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Some vignettes of Singapore and my move to UNESCO Paris

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Excerpted from volume ii of the Sarath Amunugama autobiography

Before I conclude my description of a short but enjoyable stay in Singapore I would like to describe some features of antiquarian interest which have now disappeared in that concrete jungle. They all exemplify various aspects of Chinese culture which immigrants from the mainland brought along with them in their arduous journey to the British colonial outpost of that time.

Many of the migrants arrived with only the bare clothing on their bodies. They mostly came from Guandong [Canton] in south China in overcrowded ‘Sampans’ and swam to shore to build a new life for themselves and their families. They were tough seafarers and good swimmers. Fortunately for them both the Colonial British administration and European Christian Missionaries received them with open arms despite of the alarm of the Malays whose ‘homelands’ were being invaded.

It was more than a demographic transition. The new comers were more hard working and entrepreneurial than the traditionally lazy Malays, who being blessed by nature with an abundance of food and babies, were loath to compete with the Chinese. This was clearly seen in the preponderance of Chinese merchants in the cities of the Malay states and Indonesia.

The ‘Bhumiputras’ were concentrated as small farmers and artisans in their villages and as social anthropologists like Cliffied Geertz have brilliantly demonstrated led a highly stratified existence in the ‘Kampongs’ where symbolic values prevailed within a culture of great social complexity. The hostility of the Malay peasants to the Chinese merchants remained as an undercurrent which broke out as race riots in Malaysia in 1969 and the mass slaughter of Communists and Chinese [often they were the same] in Indonesia in 1965 during the American inspired military coup.

It was in this background that Lee Kuan Yew and his PPP defused the embers of racial violence and established the multi-ethnic state of Singapore. That was no easy task. But happily many of the features of mainland Chinese culture were recreated by the immigrants in their new Singapore home, albeit in a diminished form.

The migrants coming on shore were helped by Christian missionaries who set up soup kitchens, elementary schools that taught English and Christianity, especially extracts from the Bible, and found employment for them in the emerging ‘sweated trades’ in the Straits Settlements and the lower rungs of the colonial administration. Since canny Chinese migrants quickly adapted themselves to benefit from the goodwill of the missionaries, who were busy making a head count of their converts to impress their sponsors in Europe, they were called ‘Rice Christians’.

But this characterization may be unfair because many of these converts stuck to their new religion and as forward looking Christians contributed to the modernization of Singapore. They added to the ethnic mosaic in the demography of a region which was dominated by traditional religions like Islam which were ‘other worldly’ and not as partial to economic and social growth. A good example was the migrant entrepreneurial family of C.K. Tang which dominates retail business on Orchard Road. As orthodox Christians the Tangs do not trade on the Sabbath and their large departmental store remains closed on that day much to the discomfort of holiday shoppers.

Cheek by jowl of the huge skyscrapers we still see the dimunitive historical church buildings in which Christian priests provided hot soup and sermons to the weary migrants who had come to escape the famines and grinding poverty which then marked the mainland. Migrants created “China Towns” which even in the 1980s were crowded living and trading quarters “which never sleeps”. Anything from ancient esoteric Chinese medicines to pet snakes could be purchased in China Towns which offered different provincial cuisine from Cantonese to Sichuanese and Teochew to northern wheat based delicacies.

One could also savour Indonesian, Thai, and Tamil cuisine in the hole in the corner restaurants in the vicinity where the proprietor dressed in a singlet and Khaki shorts would shout out the orders to the cooks who plied their trade on pavements in the open air. All the makeshift tables had zinc tops and trestle like legs which could be dismantled in a short while and upended at the end of the day’s business.

Nearby were the ‘Death Houses’ where old men and women were often forcibly lodged by their relatives. These shriveled oldsters would look out of the windows of the upstairs in their virtual prison and shout out to the pedestrians below. They were all awaiting death as permitted by ancient Chinese custom. Another unforgettable experience in China Town was the Chinese haircut and head massage given in small `saloons’ which dotted its alleyways. The barber would pull out long thin metal rods to which cotton wool earbuds were attached.

