Features
The Ceylon Journal offers a selection of readable articles
Speech made at launch by Prof. Walter Perera,
Emeritus Professor University of Peradeniya
After my retirement from university service in 2021, I began to turn down engagements that involved speaking in public. Over the last two months, for instance, I was invited to be chief guest on three occasions, invitations which I accepted with that caveat. Then, why oh why, did I consent to publicly review a journal which includes a potpourri of articles on the Portuguese, Dutch and British periods, bank note collecting, supreme court interventions, cricket controversies, cartography, film, art, the ’43 group, women Marxists, linguistics, and more—topics on which my knowledge is uneven at best?
I can posit three reasons: First, I edited The Sri Lanka Journal of the Humanities at Peradeniya from 1996 to 2011. This journal was once tauntingly described by a colleague from another University as one which publishes anything and everything—taunts that disappeared, I should add, when an essay by this academic was accommodated therein. So, being cognizant of the perils and pains of producing such an all-encompassing journal, the least I could do was to support an editorial team that could face similar charges; secondly, I could relate to the journal’s purpose which is to delve into our past and explore our rich heritage to enrich our identity and inspire our people to create a better Sri Lanka; thirdly, I was bowled over by the dynamism, enthusiasm, and persuasive powers of Avishka Senewiratne, the editor, who somehow managed to counter every excuse I threw at him.
Congratulations, Avishka and team for putting together such a thoughtfully collected, beautifully illustrated, innovative first issue of The Ceylon Journal. In an age that has gone almost completely digital, it is refreshing to find that printed issues will be available for this volume at least. While there is something in it for everyone, I would urge those who access this journal not to focus on their areas of interest alone but to read The Ceylon Journal in its entirety. You will find absorbing snippets of information never encountered before and certainly not included in one volume; for instance, I have sung in Anglican church choirs for 58 years and have often encountered Bishop Heber’s infamous line “every prospect pleases and only man is vile” in relation to Ceylon which is part of “From Greenland’s Icy Mountains” and found in Hymns: Ancient and Modern. (Let me hasten to assure you that this obnoxious hymn has not been sung for generations in our churches in Sri Lanka—certainly not in my lifetime).
Also, as a student of history and a Kandy resident, I have visited the site of Davie’s Tree. But I was unaware that Heber was motivated by king Sri Wikrama Rajasinghe’s (some would say) equally infamous act of reneging on his deal with Major Davie and slaughtering British soldiers until I read the essay “Major Davie’s Tree over Two Centuries” jointly authored by Buddhika Dasanayake and Tharindree Fernando.
Moving on, I should point out that the senior contributors who are featured here enhance their reputations with outstanding essays, while others demonstrate immense talent that is surely a precursor to even more extraordinary research to follow. Overall, the essays augur well for the future of research in the island. Sadly, the exigencies of time prevent me from referring to all the contributions. With just 15 minutes at my disposal, I would be in danger of spreading myself too thin in following such a course, so I have confined myself to a few.
The patron, Desamanya MDD Peiris, and the editor insist that this is not a donnish journal which is true to an extent. To use a cliché, many of the articles are an easy read—which was the intention, I was informed. But, as a former don, I relished reading the first two articles which are examples on how to write properly documented academic pieces. Taking KD Paranavitana’s research as a point-of-departure, CR de Silva explores the many theories posited on why the seaside town was called Galle, how the fort evolved during Portuguese times, the many attacks made on it from without, and the complex revenue structure imposed by the Portuguese rulers.
He bemoans his inability to say much about the social life of the local populace because records have been destroyed but points out crucial source material to potential researchers who would wish to fill that gap. Experts on the Portuguese period in Sri Lanka are fast becoming extinct as I discovered to my cost when CR de Silva forwarded an article by a foreign scholar for publication in the journal that I edited. Unable to find anyone suitable to do a proper peer review, I just went by CR’s recommendation. The Ceylon Journal should feel honoured that CR (now in retirement) has taken the time to provide an enlarged, updated and absorbing version of “Galle 400 Years Ago.”
