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Searching for Lakdasa

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A few weeks ago, when I wrote an article titled “Shakespeare in a takarang shed” about the English department at Kelaniya University in the 1970s, I mentioned of Lakdasa Wikkramasinha, the poet. Lakdasa did not teach in the English department – he was an instructor in the sub-department of English, which conducted English language courses for all the undergraduates – but he was very much a part of the scene. In the article, I recalled playing carrom with him at the Senior Common Room, and how we both escaped severe injury, perhaps death, from a mob that was coming to attack campus students.

In the article, I described Lakdasa as “a man of few words, with a disdainful stare that made lesser mortals uncomfortable, [wearing] his shirt halfway buttoned that displayed his hairy chest, the sleeves rolled up just below the elbow.” In other words, a bad ass.

To accompany that article, I needed a photo of Lakdasa. I Googled, only to be shocked by the images that popped up. The most prominent was his gravestone, streaked with a black stain that obscured some markings, and a photo of the Nigerian Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka, mislabeled Lakdasa. Other search engines also came up with the same images.

Surely, someone, somewhere should have Lakdasa’s photo. Thus, began my search. Lakdasa had been my senior at the Maharagama training college, so I reached out to his classmates for a photo. One, who said he had been the best man at Lakdasa’s wedding, did not have a photo. Another, a photography enthusiast, could not be contacted because of the lockdown. Two other classmates of Lakdasa did not respond to my messages.

I was told about Lakdasa’s sister, who had built a house on Heerassagala Road, Kandy, but my attempts to trace her petered out. A friend of a friend, who said that she may have a photo at her office, was also unavailable, due to the lockdown and a death in the family. Tracing Lakdasa’s genealogy, I contacted a second cousin of Lakdasa’s, without a response. An appeal to the head of an academic department, where Lakdasa’s wife had taught, has gone unanswered. That is understandable, because she last taught there 40 years ago, and my attempt was a desperate shot in the dark.

When I first knew Lakdasa at Maharagama, in 1970, he was known as “the poet”, although hardly anyone around him may have read his poetry, (I hadn’t). In those days, poetry meant Wordsworth, Blake, and Keats to us. Also, at that time, Lakdasa’s poetry hadn’t received much critical assessment, or much read for that matter, because his poems had been self-published in limited editions. He was courting his classmate Claire, and I would see them seated on the corridor leading to the library and chatting for long periods. Lakdasa’s collection titled, Fifteen Poems (1970) carried the dedication “For Claire”. But, they didn’t marry. By the time his next collection, Nossa Senhora dos Chingalas (1973), came out, the dedication was “To Shanthini”, who had become his wife. She taught Chinese at the University of Kelaniya.

Lakdasa’s stature as a poet hit me full in the face, so to speak, only in the early 1990s, when I read Michael Ondaatje’s Running in the Family, a rollicking memoir of Ondaatje’s Ceylonese lineage. Chapter 3 is titled “Don’t Talk to Me about Matisse”, and Lakdasa’s poem of the same title is quoted there. I was in the USA at the time, and could not access any of his poetry.

Some years later, in Hong Kong, I was introduced to the chairman of a university English department. When he realised I was Sri Lankan, Andy blurted out, “Did you know Lakdasa?”, and seemed to disbelieve when I said “Quite well”. Later, I realised that he, a British/Australian, was an ardent fan of Lakdasa’s poetry. When Andy published the volume World Englishes (2007), two of Lakdasa’s poems were included in the accompanying CD, read by Prof. Thiru Kandiah.

In personality, Lakdasa was eccentric. His philosophy was an enigma. In 1965, he stated that “to write in English is a form of cultural treason” and called English the language of the “most despicable and loathsome people on earth”. But, just four years later, he was training to become an English teacher, and went onto “commit treason” by teaching English at the University of Kelaniya.

His poetry has been called masculine, and anger, eroticism, sarcasm, and satire were clearly on display. His originality and daring can be seen in lines such as “thick black coils of hair on her head, and Elsewhere”; “the great white hunter Matisse with a gun with two nostrils … Gaugin – the syphilis-spreader, the yellowed obesity”. And satire in “What does the Professor do? He plants brinjals all day”. The soaring finale – “All roads lead to Rome!” – from “To My Friend Aldred” is matchless.

When he was being interviewed for admission to Maharagama training college, Lakdasa was asked what he had been doing in the past few years. He replied. “Growing cardamoms”. Indeed, he had, in the remote Yahanagala area in the Uva. Usually, to interpret Lakdasa’s poetry, one may have to delve into history, the Classics, Latin, Sinhala folklore. But, the appealing simplicity of “In Ancient Kotmale” perhaps derives from those cardamom growing days.

