consolidate its capacity to influence or control this chokepoint, whether through military deterrence, asymmetric instruments, or diplomatic maneuvering, it would shift from being a participant in global energy markets to a pivotal arbiter of their functioning.

Energy-embedded global economy

The contemporary global economy is not merely energy-dependent; it is deeply energy-embedded. Hydrocarbons underpin not only transportation and electricity generation but also the production of petrochemicals, fertilisers, and a wide range of industrial inputs essential to modern manufacturing and food systems. Disruptions linked to Iran have already illustrated how shocks in the energy sector cascade through interconnected supply chains, affecting everything from agricultural output to high-technology industries. In this sense, Iran’s leverage is no longer confined to the traditional realm of resource geopolitics. It increasingly operates within a networked global system in which control over a single critical node can generate disproportionate influence across multiple sectors. This form of power, diffuse, indirect, and systemic, marks a departure from the more linear dynamics of twentieth-century oil politics.

The implications of such a shift are profound for the structure of the international order. For decades, the global system has been underpinned by a set of institutions, norms, and economic arrangements often described as the so-called liberal international order. Sanctions, financial controls, and diplomatic isolation have been key instruments through which dominant powers have sought to discipline states that challenge this order. However, Iran’s prolonged exposure to sanctions has compelled it to develop adaptive strategies: alternative trade networks, informal financial channels, and closer ties with non-Western partners. A crisis-induced re-entry into global markets would therefore not signify reintegration into the existing order, but rather the expansion of parallel systems that operate alongside, and sometimes in opposition to, it. In this context, Iran’s rise would contribute to the gradual fragmentation of the global economy, accelerating trends toward decoupling, regionalization, and the erosion of established institutional authority.

Decline of global order based on US hegemony

This process of fragmentation is closely linked to declining global order based on U.S. hegemony. A more globally consequential Iran would inevitably become a focal point in the strategic player in emerging multipolar world. For China, whose economic growth remains heavily dependent on secure energy supplies, deeper engagement with Iran would serve both economic and geopolitical objectives, reinforcing its presence in the broader Middle East and insulating it from vulnerabilities associated with maritime chokepoints. Russia, already positioned as a major energy exporter and a challenger to Western dominance, may find in Iran a complementary partner in reshaping global energy markets and contesting sanctions regimes. Meanwhile, countries across the Global South, including major importers such as India, would face a more complex strategic environment, characterized by heightened exposure to supply disruptions and increased pressure to navigate between competing power centers. In this emerging landscape, Iran would function less as an isolated actor and more as a pivotal node within a reconfigured network of global alignments.

Dynamics enhancing Iran’s strategic importance

Paradoxically, the very dynamics that enhance Iran’s strategic importance may also accelerate efforts to reduce dependence on the conditions that enable its influence. Recurrent energy shocks tend to catalyze policy responses aimed at diversification and resilience. States are likely to expand strategic reserves, invest in alternative supply routes, and accelerate transitions toward renewable energy and nuclear power. Over the longer term, such measures could diminish the centrality of fossil fuel chokepoints, thereby constraining Iran’s leverage. However, this transition will be uneven and contested. Advanced economies may possess the resources to adapt more rapidly, while developing countries remain structurally dependent on affordable hydrocarbons. In the interim, the global system may experience a prolonged period in which dependence on Iranian-linked energy flows coexists with attempts to transcend it—a duality that adds further complexity to the evolving geopolitical landscape.

Beyond material considerations, Iran’s potential re-emergence also signals a deeper transformation of the existing global order. Traditional metrics—military strength, economic size, technological capacity—remain somewhat important, but they are increasingly complemented by the ability to influence critical nodes within global networks. The capacity to disrupt, delay, or redirect flows of energy, goods, and capital can generate strategic effects that rival, or even surpass, those achieved through direct military confrontation. In this sense, Iran exemplifies a broader shift from territorial geopolitics to what might be termed network geopolitics. Control over chokepoints, supply chains, and infrastructural linkages become a central determinant of influence, enabling states with relatively limited ‘conventional’ capabilities to exert outsized impact on the international system.