Michael Ondaatje begins a chapter in Running in the Family with the words: “On my brother’s walls in Colombo are false maps. Old portraits of Ceylon. The result of sightings, glances from trading vessels, the theories of sextant. The shapes differ so much, they seem to be translations—by Ptolemy, Mercator, Francois Valentyn, Mortier and Heydt—growing from mythic shapes into eventual accuracy.” In “Early Cartography of Sri Lanka,” KD Paranavitana fleshes out what Ondaatje had mentioned whimsically by employing maps ranging from 150 AD to 1794 with insightful commentary. We see the “eventual accuracy” Ondaatje refers to being established before our eyes with each cartographer improving on his predecessor’s work.
We also learn fascinating details apropos the interactions between locals and the Dutch in the process—how headmen “incited villagers to show their dislike towards the new land surveys to protect themselves from heavy land taxes,” while the subsequent treaty between the VOC and the King of Kandy in 1766, led to the two sides working in tandem. One cartographer Ondaatje does not mention is the Frenchman Jean du Perron which perhaps proves Paranavitana’s argument that Perron’s contribution which “was the basis of all maps of Ceylon produced in the early British days” has not been fully recognized.
It was from my history teacher at Trinity College that I learned the singular Sinhala expression, now hardly used, “Eka wune copi kale,” which refers to something that transpired a long time ago; specifically, when coffee was a major industry in Sri Lanka. Hugh Karunanayake’s “George Wall: A Cornerstone of Sri Lanka’s Plantation Economy” is an account of one who flourished when king coffee held sway and floundered with the coffee blight but still chose to live here despite reduced circumstances.
The Ceylon Journal
does not demonstrate an obsessively postcolonial bent. This allows for a revisionist, even compassionate view of the colonial period, although, as Manohara R de Silva’s article on the Supreme Court reversal of the Gampola Perahera case judgment demonstrates, the system’s then perceived partiality to the minorities is critiqued as well. What is noteworthy, is the editorial fairness in accommodating all points of view.
To return to George Wall, he is described in an unapologetically favourable manner. Not only did he do much for the island’s economy as Chair of the Ceylon Chamber of Commerce and as a founder of the Ceylon Planters’ Society, but he had also threatened to resign his prestigious position in the Legislative Council if the proposed Paddy Lands Act and the Waste Lands Ordinance which would have severely impacted on indigenous farmers not been withdrawn. He is one among several colonizers featured in this publication whose genuine affinity with his country of adoption and its people is a given.
Let us turn from history to film. An implied aim of this journal is to show the island in a positive light wherever possible. Sri Lanka has attracted several renowned directors and actors to its shores over the years like Robert Morley, Gregory Peck, Vivian Leigh, Alec Guinness, David Lean, Harrison Ford, Steven Spielberg to name a few. They found in Sri Lanka a hospitable terrain for filming when other countries had imposed restrictions, or political actors posed threats. India, or Pakistan, was the logical location to film Salman Rushdie’s “Midnight Children,” for instance, but it was ultimately done here because of the fear of protests by fundamentalists.
What is not so well known is how “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom” came to be filmed in the island, a lacuna that is filled by Chandran Ratnam. In a riveting, step-by-step narrative, embellished by photographs never previously disclosed, he details how he persuaded the principals to switch the production to censor-free Sri Lanka as he witnessed them becoming increasingly annoyed with the Indian authorities for banning the use of words, like Thugee and Maharaja, in the script. Besides proving to the world that Sri Lanka can provide a hospitable working environment, on occasion, the article takes readers through the inner workings of film production during which they learn fascinating details about the ideological positions, thought processes and mannerisms of some international personalities who have contributed immensely to the silver screen.
It is here that in the interests of time management, I need to reduce what I say on individual contributions. I will leave it to readers to discover for themselves Avishka’s compelling article that captures the fascinating life of the intrepid traveller, accomplished translator, and friend of Ceylon, Raven Hart; Nilantha Perera Palihawadana’s engaging essay on the establishment and evolution of the 43 group; Elmo Jayawardena’s nostalgic account of his “romance,” as he calls it, with the bi-plane, the Tiger Moth; Sandagomi Coparahewa’s informative piece of research on the interactions among, and the evolving status of, languages ancient and modern, local and foreign, during the early colonial period; Andrew Nicholl’s prolific career as artist in and of Ceylon (a career that coincided with that of Sir Emerson Tennent) which is meticulously rendered with suitable illustrations by Malaka Talwatte; and Ramla Wahab-Salman’s “Utopia Unfinished (Colombo)” which contends that the city was “planned with a progressive vision that was ecological, futuristic and people centric,” elaborates on the vision of Patrick Geddes who had substantially influenced Minette be Silva’s work, but laments that Utopia could not be achieved on account of socio-political and historical factors.