They would be gently eased into the ears which were then manipulated to clean the insides of the unfortunate clients’ ear canal. This caused an excruciating but very pleasant sensation which cannot however be safely recommended except to the intrepid ‘out of the world’ experience seeker. I doubt whether it is practiced nowadays in cosmopolitan Singapore.

Another favourite of tourists to Singapore was Bugis street where every evening transvestites would gather in their hundreds and parade along the narrow streets which were full of bars and small restaurants which were packed with sightseers. Nearby also were the brothels with their small rooms open to the street. Clients would freely walk in and out of these hovels which were full of Indonesian and Malaysian girls who were probably forced into prostitution due to poverty.

The Singapore government which is highly puritanical nevertheless turned a blind eye to these tourist attractions. The Gaylang district was full of brothels which advertised their custom by displaying a large red lantern at the entrance to the premises.

A Change in Occupation

While I was introducing changes in AMIC which were welcomed by FES and our membership I received a message from the Director General of UNESCO to visit Paris for an interview for the post of Director of the newly formed International Programme for the Development of Communication [IPDC]. The formation of the IPDC had been endorsed by the General Assembly of UNESCO but the DG had taken some time over it because he was not sure what form it would take vis-a-vis his administrative powers.

But he had settled finally on the idea of a special programme which had more independence and power than the departments of UNESCO which he controlled directly. In the case of the IPDC it was to have its own President, Director, Secretariat and Governing Council. In the light of the political contestation between the superpowers on the subject of media and communication, M’Bow the DG thought it wise to tread warily on this issue. He wanted a Director who was acceptable to all power groups.

For the office of President of IPDC, which was an honorary post, he managed to get approval for Gunnar Garbo, the delegate of Norway and national hero who had participated in the Norwegian resistance to the Nazis. Garbo had also been the Norwegian Ambassador to Tanzania. He was a towering figure and was acceptable to all sides. I was interviewed for the post of Director who was to be the functional head of IPDC, as the boss of the Secretariat answerable to the DG of UNESCO. I informed FES of the offer and with their reluctant approval left for an interview in Paris.

My friend Manu Ginige had booked me into a comfortable hotel close to our embassy in Rue D’Astorg. On the Monday morning I caught a taxi to the UNESCO building in Rue Miollis where ADG Gerard Bollas office was located. Since I came every year since 1977 to Paris for UNESCO meetings this was familiar territory which fact added to my confidence.

At this cordial meeting with Bolla he recounted his visits to Sri Lanka as head of the cultural Division of UNESCO. In fact it was Bolla who had recruited Luciano Maranzi to restore the damaged Sigiriya frescos in 1968.1 got the sense that I would be selected because he inquired whether I could be in Paris by September for the General Conference. He asked me to also follow classes in the French language at the Alliance in Singapore.

I also found out that I was the only candidate endorsed by diverse political groupings within member states. There were several other candidates from India, Bangladesh and some African countries but I left Paris rather confident that I will be selected. True enough in about a week’s time I received a letter from M’Bow stating that I had been selected as the Director of IPDC and should assume duties as early as possible.

No doubt this was a plum post in the UN system but I faced a problem in that I had been at AMIC for less than six months and it would be embarrassing to face FES which had placed such confidence in me. One consideration which weighed in my mind was that the UN paid for the education of the children of its staff and my daughters would benefit immensely by studying in France. It also meant that we could live together as a family in the dream city of Paris, which would be a great boon because my daughters were at an age when they could enjoy life there.

I consulted the Board members of AMIC who were unhappy to see me go but appreciated the fact that it was a rare opportunity. Sir Charles Moses, doyen of Australian Broadcasting wrote a kind letter to me which conveyed the sentiments of the AMIC Board; “I need hardly say that I will miss you at AMIC meetings. Apart from my personal regard for you, I feel that AMIC has suffered a real loss with your departure. It is a tragedy that you could not have stayed a couple of years longer. But that’s looking at the situation from AMICs point of view.