Iran’s trajectory may be understood as a transition through several distinct phases: from a regional challenger seeking to assert influence within the Middle East, to a strategic disruptor capable of unsettling global markets, and ultimately to a systemic actor whose decisions carry worldwide consequences. This evolution is neither inevitable nor linear; it depends on a complex interplay of domestic resilience, external pressures, and the responses of other global actors. Nevertheless, the possibility itself underscores the unintended consequences of policies that prioritize short-term coercion over long-term strategic foresight.

Transition shaped by paradoxes

In historical perspective, moments of systemic transition are often shaped by such paradoxes. Actions taken to preserve an existing order can, under certain conditions, accelerate its transformation. The current crisis involving Iran may represent one such moment. By elevating the strategic significance of energy chokepoints, exposing the vulnerabilities of interconnected supply chains, and encouraging the development of alternative economic networks, it contributes to a broader reconfiguration of global power. In this emerging context, Iran’s re-emergence as a global actor would not simply reflect its own capabilities or ambitions; it would also embody the structural shifts reshaping the international system itself. What began as an effort to constrain Iran may ultimately facilitate its transformation into a decisive player in the global energy economy and supply chain architecture. The implications of this shift extend far beyond the Middle East, touching upon the stability of markets, the cohesion of international institutions, and the evolving nature of power in the twenty-first century.

The war with Iran is best understood not as a discrete regional conflict, but as a structural moment in the transformation of the international system. It reveals a growing disjuncture between the continued reliance on coercive statecraft and the realities of an interdependent global order in which power increasingly derives from control over critical economic and infrastructural nodes. Rather than achieving strategic containment, the conflict has underscored the capacity of a relatively constrained actor to generate systemic effects through geoeconomic leverage. In doing so, it highlights a broader shift from military-centric conceptions of power toward forms of influence embedded in networks of energy, trade, and supply chains.

This is not merely a redistribution of power, but a redefinition of how power operates. At the systemic level, the war accelerates the erosion of the post-Cold War order, reinforcing tendencies toward fragmentation, parallel economic arrangements, and multipolar competition. Iran’s potential re-emergence as a global actor should therefore be seen less as an isolated outcome than as a manifestation of these deeper structural changes. In this sense, the strategic significance of the war lies in its unintended consequences: it exposes the limits of coercive hegemony while simultaneously amplifying the importance of those actors positioned to exploit the vulnerabilities of an interconnected world.

by Gamini Keerawella ✍️

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The dawn of smart help for little ones

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How Artificial Intelligence is breaking barriers in Autism Diagnosis and Care

For any parent, the early years are a most valuable countdown of “firsts” of his or her precious child: the first step, the first clear word, the first beautiful smile, and quite a few other firsts as well. Yet for all that, for some families, that joy is overshadowed by a growing, quiet, but disturbing intuition that something is even a little bit different. Perhaps a child is not responding to his or her name, or the little one seems to be more interested in the spinning wheels of a toy than a game of peek-a-boo, or even avoids normal social responses.

In many countries, especially in the developing world, the road from that first “gut feeling” that there is something wrong, to a formal diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) is often a long and exhausting journey. While doctors can often identify autism in children as young as 12 to 18 months, the average age of diagnosis in our communities still hovers around four years. In these critical years, when a child’s brain is most like a machine ready to learn and adapt, time is of the essence and is the most valuable resource a family has.

Today, a new “algorithmic dawn” is offering a shortcut to really cut that delay. Artificial Intelligence (AI), the very same smart technology that helps us navigate traffic, suggest a new song, or help people with ChatGPT, is moving out of the lab and into the children’s nursery. By acting as a digital “magnifying glass”, specifically designed AI tools can now spot subtle patterns in a child’s gaze, some little quirks in the rhythm of their babbling, or the way they move, often much faster than the human eye can. Then the machine can issue a warning signal and indicate that further action and a proper evaluation are necessary. This is most certainly not about replacing the brain, the heart and the expertise of a paediatrician; it is about providing “Smart Help” that can be accessed from a smartphone in a family living room. For millions of “little ones on the spectrum”, most notably in the developing world, this technology is turning a journey once defined by waiting, uncertainty and even tears, into one of proactive care and even brighter horizons. The time gained is most certainly a very valuable window of opportunity.