Kanchanakesi Warnapala’s balanced review of Serendipity: A Happy and Unexpected Rediscovery of Sri Lanka which brings this volume to a close, epitomizes this journal’s even-handed approach to topical issues. While lauding Quincy Saul for demonstrating an in-depth knowledge of Sri Lanka’s history, mythology, and politics, and the dexterity with which he marries history and ecology, she mildly reproaches him for faulting external elements alone in causing harm to the environment. Warnapala concludes, “Serendipity’s inclination to blame colonial and neocolonial forces for ecological damage is to perhaps erase the collective culpability of us, Sri Lankans. It is perhaps we, Sri Lankans, who must be accountable, reverse the damage and navigate across the chaotic landscape.”
Having carefully perused this issue, I can confirm that these essays, cartoons, drawings and photographs are not a hodgepodge of discordant pieces but harmonize in the manner that a well patterned mosaic pleases the eye. I recommend it without any reservation whatsoever.
Just a word of caution from one who has edited journals for 16 years and more. While vision, hard work and enthusiasm can produce a striking maiden effort, sustaining a journal over a period calls for a different kind of commitment and the ability to keep motivating a support team. Publishing journals can become a monotonous, tedious exercise. Also, it is crucial to think of successors even as a journal is flourishing. Some of the journals I edited have not been published with the same regularity after I stepped down. I now recognize with hindsight that editing had become too much of a vanity project. I was so intent on producing the requisite number of issues per year that I neglected to groom a successor. That The Ceylon Journal is funded by private donors, unlike a university journal, will bring about another set of challenges—all concerns that need to be addressed down-the-road.
Avishka has employed these famous lines from WS Senior’s The Call of Lanka as filler in one of the introductory pages. “I offer a voice, O Lanka/ I Child of an alien isle,/For my heart has heard thee, and kindled./Mine eyes have seen thee and smile;/Take, Foster-Mother, and use it; Tis but for a little while.” Their inclusion is perhaps not coincidental because the memoir of this early 20th century vice principal of Trinity College was published posthumously last year.
Sceptics would say that, as a typical colonizer, Senior here arrogates to himself a voice to speak for Lankans. But nothing would be further from the truth. The island with its salubrious environment and ancient culture is crying out for a bard to extol these facets, says the English missionary who has fallen in love with it. So, he offers his gifts as a poet and chronicler to his foster mother “for a little while.” We need not restrict the word bard to mean poets alone but include other forms of expression as well. The country’s pleas, as Senior frames them, were fulfilled decades later with two Booker winners and other outstanding creative writers across genres. But I would go a step further and declare that every single contributor to this volume on Sri Lanka is essentially a bard. Like the golden bird sitting on the golden bough in WB Yates’s poem, “Sailing to Byzantium,” they sing eloquently “Of what is past, or passing, or to come.”
Features
Toward a people-friendly transport system in Sri Lanka
Professor Mohamed Maheesh’s inquiry into reducing fuel waste amidst a failing public transport system and chronic congestion he discussed in a YouTube on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/reel/892342193673092) strikes a chord because it addresses a structural crisis with a call for individual agency. While the lack of a robust transit network often makes private vehicle use feel like a forced choice, rather than a luxury, the ‘unnecessary’ waste, he mentions, is often fuelled by a combination of outdated driving habits and a lack of collaborative transit solutions. In a country where idling in gridlock is a daily tax on both the wallet and the environment, the response must be a tactical shift toward high-occupancy behaviour—such as organised carpooling—and a conscious adoption of ‘smooth’ driving techniques that minimise the fuel-heavy cycles of rapid acceleration and braking. Ultimately, while we wait for the systemic overhaul of our railways and bus lanes, the most immediate way to curb waste is to decouple our movement from peak-hour bottlenecks through better route planning and, where possible, advocating for decentralised work models that remove the need for the commute entirely.