 

In the beautiful principality, in Kotmale

I will build my house of the good soil’s brick

With the timber of the ringing forests,

And I will cover it with the tiles flat,

One on one, as the palms of the farmers ….

 

And in the morning will I see

The sun wounded as my heart with a million arrows,

Rise between the mountain ranges

And spread in the green valley its golden blood.

 

And I will go into the fields in the seasons ….

I will sow the grain, a stream between my hands,

I will cast the grain in falling nets.

It will stream up round the calves of maidens

From the viridian fire of that clay.

 

And in the kilns of my sun-wed fields,

And under the haven of passing clouds

As I repose, in those almost everlasting days,

In the time ordained, in green calendars

Will come my yearned harvest

 

Over the years, Lakdasa’s poetry has drawn much analysis – in academic presentations, scholarly articles, an anthology here and there, theses, blog sites – and in the popular press. Some poems were also included in the English literature A/L syllabus. He has been acknowledged as one of Sri Lanka’s foremost poets writing in English. But, sadly, his poetry is scattered in various, little-known publications, and 43 years after his death, there is a possibility of his poetry receding into obscurity.

But, for now, we can focus on a more urgent matter, that of finding a photo of Lakdasa and placing it on the Internet. So, here’s my plea. If you have a photo, could you send it to me at georgebraine@gmail.com? I am also on Facebook. Thank you.

 

GEORGE BRAINE



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Opinion

Panadura debate: special exhibition most welcome

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The special exhibition displaying original manuscripts relating to the Panadura Debate at Rankoth Vihara is welcome and, as Nishantha Peiris mentions (News, 30 Aug), the debate gained international interest following the publication of a book containing the speeches made in the debate. The credit for this must be given to John Capper, the then editor of the Ceylon Times. He published an account of each day’s proceedings in his paper and the full text of the speeches in a book entitled ‘Full Account of the Buddhist Controversy Held at Pantura in August 1873.

The preface of the book stated: ‘In the belief that an authentic account of the Controversy which took place at Pantura in August last, between a Buddhist Priest and two Ministers of the Protestant religion, will be read with interest by a large number of persons here and in Europe. I have produced the proceedings in the present form. The report has been revised by the respective disputants, so that it may be taken as a correct account of what passed’.

Capper’s book was picked up by J M Peebles who was in India, who then published an extended version in the United States. If an original copy of Capper’s book is available in Sri Lanka, it should be exhibited in the Rankoth exhibition.

Yours faithfully,

Dr R P Fernando,

19 Danetree Close,
Epsom UK

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In Memory of Dr Upatissa Pethiyagoda

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Dr. Pethiyagoda

It is with a deep sense of sadness that I record the passing of Dr Upatissa Pethiyagoda, who died on 27 August 2026 at the age of 94. To many, he was a distinguished scientist, accomplished administrator, diplomat and public intellectual. To me, he was much more than that.

Dr Pethiyagoda was a proud product of Trinity College, Kandy. At a time when a first class in Botany was a rarity, he obtained one and subsequently pursued postgraduate studies in London. His scientific career reflected not only his knowledge but, more importantly, an enquiring and restless mind that was never satisfied with simply accepting what was known.

In the 1970s, he headed the Plant Physiology Department of the Tea Research Institute of Sri Lanka. He was part of a formidable team of scientists that included Drs R L de Silva, R L Wickramasinghe, P Sivapalan, Tilak Wettasinghe and W Danthanarayana. They were scientists who contributed enormously to the development of the tea industry in Sri Lanka, and Dr Pethiyagoda stood comfortably among them.

In 1978, he moved to the Coconut Research Institute as its Director. It was there that I had the privilege of working with him. Those years left a lasting impression on me.

Dr Pethiyagoda was, in every sense, a complete scientist. Although his formal specialisation was plant physiology, he was remarkably comfortable discussing almost anything scientific. What distinguished him was his curiosity. He questioned the science behind the ordinary things that most of us simply accepted. I remember his asking questions such as, why is an orange green in Sri Lanka? It was typical of him: an apparently simple observation would lead him to ask what lay behind it.

That curiosity never left him.

After his tenure at the CRI, he undertook an FAO assignment in the Middle East, working on the improvement of date palms. There he was exposed to agriculture under conditions of severe water scarcity. He pursued this further during a visit to Israel, learning about agronomic practices suited to such environments. Later, when he worked with the Mahaweli Authority, he was able to translate that knowledge into practice, introducing high-value horticultural crops to Systems B and C.