“On my part I am delighted for your sake that you have received the UNESCO appointment and I know that UNESCO is lucky to have got you. I expect you to go a long way in that, fine organization-I hope to the top. If by any chance your travels, bring you close to Australia please find some reason to spend a, day or so in Sydney and it would give me great pleasure to have you lunch or dine with me at my Club – the best in Australia.”

So with less than a year in Singapore I was now ready to go west to Paris and undertake a job which had been the focus of the hopes of many who looked forward to a more equitable and balanced new Information Order in the world. I was extremely lucky that it was a dream assignment in a territory that I was specially equipped to traverse. It was a rare opportunity to make a dream come true and I made ready to relocate in the ‘City of Light’.



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Revolt in the Temple: Poverty as Structural Control

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The underlying issue in Anuradhapura is a struggle between a few families who, for years, have waged a quiet cold war over control of the Udamaluwa. Similar situations exist in Mihintale as well. These places, among others, are treated as treasures of Buddhism but, in practice, function as tightly controlled economic centres. The same pattern repeats in Kandy around the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic and in Kataragama at the shrine of God Kataragama. Variations of it exist across religious spaces of Islam, Catholicism, and Hinduism too, where institutional authority becomes indistinguishable from localised power networks. What is presented as sacred order often operates as inherited control.

It is indeed devastating to see situations where parents have no alternative but to expose their children to predators in robes for survival. This has nothing to do with religion itself, but with human pathology in the context of survival. These are the questions that demand answers, not superficial responses that treat symptoms while ignoring the conditions that produce them. What is more shocking and disturbing is not the tragedy itself, but the reactions to it. Social media has overwhelmed us, not towards understanding, but towards a fragmented cognitive state with no exit route.

A friend of mine in Nairobi used to keep all his electronic devices at home and go into the forest once a month, spending days there before returning. He called it “detoxification”, but in reality it was an escape from a system that no longer allows uninterrupted thought. Daily life is now saturated with unnecessary content, and attention itself has become a commodity extracted, processed, and sold back to us. This is where we have become unable to understand what really drives certain tragedies we endlessly react to, while remaining blind to the systems that quietly manufacture them.

Multi-dimensional poverty

Poverty is structural, poverty is political, and poverty is functional; it is a tool and a manoeuvring force of power. The question is no longer whether poverty exists, but who benefits from its persistence, and who is forced to survive within it. From education to medicine to basic food supply chains, countries like Sri Lanka are not simply mismanaged; they are structurally captured by a small number of actors who remain stable regardless of who is formally in power. Small-scale enterprises and NGO circuits that circulate foreign funding to “solve structural issues” often operate as hollow administrative performances, producing reports rather than transformation.

Poverty is not merely the absence of money. It is the absence of bandwidth, absence of protection, absence of time, and absence of cognitive stability. As Sendhil Mullainathan and Eldar Shafir state, “Scarcity captures the mind. Just as the starving subjects had food on their mind, when we experience scarcity of any kind, we become absorbed by it.” This is a description of how human cognition is structurally reorganized under constraint. Scarcity does not sit outside the person; it occupies them.

They also state, “Scarcity leads us to borrow and pushes us deeper into scarcity.” That is the mechanism that must be confronted without euphemism. Poverty is not only deprivation; it is a self-reinforcing trap in which survival decisions generate the next layer of crisis. Once a society crosses a certain threshold of scarcity, it stops producing long-term reasoning as a default condition. It produces short-term survival logic, often mistaken by outsiders for irrationality.

It is precisely here that public discourse becomes intellectually dishonest. Everything is translated into moral language because moral language is easier than structural analysis. But morality without structure becomes theatre. It produces outrage, not understanding, and repetition, not reform.