Reducing fuel waste
The question raised by Prof Mohamed Maheesh, regarding the feasibility of reducing fuel waste in a country plagued by gridlock and a weak public transport system, is a modern dilemma with deep historical irony. For a nation currently tethered to expensive, imported fossil fuels, the ‘unnecessary consumption’ mentioned by Prof Mohamed Maheesh is not just a personal inconvenience but a macroeconomic burden. While individual driving habits and the adoption of carpooling are immediate sticking points for reform, the core of the issue lies in the structural abandonment of high-capacity, electrified transit—a system that Sri Lanka actually pioneered over a century ago. Between 1892 and 1900, Colombo transitioned from a horse-drawn era to a modern electrical one. Following the call for tenders by the Colombo Municipal Council, the Colombo Electric Tramway was established, with the first lines—the Grandpass and Borella routes—opening on January 11, 1900. This was a period where the city’s movement was decoupled from the price of oil, powered, instead, by a dedicated station in Pettah. At its zenith, the system operated 52 tram cars, providing a reliable, fixed-rail alternative that kept the city’s arteries clear of the chaotic private vehicle growth we see today.
However, the decline of this ‘strong public transport’ began not with a lack of demand, but through labor and management friction. The historic Tramcar Strike of January 23, 1929, led by A.E. Goonesinha, marked a shift in the operational viability of the private firm, Boustead Brothers. Although the Municipal Council took over operations on August 31, 1944, the post-war global trend toward ‘flexible’ rubber-tired vehicles led to the system’s eventual demise. The last tramcar ran on June 30, 1960, and by 1964, even the electric trolley buses, that replaced them, were scrapped.
Importance of railway
This historical trajectory confirms Prof. Maheesh’s underlying point: the current waste is a result of moving away from a system that once worked. To reduce fuel consumption today, we are effectively trying to ‘tech’ our way out of a problem that was solved in 1900. Until we reintegrate the efficiency of rail-based or electrified mass transit, the ‘unnecessary’ waste of fuel in traffic remains an inevitable tax on a society that traded its electric tracks for a congested, oil-dependent future.
The modern Light Rail Transit (LRT) proposals for Colombo, primarily the Japan-funded project that reached advanced stages before its cancellation in 2020, represent a massive technological and spatial leap from the original 1900 tram system. While the original Colombo Electric Tramway operated at street level on narrow 12 km routes like the Grandpass and Borella lines, modern LRT plans envision a 75 km network across seven main lines, utilising elevated tracks to entirely bypass the ‘unnecessary traffic’ Prof. Mohamed Maheesh describes. Unlike the streetcars of the past, which were often accused of causing road congestion and operated among pedestrians and horse-drawn carriages, the proposed LRT is designed for high-speed, high-capacity movement—capable of carrying over 30,000 passengers per hour in a single direction, compared to the 52 modest tram cars that served a much smaller, slower-moving Colombo.
Despite these advancements, the two systems share a core philosophy: the electrification of public transport to reduce reliance on fossil fuels. The original trams were powered by a dedicated station in Pettah, a localised energy model that modern LRT would mirror on a much larger scale to insulate the city’s transport costs from global oil prices. However, the modern project has faced significant political and financial hurdles that the British-era system avoided during its first few decades. As of early 2026, although the Sri Lankan government has attempted to revive the project, the Japan International Cooperation Agency (JICA) has maintained that approval depends on the successful completion of ongoing multimodal transport hubs. This delay leaves a century-old gap in Colombo’s infrastructure: we have moved from an era of functional electric tracks to one of aspirational elevated rails, while the daily reality remains the fuel-wasting gridlock Prof. Maheesh highlights.
A mirror of values
A transport system is more than a set of roads, buses, and trains. It is a mirror of how a society values its people—their time, their safety, their dignity, and their ability to participate fully in national life. In Sri Lanka, mobility is a daily struggle for millions, yet it is also the foundation upon which economic opportunity, social inclusion, and national cohesion depend. If we are to imagine a more humane and efficient future, we must begin by rethinking transport, not as a technical sector, but as a social contract.