What is the “Spectrum,” and Why Does Time Matter?

Autism is described as a “spectrum” because it affects many children somewhat differently and to varying degrees. Some children may have advanced technical skills but struggle to hold a conversation; others may be non-verbal or have intense sensory sensitivities. It can be very mild or very severe, and perhaps everywhere in between as well.

The common thread is that the brain develops differently in these affected children. This is why Early Intervention is the gold-standard goal. During the toddler years, a child’s brain is incredibly “plastic”, meaning that it is a highly adaptable and ready to learn type of organ. Starting therapy and management strategies during this valuable period of opportunity can fundamentally change a child’s future life path.

The problem, to a certain extent, is that traditional diagnosis of ASD is a slow, manual process. It requires intensively trained experts to watch a child play for hours and fill out complex checklists. In many countries, including Sri Lanka, where there is a massive shortage of these highly qualified specialists, the waiting list for a consultation alone can take months or even years. These doyens are rather thin on the ground and even when available, are heavily overworked.

Enter the AI Revolution: Seeing the Unseen

AI certainly does NOT replace doctors, but it acts like a high-powered magnifying glass. By using “Machine Learning”, computers can analyse massive amounts of data to find tiny patterns that the human eye might miss. Here is how it is changing the game:

1. Tracking Gaze and Smiles

One of the earliest signs of autism is how a child looks at the world. AI “Computer Vision” can analyse a simple video of a child playing. It can track exactly where the child is looking. Does the child look at a person’s eyes when they speak, or are they drawn to the spinning wheels of a toy in the corner? AI can quantify these “social attention” patterns in seconds and add them to a cache of things that ring warning bells.

2. The Sound of a Voice

Did you know that the “music” of a child’s speech can hold clues? AI can listen to the pitch and rhythm (called prosody) of a child’s voice. Children on the spectrum sometimes have a “flat” or monotonic way of speaking. AI algorithms can measure these vocal biomarkers with incredible precision, helping to flag concerns long before a child is old enough for a full conversation.

3. Movement and Play

Repetitive behaviour, like hand-flapping or rocking, are core traits of ASD. Sensors in smartphones or simple video analysis can now categorise these movements objectively. Instead of a parent trying to describe how often a behaviour happens, the application or ‘app’ provides a clear, data-driven report for the doctor.

Innovation at Home: India’s Digital Solutions

The most exciting part of this technology is that it does not require a million-dollar lab. In India, where smartphone use is booming, several “homegrown” apps are bringing specialist-level screening to rural and urban homes alike.

Apps like CogniAble, which give parents a step-by-step intervention plan based on the child’s specific needs, or START, a tablet-based tool used by local health workers in areas like Delhi slums to spot risks via simple games, or LEEZA.APP, which offers free AI screening to remove the “money barrier” that keeps many families from seeking help, or AutismBASICS, which provides thousands of activities and a milestone tracker to help parents manage daily therapy at home, are just a few of the programs in use at present. These tools are “democratising” healthcare. A mother in a remote village with a basic smartphone can now access the same level of screening logic that was once only available in a major city hospital.

Beyond the Diagnosis: A Robot Tutor?

The role of AI does not stop once a diagnosis is made. It is also becoming a tireless “co-therapist.”

For many children with autism, the human world can be unpredictable and overwhelming. AI-powered “Social Robots” or interactive apps provide a safe, predictable environment. These “Robo-Therapists” do not get tired, they do not get frustrated, and they can repeat a social lesson even 100 times until the child feels comfortable.

Furthermore, for children who are nonverbal, AI-powered communication apps serve as a “voice”. These apps use smart technology to predict what a child wants to say, allowing and facilitating them to express their needs and feelings to their parents, even for the very first time.