It is indeed brutal when an individual wearing religious insignia—whether robe, symbol, or institutional identity—is accused of acts that fundamentally contradict the moral authority attached to that position. It is equally brutal when institutions that depend entirely on trust begin to function as shields rather than safeguards. But the deeper question is not shock. The deeper question is what kind of social condition produces families who see placement within such institutions not only as devotion, but as a survival strategy under constraint.

Ethical decision-making

That is where the argument collapses into its most uncomfortable form. Poverty does not produce ethical decision-making environments. It produces constrained optimization under pressure. When food insecurity, debt, and social instability converge, institutional spaces that appear stable become transactional destinations for survival rather than moral choices. To interpret this as purely cultural failure is to deliberately ignore the structural compression of options.

Mullainathan and Shafir describe this clearly: “Instead of saying that scarcity ‘focuses,’ we could just as easily say that scarcity causes us to tunnel: to focus single-mindedly on managing the scarcity at hand.” That tunnelling effect is not abstract. It is visible wherever long-term planning collapses under immediate pressure. Systems then misread this as irresponsibility, when it is in fact cognitive overload produced by structure.

What is rarely acknowledged is how deeply this extends into governance itself. Institutions increasingly operate as if they are managing rational, unconstrained individuals. In reality, they are interacting with populations whose cognitive bandwidth is already structurally taxed. The result is policy failure interpreted as public non-compliance, enforcement interpreted as moral correction, and reform interpreted as communication failure rather than design failure.

Social media has intensified this distortion. It does not merely spread information; it destroys sequencing. Structural problems require temporal depth. Social media removes that depth and replaces it with instantaneous judgment. Every event becomes a surface object, detached from causality. The outcome is a society permanently reacting and never diagnosing.

Poverty, in this environment, becomes invisible in its real form. It is not seen as a continuous structural condition but as episodic failure. A scandal appears, is consumed, and disappears. Another replaces it. Nothing accumulates into understanding because attention itself is exhausted before synthesis can occur.

Modern Condition

The modern condition reflects a reversal of earlier social organization, where human relationships are embedded within abstract systems of finance, law, and administration that often fail to recognize the lived constraints of those they govern. In this disembedded state, institutions increasingly misinterpret human behaviour as their capacity for structural understanding weakens. At the same time, attempts to resolve systemic failures through expanding administrative complexity produce diminishing returns: more regulation, oversight, and reporting generate less coherence. Over time, institutions shift from functional effectiveness to symbolic performance, maintaining the appearance of control rather than achieving it.

This is why public outrage repeatedly fails to translate into structural change. Outrage is not a tool of reconstruction. It is a signal of system fatigue. It circulates, intensifies, and dissipates without altering the underlying architecture. Meanwhile, the conditions that produce repetition remain intact.

The most persistent illusion is that these are separate problems: poverty here, institutional misuse there, media distortion elsewhere. They are not separate. They are expressions of a single condition in which scarcity, complexity, symbolic authority, and fragmented enforcement interact without coordination. The system does not fail in one place; it fails in the gaps between these layers.

Symbolic systems

What makes this condition more severe is that symbolic systems continue to operate at full strength even when structural systems degrade. Religious identity remains powerful. Political rhetoric remains strong. Cultural symbolism remains intact. But enforcement capacity, institutional coherence, and social trust degrade beneath them. That gap is where instability grows. Until that gap is addressed at the level of structure rather than sentiment, repetition remains inevitable. New scandals will emerge, new interpretations will circulate, and new cycles of outrage will follow. Nothing resolves because nothing is being reconstructed beneath the surface of reaction.

This is no longer repairable through adjustment or rhetoric. It is a form of decay that persists until it exhausts itself, because the mechanisms meant to correct it are now part of the same failure. It continues until rupture, not reform. At that point, instability ceases to be episodic and becomes structural. Pressure will accumulate into breakdown, and what follows will not be managed transition but forced reversal. The responsibility lies with those who govern these institutions to prevent that trajectory, not through language, but through change. The drama is ending; farce is over; what we are witnessing is tragedy unfolding with unprecedented consequences.

by Nilantha Ilangamuwa

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Are threats to Buddha Sasana external or from within?