Sri Lanka’s current transport landscape is a paradox. The country possesses a long-established railway network, an extensive road system, and a vibrant culture of movement that keeps even remote communities connected. Yet the lived experience of travel is often stressful, unpredictable, and unsafe. Congestion in urban areas has reached unsustainable levels. Public transport, though essential, suffers from fragmentation, poor coordination, and declining quality. Pedestrians navigate hostile streets, and vulnerable groups—women, elders, children, and disabled people—face daily risks that should be unacceptable in a modern society. A peoplefriendly transport system must, therefore, address not only infrastructure but the deeper structural and cultural issues that shape mobility.
Fundamental requirement
Safety is the most fundamental requirement of a humane transport system. Sri Lanka’s road fatality rates remain among the highest in the region, and these tragedies are not random misfortunes; they are the predictable outcomes of systemic neglect. Treating road safety as a public health priority rather than a policing matter is essential. This means designing roads that slow vehicles where people walk and live, enforcing speed limits consistently, improving driver training, and ensuring that vehicles meet basic safety standards. It also means recognising that certain groups—children walking to school, elders crossing busy roads, women travelling at night—face disproportionate risks. A society that protects its most vulnerable road users creates a safer environment for everyone.
Yet safety alone does not create dignity. A peoplefriendly system must also guarantee accessibility. In Sri Lanka, mobility is often shaped by inequality: urban residents enjoy more options than rural villagers, men feel safer travelling at night than women, and those with private vehicles enjoy privileges that public transport users do not. A humane system ensures that all citizens, regardless of income, gender, age, or physical ability, can travel with dignity. This requires lowfloor buses that elders can board without struggle, stations with ramps and handrails, clear signage for those with visual impairments, and reliable services that do not force women to choose between harassment and immobility. Accessibility is not an optional feature; it is a measure of a society’s moral maturity.
Public transport remains the backbone of mobility for the majority of Sri Lankans. Buses and trains carry millions of passengers daily, yet the system is undermined by fragmentation and outdated operational models. Private buses compete aggressively for passengers, SLTB struggles with limited resources, and rail serv
ices are hampered by ageing infrastructure. A peoplefriendly system requires a shift from competition to coordination. Instead of treating each bus owner as an independent entrepreneur, Sri Lanka must adopt a unified service model in which routes, schedules, and standards are centrally planned. Operators should be paid for service quality rather than passenger volume, eliminating the reckless race for passengers and ensuring that socially necessary routes are maintained even if they are not profitable.
Railway underutilised
The railway system, though historically significant, remains underutilised. Modernising key commuter corridors, upgrading signalling, improving rolling stock, and integrating bus services with rail stations can transform the railway into a reliable, highcapacity alternative to private vehicles. When trains run frequently, on time, and in coordination with buses, they become not only a mode of transport but a catalyst for economic development and urban regeneration. The potential is enormous; what is lacking is a coherent strategy and sustained investment.
A peoplefriendly system must also begin at the most basic level: the street. Walking is the most fundamental mode of transport, yet Sri Lanka’s urban and semiurban areas often treat pedestrians as afterthoughts. Sidewalks are narrow, broken, or non-existent. Crossings are dangerous. Shade is scarce. A humane transport system must reclaim the street as a shared space where pedestrians are respected. Continuous, wellmaintained sidewalks, safe crossings near schools and hospitals, shaded walkways, and trafficcalmed residential zones are essential. When walking becomes safe and pleasant, it reduces the need for short vehicle trips, eases congestion, and improves public health.
Cycling in mobility ecosystem
Cycling, too, deserves a place in the mobility ecosystem. Although not everyone will cycle, those who do reduce pressure on roads and public transport. In cities like Colombo, Kandy, Galle, and Jaffna, even a modest network of protected cycling lanes can encourage more people to choose bicycles for short trips. Cycling infrastructure is relatively inexpensive compared to road widening or flyovers, yet its social and environmental benefits are substantial. A peoplefriendly system recognises that mobility is not only about speed but about choice, and cycling expands the range of choices available to citizens.