What impressed me was not merely that he acquired knowledge, but that he connected knowledge from one context to another and turned it into practical solutions. His enquiring mind and analytical ability enabled him to do this with remarkable effectiveness.

He was equally impressive as a communicator. Dr Pethiyagoda was an eloquent speaker, whether he was talking about science, agriculture, public policy or the everyday affairs of our country. His speeches were often laced with wit, humour and the occasional tongue-in-cheek remark. But beneath the humour was a very serious mind. He was forthright in his opinions and, importantly, he was not afraid to express them, whatever the possible repercussions.

His contributions to the media demonstrated this courage.

Writing about the travel to London by a former President, he observed:

“Where a person enjoys immunity by virtue of his position, this carries a reciprocal obligation to exercise an abundance of exemplary behaviour. In effect, immunity is best exercised, when the need to invoke it, is never allowed to arise.”

[Immunity Does Not Confer Impunity – Colombo Telegraph]

That was quintessential Pethiyagoda—precise, pointed and impossible to misunderstand.

He was equally outspoken about the government’s decision to ban inorganic fertiliser with ‘immediate effect’. He was deeply distressed by what he believed would be the consequences for farmers, particularly the poorer farming community. He would speak about it almost every day, driven not by political considerations but by his conviction that science and evidence had been disregarded.

In one of his writings on the subject, he remarked:

“What the ‘Vipathmaga’ caper taught us was that advice of sundry ‘Experts’ can be disastrous. Professors of Surgery, clergymen and Pediatricians are not the best equipped to advise on fertilisers, as much as a Soil Scientist should not prescribe treatment for a sick child.’ [Some Lessons That Can Be Learned Even From Disasters – Colombo Telegraph]

And in another article, his frustration was summed up in the memorable words:

“Stupidity, like History, has a way of repeating itself.”

[Unscrambling eggs – Colombo Telegraph]

These were not simply provocative statements. They reflected a scientist who believed deeply that public decisions, particularly those affecting agriculture and the livelihoods of farmers, should be based on evidence and sound scientific advice.

Perhaps, what I will remember most about Dr Pethiyagoda is that his curiosity survived almost to the very end of his life.

Very recently, he was still asking questions and pursuing ideas. He was interested in the possible genetic differences between the waraka and wela varieties of jak, because he wondered whether the wela variety might have commercial potential for cellulose extraction. He was disappointed that he could not find relevant scientific literature in Sri Lanka. More than the particular subject, what struck me was that at 94 he was still thinking about a scientific question, looking for evidence and wondering whether an apparently ordinary resource could have an important national application. He lamented the lack of interest among scientists and academics in such questions of national importance. That concern, too, was very much part of who he was.

Dr Pethiyagoda also served as President of the National Academy of Sciences, Sri Lanka. Unfortunately, he was unable to complete his term because he was appointed Ambassador to Italy, with representation at the Food and Agriculture Organization in Rome. Even in that role, he remained very much the scientist. I understand that he made a significant contribution to FAO discussions. As Ambassador, he also had the unenviable task of entertaining Sri Lankan Ministers of Agriculture who attended FAO sessions. I know from my own conversations with him that those informal dinners were not merely social occasions. He would discuss agricultural issues with the Ministers, and I have little doubt that his views—and the force with which he expressed them—sometimes influenced their thinking.

Looking back, what I admired most about Dr Pethiyagoda was not any particular position he held or any particular achievement. It was the way he thought.

He questioned.
He analysed.
He connected ideas.
He challenged conventional wisdom.
And he was willing to say what he believed to be true.

He also demonstrated that science should not remain confined to laboratories, research papers or academic institutions. For him, science was a way of looking at the world and, ultimately, a means of improving the lives of people.

It is perhaps ironic that, only a few months ago, he wrote about “The Cost of Dying”, as distinct from the “Cost of Living”. In that article, he reflected on the manner in which our mortal remains should be disposed of, observing: “I am in two minds regarding the manner in which the mortal remains are disposed of, ‘according to the will of the deceased’. But with the cessation of the breath, ownership or tenancy ceases.” Even in contemplating death, he brought his characteristic questioning mind to the subject. What particularly caught my attention, however, was his explanation of the Buddhist practice of holding dânes (almsgivings) for monks of the local temple in the seventh day and third month following a death. I had never really thought about the significance of this practice before. That, too, was typical of Dr Pethiyagoda: he could take something that we had accepted as ordinary and familiar and make us stop, think and see it differently.

His passing has created a colossal vacuum in Sri Lanka’s scientific community. People of his intellectual breadth, curiosity, courage and independence are rare. We may not always have agreed with everything he said, but we could never doubt that he had thought deeply about it and that he had the courage of his convictions.

