Features
Some reflections on sinhala popular music
By Uditha Devapriya
In Modernizing Composition: Sinhala Song, Poetry, and Politics in Twentieth-Century Sri Lanka (University of California Press, 2017), Garrett Field emphasises the role that radio played in disseminating and elevating musical standards in the newly independent colonies of South Asia. The 1950s, when this process played itself out, was a period in which the state and institutional politics “became inextricable from linguistic nationalism.” Across Sri Lanka, these links found their fullest expression in Radio Ceylon, specifically after the latter began to employ professional Sinhala songwriters.
This was not a development unique to Sri Lanka. As Coonoor Kripalani has argued, in India radio served a pivotal function “in building patriotism and nationhood” after independence. Radio was cheaper and more accessible, while in Sri Lanka it predated television by three decades. In India, as in Sri Lanka, it provided litterateurs, composers, and performers who had depended on the patronage of the colonial bourgeoisie, and had thrived on the cultural revivalist movements of the 19th century, a more solid institutional footing.
Field’s book is important for several reasons, in particular its attempt at understanding the subtleties of Sinhala music through translation. However, it ends at a point – the mid-1960s – when Sinhala music was about to embark on its most colourful period.

To say this is not to belittle Field’s book. Modernizing Composition fills a great many gaps, including its exploration of the links between commercial capitalism and the revival of Sinhala music in the early 20th century. It also acknowledges that music and poetry cannot be viewed in isolation from one another, particularly in the context of newly decolonised societies searching for a cultural identity. Indeed, its immense scope and breadth are why Field’s analysis, sound as it is, should be carried forward to the 1960s and 1970s, especially since it was in these later periods that the factors that underpinned the popularity of Sinhala music – free education and linguistic nationalism – reached their apogees.
To be sure, these two periods – the 1940s-1950s and the 1960s-1970s – were qualitatively different. They imbibed different cultural influences and pandered to different audiences and markets. Following Sheldon Pollock, Professor Field uses the theory of “cosmopolitan vernacularism” to explain how, following independence, poets and songwriters grafted or superimposed classical literary aesthetics on regional languages and thereby gave birth to “new premodern vernacular literatures.” Throughout South Asia in general, and across Sri Lanka in particular, it was Sanskrit that indigenous poets and songwriters turned to in their quest to elevate their linguistic heritages and lineages. The more Westernised among them also sought inspiration from modernist American and European poetry.
Since I am by no means a specialist in anthropology, I cannot pass judgments on how these developments played themselves out in the 1960s. Yet it is clear that these developments had their origins in the period immediately preceding 1956. Now, 1956 meant a great many things to a great many people. To some it symbolised the triumph of the indigenous over the foreign; to others, the triumph of ethno-religious majoritarianism. Whichever way you look at it, 1956 provided the crucible through Sinhala music could continue to transform, to evolve, and to thrive. Here I am concerned with two musical forms: baila and pop music. My justification for this is simple: it is these two genres which facilitated the popularisation, or what I call the “middle-browing”, of Sinhala music after the 1960s.

Baila is more controversial and more contentious than Sinhala pop. As Anne Sheeran has noted, baila as a musical genre, activates both conformist and conservative elements. It at once provokes many of us to flout tradition, and compels not a few others to protest that flouting of tradition. Thus nationalist ideologues can bemoan the deterioration of cultural values, and parents can bemoan their children’s addition to the latest cultural trends, by invoking its name. In other words, is it the proverbial bogeyman in the room, a scapegoat for the death of culture, and the last resort of the puritan.
It is all these things. Yet as one historian communicated to me some years ago, baila stands with ves natum as one of the most uniquely indigenous cultural forms in Sri Lanka, an irony given their foreign roots (Portuguese and Indian). And in the 1960s and 1970s, it underwent a transition that would define the trajectory of Sinhala music.
The significance of this transition cannot be overrated. Such transitions were taking place in other cultural spheres as well. In literature, the renaissance that had been heralded by Martin Wickramasinghe had meandered to the popular fiction of Karunasena Jayalath. In film, Lester James Peries’s experiments had enabled a number of directors, including two of his assistants and colleagues, Titus Thotawatte (Chandiya) and Tissa Liyanasuriya (Saravita), to seek a middle-ground between artistic and commercial cinema. The situation was rather different in the theatre, where a new generation of bilingual writers, including Dayananda Gunawardena, Premaranjith Tilakaratne, G. D. L. Perera, Henry Jayasena, Dhamma Jagoda, Gunasena Galappatti, and Simon Navagattegama, continued to hold on to some semblance of a benchmark. Yet even they sought a break from the past.