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As Sri Lanka celebrates the birth, Enlightenment and the Parinibbana of the Buddha, almost a month after the rest of the Buddhist-world did so, there is widespread discussion about threats to Buddha Sasana provoked by some recent incidents. Regarding the views expressed about postponing Vesak celebrations in my article ‘May Day and postponement Vesak 2026’ (The Island, 25 May), my very good friend Dr Upali Abeysiri has sent me the following comments: “The Mahanayakas have a good reason to postpone Vesak. The dawning of the full moon has to be on the same constellation (nekatha) as when the Buddha was born and attained enlightenment. Although Adhi Poya is reckoned as the second full moon arising in the same calendar month, this is supposed to be an odd exception.” Though it would have been ideal if a consensus could have been reached prior to the split of celebrations, perhaps, it does not matter very much as celebrations occur on a symbolic rather than an actual date, there being no historical or archaeological evidence confirming exact dates.

Whilst there are no direct threats to Buddha Dhamma, as the expanding horizons of science continue to confirm the fundamentals of Buddha Dhamma, there is no doubt whatsoever that there are threats to Buddha Sasana. However, these threats become important as the Buddha Sasana performs the pivotal role in protecting and propagating the Dhamma and, hence, become an indirect threat to Dhamma itself. Therefore, it should be the concern of all Buddhists and it is in this spirit I am making some comments which some may interpret as disrespectful to the Maha Sangha. I can reassure that my intentions are entirely directed towards the preservation of the Buddha Dhamma and Sasana. Though the Buddha proclaimed that the Sasana consists of Bhikkhu, Bhikkhuni, Upasaka and Upasika, for all practical purposes Sasana had been led by Bhikkhus, often at the expense of others.

There is hardly any doubt that there are external forces at play in Sri Lanka and even some Buddhists seem to object to Sri Lanka being called a Buddhist country. Interestingly, no one seems to object to countries like the UK and the USA being called Christian counties. I

There is no registration or baptism in Buddhism and there are no rewards for Buddhists for conversions. As I pointed out in a previous article, ‘How does the Buddha differ’ (The Island, 1 May) unlike most other religions, Buddhism is not a ‘high-demand’ religion, nor ‘law-based’ religion and is not exclusivist. Perhaps, it is this liberalism, pacifism and gentleness, which are the real strengths, that are being exploited as weaknesses by others.

There will always be external threats and the Buddha too faced many during his lifetime. Before addressing those, is it not more important to address the threats within? One of the most important problems seems to be the breakdown of discipline. Bhikkhus are bound by Vinaya rules, laid down by the Buddha and some recent incidents highlight total deviations. Though there were many previous incidents like unsubstantiated claims of Arahanthood, Bhikkhus attacking each other on YouTube and Bhikkhus conducting YouTube channels, not for the propagation of the Dhamma but for the accumulation of rupees, attention was focused after the detection of 22 young monks carrying narcotic drugs.

Though many commentators were quick to condemn the Sangha on this account, we need to go deeper. Narcotic menace has become a huge problem in Sri Lanka and it looks as if the drug lords would resort to anything to achieve their objectives. Though it looks as if some gullible young monks had been duped by drug lords, we need to question why it was possible. Is it due to the lack of supervision of these novices by their seniors that allowed them to accept a request in a WhatsApp group? Should there be checks and balances on foreign travel by Bhikkhus?

What shocked Buddhists was what followed next; the arrest of the Nayaka of Atamasthana for allegedly having sex with a minor. Anuradhapura was our first capital and Sri Maha Bodhi is the longest surviving authenticated tree in the world. Ruwanweliseya and Jetawanaramaya were among the ten tallest man-made structures in the ancient world, Jetawanaramaya still holding the Guiness record for the largest stupa in the world. Cyberspace is full of theories. Whilst some have condemned the Nayaka Thero even before the conclusion of inquiries whilst others claim that this was a coup by another Nayaka Thera in an attempt of succession.