For those of us who had the privilege of knowing him, there is sadness in his passing. But there is also gratitude—for having known such an extraordinary mind, for having learnt from him, and for having witnessed at close quarters his unwavering commitment to science and to the development of our country.

I shall remember Dr Pethiyagoda with great affection and immense respect.

Ranjith Mahindapala
Past President, National Academy of Sciences of Sri Lanka.

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A neighbour’s view of India’s strategic strengths

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What India chooses to do with the strategic freedom it has built over eight decades may be the defining question of its next phase

by Milinda Moragoda

In the emerging global economy, countries will increasingly seek multiple sources of energy, technology, capital, minerals and markets. India can contribute by helping create an open network rather than another exclusive bloc.

As India marks eight decades of Independence, its strategic position has changed almost beyond recognition. Yet the central question of strategic autonomy remains. What India chooses to do with the strategic freedom it has built over eight decades may be the defining question of its next phase.

India has spent the past decade expanding its strategic choices — deepening ties with the US, Europe and Japan while maintaining important ties with Russia and strengthening engagement with the Gulf, Africa and Southeast Asia. Australia and New Zealand are also becoming increasingly important partners in the wider Indo-Pacific. At the same time, India has sought a larger voice for the developing world in international institutions. Strategic autonomy has traditionally been understood in diplomatic terms: the ability to maintain freedom of action without being drawn into competing power blocs. In an increasingly interconnected world, however, that freedom will depend just as much on economic choices.

The objective should be strategic interdependence — building sufficiently diverse relationships that dependence on any one country or economic system does not become a vulnerability. India is unusually well placed to pursue this. Its geography connects the Gulf and wider West Asia, the manufacturing economies of Asia, Africa across the Indian Ocean and the Eurasian space extending through Russia. The opportunity, therefore, is to become a connector between economies increasingly fragmented by geopolitical competition.

India’s relationship with Japan is extending into advanced manufacturing, technology, energy, semiconductors and critical minerals. Its engagement with the US is deepening across technology, investment, advanced manufacturing, energy and strategic cooperation, while its engagement with Europe is becoming increasingly economic and technological. Its relationships with the Gulf are expanding beyond energy into investment and connectivity. Australia and New Zealand add an important southern dimension to its wider Indo-Pacific engagement, while Southeast Asia provides pathways into wider Asian production networks.

Russia remains an important part of this equation. India’s continuing engagement with Moscow, alongside its deepening relationships with Washington, Tokyo, Europe and the Gulf, demonstrates that strategic autonomy gives India the flexibility to maintain important relationships across geopolitical divides.

China inevitably occupies a special place in this landscape. India’s answer cannot be either excessive dependence or complete separation. It will require strengthening domestic capabilities, diversifying supply chains and building partnerships elsewhere, while retaining space for engagement where interests permit.

India possesses another asset that few countries can match: a large, globally active and influential diaspora. Yet the diaspora can also present challenges, as political currents within these communities do not always align with India’s interests and can occasionally create sensitivities in its relations with host countries. The greater opportunity lies in nurturing the economic, intellectual and cultural connections the diaspora can create, while respecting its diversity and independence. In the emerging global economy, countries will increasingly seek multiple sources of energy, technology, capital, minerals and markets. India can contribute by helping create an open network rather than another exclusive bloc.

Ports, shipping routes, energy corridors, digital infrastructure, supply chains and trade agreements increasingly shape strategic influence. India’s challenge is to bring these strands together without turning them into a closed sphere of influence.

India’s economic rise will be more sustainable if other countries see themselves as participants in its growth rather than simply as markets for it. The value for India lies in making these relationships complementary rather than choosing among them. India’s leadership of the Global South can now move beyond representation in international forums towards creating an international economic environment in which developing countries have greater choices. India’s own experience is relevant here. It has moved from a relatively closed economic model towards deeper global integration while retaining a strong emphasis on domestic capability. The lesson is that openness and strategic autonomy need not be contradictory.

As the G20 meets again in Miami in December, India can continue to argue that the Global South should not merely seek greater representation within existing institutions, but a greater stake in shaping the economic networks and institutions of the future. An economically integrated Indian Ocean could allow countries such as Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and the Maldives to participate more deeply in regional supply chains, logistics, energy, tourism, technology and services. Influence based on shared prosperity is more durable influence based on dependence. India’s strategic opportunity, therefore, lies in becoming one of the principal connectors of a changing world.

(Milinda Moragoda is founder of the Pathfinder Foundation, strategic affairs think tank, and can be contacted via email @milinda.org.)

Courtesy Hindustan Times

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