By this I do not mean to say, or suggest, that there was a complete rupture in Sinhala music. The old musical forms continued to thrive, if not evolve. The first generation of lyricists and songwriters, including Chandraratne Manawasinghe, Madawala Rathnayake, and the great Mahagama Sekara, continued to write for old collaborators, as well as new voices. However, many of them remained utterly classical in their views on music, and it was these views that prevailed at Radio Ceylon. As Tissa Abeysekera has controversially remarked, on more than one occasion, this had the effect of stunting the growth of Western music in Sri Lanka, even as Western music was gaining popularity over the airwaves and on film in India. Against that backdrop, a new generation of composers was bound to emerge.
In a series of essays, all anthologised in Roots, Reflections and Reminiscences (Sarasavi, 2007), Abeysekera argues that the conflict here was between those who advocated the Indianisation or Sanskritisation of local music and those who promoted more vernacular, indigenous musical forms. He refers to the visit of S. N. Ratanjankar and the audition that was conducted at Radio Ceylon, under his supervision, and points out that these led to the stagnation of Sinhala music. However, Garrett Field’s take on the visit, and the audition, is different: citing a speech that he delivered at the Royal Asiatic Society in Colombo, a speech Abeysekara does not quote from, Field contends that Ratanjankar wanted artistes to “create a modern song, based on folk poetry and folk music.” This is at variance with Abeysekera’s reading of events, which make it out that Ratanjankar, if not the authorities at Radio Ceylon, marginalised proponents of folk music, including Sunil Shantha.
I think both Field and Abeysekera have a point, and both are correct. While promoting if not advocating the indigenisation of music, Sinhala composers consciously went back to North Indian influences. Contrary to what Abeysekera has written, what this achieved in the end was a fusion of disparate cultural elements – Sinhala folk poetry and Sanskrit aesthetics – which laid the groundwork for an efflorescence in Sinhala music. At the same time, those who diverged from the mainstream trend of incorporating North Indian musical elements retreated to a world of their own. They included not just Sunil Shantha, but also the first-generation proponents of baila, like Wally Bastiansz, who found a niche audience eager to listen to them but failed to penetrate more middle-class audiences.
The question thus soon arose as to who could push these developments on to mainstream listeners. In the 1950s Sinhala composers and lyricists had popularised folk poetry through sarala gee, or light classical songs. In the 1960s baila had succeeded folk poetry as a popular musical form. The task of making baila palatable for young, Sinhala speaking audiences, fell on a new generation of composers. This new generation found their inspiration not so much in North Indian music as in Elvis, the Beatles, and Jimi Hendrix.
Their turning point, if it can be called that, came in 1967, a decade after 1956, when a little-known group, called The Moonstones, made their debut on Radio Ceylon. Featuring guitars, congas, maracas, and Cuban drums, their impact was immediate, so much so that within the next two years, both Phillips and Sooriya had signed them onboard.
What The Moonstones, and its lead Clarence Wijewardena, did was not so much challenge or flout the musical establishment of their time as to perform for an audience different in outlook and attitude to the audiences which the establishment had pandered to until then. This is a very important point, since I do not think there was a grand overarching conflict, in any way, between the new generation and the old. The old lyricists continued to write for their collaborators, and they willingly collaborated with the new voices: Sekara, for instance, wrote a song for one of the more prominent new voices, Indrani Perera, while Amaradeva sang for Clarence Wijewardena. Contrary to Abeysekera, I hence prefer to see this period as one of collaboration rather than outright, fight-to-the-death competition.
Field’s analysis, as I mentioned at the beginning of this essay, ends somewhere in the 1960s. His research is impeccably sound, and it deserves being carried forward. More than anything else, we need to know more about the audiences that the new composers, vocalists, and lyricists pandered to, and how exactly the latter groups pandered to them. We also need to know how their predecessors, who remained active in this period, interacted with them. I am specifically concerned here with the period from 1967 – when The Moonstones entered the mainstream – to 1978 – when a new government, a new economy, and an entirely new set of cultural forms and influences took the lead. All this represents much fieldwork for the anthropologist and historian of Sri Lankan, and South Asian, music. But it is the least we can do, given Garrett Field’s wonderful book and the many gaps it fills.