I was intrigued, reading in a Sri Lankan newspaper about the 80th birthday celebrations of a Nayaka priest, who was convicted in London in 2012 of historical child sex abuse and sentenced to seven years in prison. I remember the case very well as he was the head of the Vihara, we had our first contact on relocating to the UK. I also remember his devotees, who believed that he was wrongly accused, collecting over £50,000 for an appeal. In spite of being represented by one of the top Barristers in the UK, the conviction was upheld but the jail-term was reduced by a year. His name is still on the sex-offenders register in the UK and he is permanently prevented from association with children. One can argue that as he has served the sentence and not reoffended, this should not be held against him but what baffled me is that he is still being referred to as the Chief Sangha Nayaka. Should a person on the sex-offenders register be the Chief Sangha Nayaka?

It is high time we put our own house in order before fighting the external enemies. It is reported that the former president CBK has written to the Mahanayakas requesting urgent reform and we should be obliged to her for taking the lead.

There are many aspects that need urgent reform, the first being removal of caste barriers practiced by some Nikayas, which is the greatest insult to the Buddha who promoted equality. The second is the active encouragement of Bhikkhuni Sasana which has not happened in spite of the landmark ruling by the supreme court. The third is the establishment of proper disciplinary processes under a single Adhikarana Sangha Nayaka with powers and support than allowing the government to take over the control of even non-criminal Vinaya matters.

There are many other issues that need settlement like the controversy of the land of Buddha’s birth which seems to linger on. An expert committee should hear all evidence and settle this issue once and for all.

As I have pointed out on many occasions in these columns, it is high time a Dhamma Sangayana was held, as the last one was 70 years ago. Ideally, it should be different with active participation of lay experts as well. It is the duty of us Buddhists to ensure that the words of wisdom of the Buddha continue to enlighten generations to come.

By Dr Upul Wijayawardhana

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Vijaya Kumar: Academic, Activist & Genial Fellow-Traveller

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Professor Vijaya Kumar

The University of Ceylon, Peradeniya, was in our time, a less-crowded residential university, where everybody knew everybody else or at least knew of everybody else.

I knew of Emeritus Professor Vijaya Kumar of the Department of Chemistry at Peradeniya, or Kumar, as we referred to him fondly, before I got to know him. His dear wife Savitri, also a member of the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry, was nicknamed Kumee, by some of their students (of which vintage is unknown to me) and the duo were thereafter referred to affectionately as Kumar and Kumee.

The Faculty of Science became a regular haunt of mine as I would go there in the company of my batchmates to attend lectures on Basic Mathematics given by Professor Maheswaran, as it was a requirement for our General Arts Qualifying Examinations. I would also go there to listen to some excellent talks under a programme that was held in the auditorium of the Science Faculty referred to as “Popular Science Gossip”. The “gossip” at these talks were not confined solely to science but were broad enough to include Literature, History and other branches of knowledge as well. I would often spot Kumar in the audience at these talks or bump into him in the corridors of the Science Faculty. But I got to know him personally only after he became the Warden of Arunachalam, my hall of residence, during my undergraduate years initially, and later, as a member of the academic staff of the Department of English.

Our Science Faculty undergraduate contemporaries, especially those at Arunachalam Hall and its immediate neighbour, Jayatilaka Hall, both within a stone’s throw away from the Science Faculty, shared many an anecdote about Kumar and their other lecturers. One of these anecdotes, had to do with a spectacular (motor car) driving feat of Kumar’s. Legend has it that he drove from his university bungalow-home to the Faculty of Science deploying only the reverse gear of his car! Kumar, on hearing of this, had told certain of his student friends, including some who became his colleagues later on, that this story is one of the biggest yarns he had heard in his life!