The Human Element: Proceed with Care

As bright as this dawn is, experts warn that we must move forward carefully and most intelligently.

= Privacy: Because these apps collect sensitive videos and data about children, keeping that information secure is a top priority.

= Cultural Differences: An AI trained on children in the US or Europe might not perfectly understand a child in Sri Lanka. We need “diverse local data” to ensure the algorithms understand our local languages, gestures, and social norms. Many of these programs need to be home-grown or baked at home in Sri Lanka.

= The Human Touch: Most importantly, we need to always remember that AI is a tool, not a replacement. A computer can spot a pattern, but it cannot give a hug, provide emotional support to a struggling parent, or celebrate a breakthrough with the same joy as a human therapist.

A Brighter Future

We are moving toward a world where “waiting and seeing” is no longer, and quite definitely, not the only option for parents. By combining the heart of a parent and the expertise of a doctor with the speed of an algorithm, we can ensure that no child is left behind because of where they live or how much money they have.

The “Algorithmic Dawn” is not just about code and data. It is about giving every child the best possible start in life. It is the main principle on which Hippocrates, the Father of Medicine, all those centuries ago, based all his postulations on how physicians should work.

 The “Red Flag” Checklist: 18 to 24 Months

The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends screening all children at 18 and 24 months. If you notice several of these signs, it is time to use an AI screening app or consult your paediatrician.

Communication and Social Cues

= The Name Test: Does your child consistently fail to turn around or look at you when you call his or her name?

= The Pointing Test: By 18 months, most toddlers point at things they want (like a biscuit) or things they find interesting (like a dog). Is your child using your hand as a “tool” to get things instead of pointing?

= The Eye Contact Test: Does your child avoid looking at your face during social interactions or during play or when being fed?

= The Shared Smile: Does your child rarely smile back when you smile at him or her?

Behaviour and Play

= The Toy Test: Does your child play with toys in “unusual” ways? (e.g., instead of rolling a car, they spend 20 minutes just spinning one wheel or lining them up in a perfect, rigid line).

= The Routine Rule: Do they have an extreme “meltdown” over tiny changes, like taking a different route to the park or using a different coloured cup?

= Repetitive Motions: Do you notice frequent hand-flapping, rocking, or spinning in circles, especially when they are excited or upset?

The “Golden Rule” of Regression

Finally, an extremely important rule for concerned parents to follow.

If your little one had words (like “Mama” or “Dada” or “Amma” or “Thaththa” or Thaii/Amma or Appa) or social skills (like waving “Bye-Bye”) and a beautiful social smile etc, and then SUDDENLY STOPS USING THEM, that could be a most significant red flag. In such situations, the standard advice would be: Please consult a doctor immediately.

by Dr B. J. C. Perera

MBBS(Cey), DCH(Cey), DCH(Eng), MD(Paediatrics),
MRCP(UK), FRCP(Edin), FRCP(Lond), FRCPCH(UK),
FSLCPaed, FCCP, Hony. FRCPCH(UK), Hony. FCGP(SL)
Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow,
Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka.

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Governance, growth and our regional moment:Why Sri Lanka must choose wisely

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The recent disclosure of a substantial internal fraud at National Development Bank has understandably unsettled the financial community. What began as a relatively contained incident has since been revised upwards, revealing a scheme that operated over an extended period within a specific operational area. To their credit, both the bank and the Central Bank of Sri Lanka responded with speed. Staff were suspended, arrests followed, an independent forensic review was commissioned, and clear assurances were given that customer funds remained secure. The institution’s capital and liquidity positions continue to meet regulatory requirements, and day to day operations have not been disrupted.

Yet it would be a mistake to view this as an isolated operational error at a single respected institution. When a fraud of this magnitude, equivalent to more than a year’s profit for the bank, emerges within one of our most established listed companies, the implications extend well beyond the banking sector. It prompts a necessary and uncomfortable question. Are we truly strengthening the foundations of our economy so that every part of our society can operate with the integrity and confidence that sustainable progress demands?