(The writer is an international relations analyst, researcher, and columnist who can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com.)
Features
Civilizational dialogue proving a remote possibility as realpolitik rages
Looking back over the years since the 9/11 catastrophe, it could be said that barring former Iranian President Mohammad Khatami no world political leader of note has made an earnest effort to change the nature of global political discourse for the better. Khatami won world acclaim for his pronouncement that the time is right to launch and sustain a ‘Dialogue among Civilizations’.
This was in marked contrast to US political scientist Samuel P. Huntingdon’s epochal theses, formulated in the wake of 9/11 and other global political tumults that the Post Cold War era is essentially one of conflicts among civilizations. That is, people’s identity markers, such as culture and religion, are the prime shaping forces of international conflicts.
From a Political Realism standpoint, Huntingdon’s theory may seem to have gained in credibility over the years but it is Khatami’s pronouncement that has evoked an empathetic response in the hearts and minds of publics world wide. So much so, 2001 was proclaimed by the UN General Assembly as the ‘Year of Dialogue among Civilizations’.
It could be said that the latter proclamation was an endeavour to give back to humans their essential identity of peace-makers. It was an eschewing of the position that war and conflict are central to the human condition and amounted to upholding constructive dialogue among peoples and civilizations as a path to peace.
That things have not worked out in the world in keeping with the expectations of peace makers does not in any way invalidate the thesis that peace is the essential propensity of humans.
If peace-making is seemingly ineffective it is primarily because the path to peace is narrow, tortuous and time-consuming. On the other hand, violence usually misleadingly recommends itself to the human as the more expedient, cost-effective way out of a conflictual situation. However, the ultimate cost of the latter approach is prohibitive because it brutalizes the human beyond recognition.
Some of the evidence is before our eyes. The Trump administration, for example, has, minus much forethought, unleashed what may be described as a ‘quick-fix’ war against Iran but is now finding that it is in a veritable military quagmire in West Asia. The priority for the administration now seems to be a face-saving escape strategy. Such are the costs of the war option.
However, there is no denying that much remains to be done by the world community to bring peoples and cultures together with a view to enabling them to work as one for the cause of a less dangerous world.
Meanwhile, the broad divisions in international politics continue and past political polarities are lingering to the detriment of enhanced international understanding. The East and the West and the South and the North, for instance, are continuing to work in separate collectives, more or less, and no notable efforts are being made by the international community to bring these sides together for the purpose of united constructive action that could usher greater international well being.
The recent Shanghai Cooperation Organization Summit, 2026, held in Kyrgyztan was a replication of the above broad trends but there were some statements at the forum by Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi that deserve special scrutiny and comment.
Modi was quoted saying among other things: ‘The land of Gandhi and the land of Buddha share a single message: the path to peace!..We must move away from endless war towards an end to the war. This is essentially for the well being of humanity. A peaceful resolution to all issues at the earliest is the call of humanity, and this is India’s message.’
The above is the language of international peace and unity. It is such language that will help in building bridges among civilizations and advance the cause of world peace. Besides, it will help bring a measure of understanding between North and South.
In this regard, the Trump administration could take a leaf or more from the Modi government. Unless it makes a ‘U turn’, as it were, in the direction of peace and reconciliation it is very unlikely that the US and the world would experience any stability worth speaking of.
Right now the US is savaging the sovereignty of Venezuela. It is a question of the ‘Empire striking back’ but Venezuela is a far cry from Iran. Iran has outsmarted the US on the battle field and is in a position to influence broad trends in the world economy since it still has control over the Hormuz Straits. That is, Iran could exercise a determining influence over world oil, gas and energy prices. In short, the US consumer’s future peace of mind is very much in the hands of Iran.
Given the above backdrop it should have dawned on the US political leadership that working towards cordial relations with Iran is the most advisable option. The US, simply, has too much to lose otherwise.