Some of his one-time younger colleagues, now in retirement like Kumar, tell me that Kumar exuded warmth and friendliness in all of his professional and administrative interactions with others in the wider university community. But there was no warmth or mercy for those who indulged in the unsavoury pastime of student ‘ragging’. He was a very strong proponent of the need to ensure to all freshers an environment free of the menace of ‘ragging’. He remained ever-vigilant during the ‘ragging’ season. There are stories of his chasing ‘raggers’ and catching them. Professor Maheswaran, who later became an intimate friend and remains so after more than half a century, was another who was fiercely opposed to ‘ragging’. I was a personal witness to Mahes chasing a ‘ragger’ up and down the stairs of the main library to nab him. Yet another of his students has noted that Kumar’s office room in the Faculty was a total mess at all times. It had tables, piled so high with books and documents that one could not easily spot Kumar at his desk. He, however, had the knack of pulling out from amidst the clutter, any document that he needed at any given time. If anybody were to volunteer to help tidy his desk, Kumar would respond firmly with “Don’t you touch my desk!”.

Kumar, like several of his colleagues in the other faculties as well, had his own eccentricities. According to information received from reliable sources, Kumar who taught Organic Chemistry used to carry his lecture notes in his shirt or trouser pocket with ‘the entire lecture condensed in point form on a half-sheet or half of a half-sheet of paper’. The way he rummaged through his sling bag filled to the brim with stuff to find an item that he needed was another ritual that amused onlookers.

Kumar, interestingly enough is a Royal-cum-Thomian product, in that he had his primary education at S.Thomas’ Prep School, Kollupitiya and the entirety of his secondary education at Royal College, which he entered in 1953. In a note written by Kumar himself, he notes that despite having had excellent teachers at Royal, his was not a notable school career. He goes on to say that “the only achievement I could boast of was my being the joint-winner of the school General Knowledge Prize”. However, he had been active in a Scout Group outside of school (1st Port of Colombo, Sea Scouts) where he “was Queen’s Scout, Patrol leader, and later, Assistant Scout Master”.

Kumar entered the Faculty of Science of the University of Ceylon in 1961 and secured from it an honours degree in Chemistry in 1965. He joined the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry in the Faculty of Science, University of Ceylon, Peradeniya in 1965 and left the following year for Magdalen College at Oxford University, from which institution he obtained his doctorate in Chemistry. His entire teaching career was at Peradeniya, where in the period 2003-2006 he served as the Dean of the Faculty of Science, a position that his late father-in-law had held a few decades earlier.

Among the other highlights of his career are: Chairman of the Industrial Technology Institute (formerly the Ceylon Institute of Scientific and Industrial Research, CISIR); Member (representing Sri Lanka) of the Geneva-based UN Commission on Science and Technology from 1999 to 2007 and its President from 2001-2003; President of the Sri Lanka Estate Workers Union from 1989 onwards; Member of the Politburo of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party from 1988 to 2014 and currently, a member of the Executive Committee of the National People’s Power (NPP).

Vijaya and Savitri Kumar are parents of daughters Shamala and Ramya, who are following in the footsteps of their parents: with the former teaching in the Department of Agricultural Economics in the Faculty of Agriculture, University of Peradeniya and the latter, in the Department of Community Medicine at the University of Jaffna.

(I wish to thank the following who assisted me in the writing of this brief essay: Mr. Bandula Warnakulasuriya, Emeritus Professor Ratnayake Bandara, Professor Mahinda Wickramaratne, Professor Swarna Wimalasiri and Mr. Manik de Silva).

*Editor’s note: Prof. Vijaya Kumar, a member of the NPP’s National Executive Committee and is still active in politics turns 84 today. This article by Tissa Jayatilaka, former Executive Director of the United States – Sri Lanka Fulbright Commission for Mutual Academic Exchange, was written for an upcoming collection of essays on Kumar’s life by his friends.

(Colombo Telegraph)

By Tissa Jayatilaka

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