Governance is perhaps the most overlooked dimension of transport reform. Sri Lanka’s current system is characterised by institutional fragmentation: the national ministry, provincial councils, local authorities, the police, SLTB, private operators, and various regulatory bodies all play roles, often without coordination. A peoplefriendly system requires a single, empowered regional transport authority for major urban areas—especially the Western Province—that can plan, regulate, contract, and monitor all modes of transport. Such an authority must be insulated from political interference, guided by data, and accountable to the public. Without coherent governance, even the best-designed policies will fail.
Technology can support this transformation, but it must serve people rather than dictate their behaviour. Integrated ticketing systems that allow passengers to use a single card or QR code across buses and trains reduce friction and make transfers seamless. Realtime information through apps, SMS, and digital displays reduces uncertainty and improves the perceived quality of service. Open data policies allow universities, startups, and civil society to analyse performance and propose improvements. Technology should not be a shiny distraction but a tool that enhances reliability, transparency, and user experience.
Cultural change is equally important. Sri Lanka’s transport culture is shaped by impatience, competition, and a sense of individual survival on the road. Changing this culture requires education, enforcement, and the redesign of physical spaces to encourage cooperation rather than conflict. When roads are designed to slow vehicles, when public transport is reliable, when pedestrians are protected, and when drivers are trained and held accountable, behaviour begins to change. Culture follows structure; people behave differently when the environment supports different behaviours.
Economic sustainability
Economic sustainability is another essential pillar. Public transport cannot rely solely on fare revenue; it requires stable, predictable funding. This can come from a mix of government budgets, modest fuel or parking charges, and land value capture around major stations. When public transport improves, land values rise; capturing a portion of this increase allows the system to fund itself sustainably. A peoplefriendly system is therefore not only socially just but economically rational.
Transforming Sri Lanka’s transport system will require a phased, realistic approach. Quick improvements—such as enforcing speed limits, repairing sidewalks near schools, improving lighting at stations, and piloting unified bus contracts—can build public trust. Mediumterm reforms—such as establishing regional transport authorities, modernising rail corridors, and implementing integrated ticketing—create structural change. Longterm goals—such as nationwide integration, transitoriented development, and sustained reductions in road deaths—require patience and political commitment. A peoplefriendly system is not built overnight; it is built through consistent, incremental progress guided by a clear vision.
Ultimately, the question of transport is a question of what kind of society Sri Lanka aspires to be. A society that values human dignity will design systems that protect and empower people. A society that values time will create reliable, efficient services. A society that values equality will ensure that mobility is not a privilege but a right. A peoplefriendly transport system is, therefore, not merely an engineering project but a moral project. It reflects a belief that every person—whether a schoolchild in Monaragala, a garment worker in Katunayake, an elder in Kurunegala, or a commuter in Colombo—deserves to move through the country safely, comfortably, and with dignity.
SL at a crossroads
Sri Lanka stands at a crossroads. The old model of endless road widening, unregulated competition, and privatevehicle dominance has reached its limits. Congestion grows, pollution worsens, and the social costs of unsafe roads continue to mount. The alternative is not a utopian dream, but a practical, achievable vision grounded in global best practices and local realities. It is a vision in which buses and trains form an integrated network; in which walking and cycling are safe and pleasant; in which women and children travel without fear; in which rural communities remain connected; and in which the daily journey becomes not a burden but a reflection of a society that values its people.
We urge the Minister of Transport to give urgent attention to the insights shared here and the historical precedents of Colombo’s transit system. It is vital that the Ministry recognises the transition from a once-functional electrified network to our current oil-dependent gridlock as a call to action. By prioritising the revitalisation of high-capacity, integrated, sustainable public transport, the government can directly address the unnecessary fuel waste and economic drain that currently burden the nation, and make the system a passenger friendly system.
by Professor M.W. Amarasiri de Silva
Features
Trincomalee oil tank farm: An engineering marvel
The ownership of Trincomalee port was highly contested by the Dutch, French and British as Gateway to Bay of Bengal in 1700s and 1800s. The famous seafarer Vice Admiral Horatio Nelson, as a fleet Midshipman (trainee Naval officer) on board HMS Seahorse, in 1775, wrote in his journal “Trincomalee is the Finest Natural Harbour in the World”.