Likewise, Russia too needs to take a leaf from India. It is plain to see that its invasion of Ukraine is proving totally ineffective. It has not brought any measure of peace for the Russian people. Russia is right now experiencing a rerun of its military misadventure in Afghanistan. On the other hand, sections of the peoples concerned have been victimized and even brutalized.
Accordingly, there needs to be a coming together of democratic opinion worldwide for a fresh consideration of the options facing humanity. There is a dire need for value-based politics to take the place of Realpolitik. Besides, the language of peace and humanity needs to replace current divisive discourse with its stress on polarities and antagonisms.
International organizations of the stature of the UN need to take the lead in spearheading the above initiatives. Right now the UN gives the impression of being a spent force. This columnist hopes that he would be proved wrong on this score because the UN remains the only hope of the poor and victimized. It will be in the interests of all peoples for the UN to rejuvenate itself and dedicate itself increasingly enthusiastically to the cause of international peace.
Whether it be the South or North, dynamic, visionary political leadership and direction emerges as essential. The need is for voices that would espouse peace and accord across boundaries and divisions. For South Asia, India and Pakistan have the potential to fill this lacuna.
Features
Sri Lanka’s constitutional test: Judicial independence beyond immediate political moment
by Shelton Dharmaratne
Sri Lanka has reached an important constitutional moment.
The proposed 22nd Amendment has moved beyond political debate and into the constitutional process through which its validity will be examined. That development should change the character of the national discussion.
That is understandable in a politically contested environment. But Sri Lanka should now resist reducing a question of constitutional design to a contest over political positions.
The deeper issue concerns the relationship between constitutional reform, judicial independence and public confidence in the institutions of the State.
The Supreme Court will determine the constitutional questions before it. Public commentators should therefore exercise restraint in predicting, interpreting or seeking to influence that determination. But restraint does not require silence. It requires a more rigorous discussion of the institutional principles at stake.
A narrower constitutional question than the political debate suggests
The proposed amendment principally concerns the retirement ages of judges of the Supreme Court and Court of Appeal, together with an increase in the maximum number of judges permitted on the Court of Appeal.
Under the proposal, the retirement age of Supreme Court judges would rise from 65 to 67 and that of Court of Appeal judges from 63 to 65. The maximum number of Court of Appeal judges would also increase from 19 to 24.
Other proposed changes concerning the retirement ages of judges in the lower courts arise under separate legislation. This distinction matters because the public debate has sometimes treated the wider package of judicial reform as though it formed a single constitutional proposal.
Nor should the central issue be reduced to whether retaining experienced judges is inherently good or inherently dangerous. Both propositions are too simplistic.
Sri Lanka faces a substantial burden of pending litigation, and delays in the administration of justice impose significant costs on citizens, businesses and the State. Experienced judges represent an institutional resource. Continuity, accumulated knowledge and familiarity with complex areas of law cannot always be replaced immediately.
Those are legitimate policy considerations.
But the opposing concern is equally important: judicial tenure is not merely an employment condition. It is a structural component of judicial independence.
The real question is institutional
The critical question is not whether an individual judge is capable of acting impartially. It is whether the constitutional structure provides adequate protection against circumstances in which judicial tenure could become connected, directly or indirectly, with political authority.
That is an institutional question, not an accusation against individual judges.
A judge may be entirely conscientious and independent while the institutional arrangements surrounding the judiciary nevertheless create public doubts about independence. Constitutional democracies therefore cannot depend solely on the personal integrity of office-holders. They must construct institutions capable of preserving independence even when governments, individuals and political circumstances change.
This is particularly relevant when constitutional reform concerns the tenure of serving members of the superior judiciary.
The institutional sensitivity of such a proposal should neither be exaggerated into an allegation of improper motive nor dismissed as irrelevant. The appropriate response is transparency, procedural fairness and confidence in constitutional safeguards.
Legitimate objectives do not settle constitutional questions
The government has stated that its objectives include strengthening the administration of justice, addressing delays, retaining judicial experience and increasing institutional capacity.
Those objectives deserve serious consideration. Sri Lanka needs judicial reform. Citizens waiting years for their cases to be concluded experience the justice system very differently from those discussing it in Parliament, courtrooms or universities.
A government is therefore entitled to propose reforms designed to improve judicial efficiency.
But legitimate objectives do not automatically resolve constitutional objections. The relevant question is whether the means chosen are compatible with the constitutional structure and whether sufficient safeguards exist against unintended institutional consequences.