Banking sits at the heart of any modern economy. It channels savings into investment, supports enterprise, and underpins household security. When even a leading institution reveals weaknesses in internal controls, risk oversight or governance culture, the signal to international observers is difficult to ignore. It suggests that the financial system upon which growth depends may not yet possess the resilience we aspire to project. If institutions that have undergone significant reform since 2022 can still experience such failures, what assurance can investors reasonably expect in other sectors of our economy? At a time when Sri Lanka needs to demonstrate strength and reliability, perceptions of fragility carry a heavy cost.

This matters profoundly because a genuine window of opportunity is now opening. Geopolitical shifts in the Middle East and beyond are prompting global investors and entrepreneurs to seek stable, well governed destinations for capital and talent. Sri Lanka possesses distinct advantages. Our geographical position offers natural connectivity. We have invested in critical infrastructure, including two major ports, international airports and strategic energy reserves. In an era where businesses prioritise rule of law, institutional predictability and sound fundamentals, our potential alignment with these criteria is significant. However, high profile governance failures at this precise moment risk undermining that narrative before it can gain meaningful traction.

The stakes are equally significant for initiatives such as the Port City Colombo. With substantial projects now approved, foreign investment commitments secured and early construction underway, this endeavour is moving from concept to delivery. Yet persistent concerns about governance standards in our established companies can act as a drag on investor sentiment. The confidence required to attract high value international tenants and long- term capital depends not only on physical infrastructure but on the perceived strength of our institutions and the consistency of our regulatory environment.

For decades, Sri Lanka has experienced growth averaging around four to five per cent per year. While this is not insignificant, it falls short of our potential, particularly when measured against the progress of our regional neighbours. India, for example, has sustained growth at roughly twice our rate for more than twenty years, driven by consistent policy execution and strengthening institutional credibility. Our own trajectory has been held back not by a lack of ideas or ambition, but by recurring shortcomings in how our major institutions are governed and held to account. The result is a cycle of unrealised potential, where promising openings are not fully converted into lasting advancement.

The current situation, though challenging, can serve as a catalyst for meaningful change. Boards of listed companies must move beyond procedural compliance to foster a genuine culture of ethical leadership, proactive risk management and zero tolerance for control failures. Regulators have an opportunity to undertake a comprehensive review of fraud prevention frameworks, whistle-blower protections and monitoring standards across the financial sector, with lessons applied to other key industries. Greater transparency in reporting material incidents and more timely forensic follow through will help rebuild trust with both domestic and international stakeholders.

Crucially, the government must tread carefully as it responds. Short term fixes or reactive measures may address immediate concerns but will not deliver the enduring stability that investors seek. What is required is a coherent long-term strategy that balances the imperative for rapid economic development with the equally vital need to conserve our natural environment and strengthen regional cooperation. Our neighbours in South Asia and Southeast Asia offer not only markets for trade and investment but also partners in shared challenges such as climate resilience, sustainable infrastructure and digital connectivity. By deepening these relationships through practical collaboration, Sri Lanka can position itself as a reliable and forward-looking partner in a dynamic region.

Sri Lanka stands at a pivotal moment. Global realignments are creating rare opportunities for capital inflows, technology transfer and new economic partnerships. Yet these opportunities will flow most readily to nations that demonstrate they can protect investor interests, uphold the rule of law and operate with predictability and transparency. If we allow governance weaknesses in our flagship institutions to persist, we risk once again watching potential pass us by.

This is a defining moment, and our response must be equally purposeful. We can treat the recent events as an unfortunate but isolated incident and return to established patterns. Or we can seize this moment as a timely reminder to strengthen every pillar of our economy, with particular attention to environmental stewardship and regional collaboration. Only by getting our house in order, with patience, consistency and a clear-eyed commitment to long term goals, can we convert today’s challenges into tomorrow’s competitive advantage. The path to sustained prosperity demands nothing less.

by Professor Chanaka Jayawardhena
Professor of Marketing
University of Surrey
Chanaka.j@gmail.com

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