That is precisely why constitutional scrutiny matters.
The concerns of the Bar Association of Sri Lanka (BASL) should likewise be examined without political labelling. Opposition to the proposed changes should not automatically be characterised as opposition to judicial reform or an attempt to obstruct the government. At the same time, invoking judicial independence does not place any argument beyond scrutiny.
The appropriate questions are straightforward:
Does extending judicial tenure strengthen the administration of justice?
What risks, if any, could it create for judicial independence?
Are adequate institutional safeguards in place?
Does the proposal operate prospectively, or does it affect judges already serving?
Could the same objectives be achieved by filling vacancies, increasing judicial capacity, improving court administration and strengthening case management?
These questions can be examined rationally without attributing improper motives to either side.
Judicial vacancies and institutional confidence
Recent concerns raised by the BASL regarding judicial vacancies add another dimension to the debate. The BASL has argued that vacancies in the Supreme Court contributed to the retirement of a senior Court of Appeal judge without promotion to the Supreme Court, despite vacancies having existed. It has also raised concerns regarding forthcoming judicial retirements and the need for timely consideration of appointments.
Such matters should not be treated as evidence of the motives behind the proposed amendment. They do, however, illustrate a broader principle.
Judicial independence is shaped not only by the retirement age written into the Constitution. It is also influenced by how vacancies are filled, how promotions are determined, how seniority and merit are assessed, and whether judicial officers and the public believe that institutional decisions are made according to transparent and defensible criteria.
The government has an opportunity to address these concerns constructively.
Prompt appointments based on publicly defensible principles would strengthen confidence in the judiciary irrespective of the eventual outcome of the constitutional debate.
Seniority, merit and transparent criteria
The controversy also exposes a longstanding question concerning judicial appointments.
Seniority has traditionally carried considerable weight in judicial advancement. Yet seniority alone need not be the sole measure of merit. Conversely, replacing established practices with undefined assessments of “merit” could create another institutional problem.
If governments or appointing authorities can determine which judges are sufficiently meritorious without clear and objective criteria, uncertainty itself may become a source of institutional anxiety.
Sri Lanka would therefore benefit from clearer, objective and defensible standards governing judicial appointments and promotions.
Such standards would protect judges as well as appointing authorities. They would reduce opportunities for favouritism, strengthen institutional confidence and make it harder for political actors to portray every appointment as politically motivated.
Institutional rules are stronger safeguards than assurances of good intentions.
The State is larger than any government
One principle deserves particular emphasis: a government is not the State.
Governments are temporary. The constitutional State is continuing. Political parties change, parliamentary majorities change and political priorities change. The judiciary, however, must continue to function independently of whoever occupies the government benches.
The judiciary is neither a government institution in the political sense nor an Opposition institution. It is an institution of the State whose legitimacy depends upon its independence from both.
For that reason, governments should exercise particular caution when proposing constitutional changes affecting the judiciary, even where the policy objectives are legitimate.
The stronger a government is politically, the greater its responsibility to demonstrate institutional restraint.
That is not political weakness. It is constitutional maturity.
Public confidence is a constitutional asset
The most consequential issue may ultimately be neither retirement age nor judicial capacity, but public confidence.
Courts do not possess political power in the conventional sense. Their authority rests substantially on the acceptance of their decisions as legitimate.
Citizens will sometimes disagree with judicial decisions. But where the judiciary is perceived as independent, even unpopular decisions can command respect. If judicial institutions are perceived as being shaped by political convenience, even legally sound decisions may become vulnerable to suspicion.
Constitutional reform affecting judicial tenure must therefore be evaluated not only by its immediate administrative benefits but also by its effect on institutional credibility.
A reform that produces short-term efficiency while weakening confidence in judicial independence could impose a greater long-term cost. Conversely, reform that improves efficiency while preserving independence can strengthen both justice and public trust.
The challenge is not to choose between judicial efficiency and judicial independence. It is to achieve both.
If a referendum arises …
If the constitutional process ultimately requires approval by the people at a referendum, the debate should rise above the conventional government versus Opposition contest.
The electorate should be given a clear constitutional question and sufficient information to assess it.
Citizens should understand what problem the amendment seeks to address, why the proposed mechanism is considered necessary, what institutional risks have been identified, what safeguards exist and whether alternative measures could achieve the same objectives.
A constitutional referendum deserves a higher standard of public discussion than an ordinary election campaign.
The people would not merely be choosing a political side. They would be deciding the institutional framework within which political power and judicial authority operate.
Beyond who wins
The most important question arising from the proposed Twenty-Second Amendment is therefore not simply whether the government succeeds or whether the Opposition and BASL prevail.
Nor is it ultimately whether judicial retirement ages become 67 and 65 or remain unchanged.
Those are immediate constitutional questions. The deeper issue is what Sri Lanka learns from the controversy.
If the government seeks to modernise and strengthen the justice system, that objective deserves serious consideration. If the BASL and others warn that particular reforms may affect judicial independence, those concerns deserve equally serious examination.
Neither side strengthens the country by assuming that the other is acting in bad faith.
The constitutional system is strongest when legitimate disagreements are resolved through institutions rather than political pressure.
Whatever the eventual constitutional outcome, Sri Lanka will still face the underlying challenges of judicial vacancies, case delays, institutional capacity, judicial appointments and public confidence. Those problems will not disappear with a judicial determination, nor should the national conversation end there.
Sri Lanka should instead seek a broader consensus around a fundamental proposition:
Judicial reform and judicial independence are not competing objectives.
The real challenge is to pursue reform in a manner that strengthens the judiciary without placing its independence under suspicion.
That requires sound legislation, transparent appointments, adequate resources, efficient court administration, responsible political conduct and safeguards capable of surviving changes of government.
The present controversy will eventually pass. Political arguments surrounding it will fade.
But constitutional arrangements can endure for decades.
That is why Sri Lanka must look beyond the immediate political contest.
The ultimate test is not who wins today’s constitutional argument. It is whether, when the political moment has passed, Sri Lanka has a judiciary that is more efficient, more accessible and more trusted—while remaining sufficiently independent to hold every government, including future governments, within the boundaries of the Constitution.
Features
Farewell to a Fashion Icon
Sri Lanka’s fashion world lost one of its brightest stars Monday morning – veteran model, actress, and elite pageant trainer Chulpadmendra “Chula” Kumarapathirana.
Her sudden demise has certainly come as a shock to many.
Chula had just completed a major event on Sunday (30th August), and was no more in the land of the living the following day (31st August).
Born in Colombo, she was an old girl of Buddhist Ladies’ College and later studied at the National Institute of Business Management, and has many awesome achievements to her credit.
In 2006, she won the “Miss Tourism Model of the World Press Award” in Tanzania.
She entered the entertainment industry, as an actress, and gained popularity through the teledrama “Wahinna Muthu Wessak.”
Chulpadmendra has been on TV, and many Sri Lankan hip-hop music videos, including “Hanthane” and “Heena Hirimal”, and has had several other minor acting jobs since then.
She hosted the Derana Miss Sri Lanka for Miss World 2008 and even participated in the reality TV show Sirasa Dancing Star.
For over 25 years Chula was active in local and international fashion and founded the Chulpadmendra Catwalk Studio to train young newcomers
She trained hundreds of models for runway, photoshoots, auditions, and international pageants.
She was known as a fierce mentor who believed in “not just learning to walk, but learning to command the runway”.
Many young models called graduating from her studio their “happiest moment.”

Chulpadmendra “Chula” Kumarapathirana: Many young models called graduating
from her studio their “happiest moment.” (L)/ Won the “Miss Tourism Model of the World Press Award” in Tanzania (R)
Chula was very fond of The Island newspaper and kept in touch with us on a regular basis.
Her last message to The Island was a ‘thank you’ note for the article ‘New benchmark in pageant industry’:
“Thank you, Ivan, for writing such a beautiful article about me. Your unwavering support, encouragement, and belief in me throughout my career mean more than words can express. I am truly grateful for your kindness and generosity.
“My heartfelt thanks also go to The Island newspaper for featuring the article. It is a great honour, and I sincerely appreciate the recognition and support.
“Thank you once again.”
In fact, just a couple weeks ago, she sent a photo of herself for our Glam Scene and that picture I publish today, as part of this story.
May she rest in peace. Our deepest condolences to her family, students, and all who loved her.
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