What Lord Nelson realised as a Midshipman was the immense Strategic, Natural and Commercial value of the port, considered as one of the deepest natural Harbours in the World.
Vice Admiral Sir Edward Hughes (British Royal Navy) and Vice Admiral Bailli De Suffern (French Navy) had sea battles to take control of Trincomalee from 25th August to 3rd September 1782.
French Forces attempted to capture Trincomalee on 30th August 1782, for supremacy in India and Ceylon (Sri Lanka) Eastern Coast, which prompted the Royal Navy to come into action. Even though both fleets had heavy casualties (British – 51 killed, 283 wounded. French – 82 killed, 255 Wounded), but no ships were lost.
The British captured Trincomalee on 31st August 1795 from the Dutch after taking over Fort Ostenburg.
It is interesting to note Famous Admiral Lord Nelson and Trincomalee have a special connection. One of the Ships built after the death of Admiral Nelson in 1805 was named HMS Trincomalee; it was built in 1812. HMS Trincomalee is still active; it was restored and is now the National Museum of the Royal Navy at Hartlepool, England.
The US National Anthem “The Star- spangled Banner “was written by Francis Scott Key on 14th September 1814, onboard a truce ship at Baltimore harbour, Maryland, USA! It is pertinent to note that Sri Lanka Navy’s latest addition, ex-US Coast Guard Ship DECISIVE (P 628) started her 14,775 nautical miles journey, longest journey by a Sri Lanka Navy Ship, was from Baltimore to Colombo/ Trincomalee, as explained in my previous article.
Trincomalee was under British rule for a very long time. Their fleet was stationed in Trincomalee and the British developed Trincomalee into a major ship repair and logistical facility for their ships. Larger War ships, like Aircraft Carriers, Destroyers and Frigates, were stationed at Trincomalee.
During the 1930s, the British realised that there should be an Energy Storage facility between Oil fields of Saudi Arabia/ Arabian Gulf and Far East Asia, and designed and built a huge Oil Storage Facility at Trincomalee. The word HUGE is appropriate; as they built 100 tanks, each tank can contain ten thousand (10,000) MT of oil. So, an oil tank farm with a capacity of one million metric tons (one BILLION LITERS) was commissioned by 1935. As per their estimates at that time, the strategic oil stocks in Trincomalee were sufficient for their fleet for more than six months! Every country has Strategic Oil reserves except Sri Lanka! Even India stored part of their Strategic Oil Reserve at Trincomalee with the Indian Oil Company.
Building of tanks was a major engineering project; it was an ENGINEERING MARVEL in the 1930s!
Four-inch thick best quality Manchester Steel was used to build these tanks. Each plate is hand-riveted. They were built in such a way that if one tank caught fire, the fire would not spread to others. Pipe lines are connecting all tanks, which could be isolated or interconnected. The “TANK FARM “IS IN TWO SECTIONS – Lower tanks (numbering 39) closer to sea and Jetty (known as Oiling jetty) and Upper tanks on the hillock numbering 61 tanks. The Lower tank farm tanks, closer to the sea, were covered with thick concrete walls, to avoid attack by enemy small raid groups.
Huge Pump house, with very powerful pumps, was installed to pump oil to Upper tanks.All this happened almost 100 years ago!
As advancement of Imperial Japanese Army on the Asian Front and German Forces advancement on the Western Front was stopped by Allied forces in 1944/45 and World War Two ended earlier than anticipated due to US Atomic bombing of Japan. Trinco tanks were not fully utilised.
However, the British knew the importance of the Trincomalee harbour.
When we got Independence in 1948, we signed a Defence Pact with the British so that they could retain control of Trincomalee harbour, the oil tank farm and the China bay airfield.
It was on 15 October 1957, the British handed over the Trincomalee port. The then Prime Minister S W R D Bandaranaike was the Chief Guest at the event and the Royal Ceylon Navy Guard of Honour, commanded by Lieutenant Basil Gunasekara, proudly presented the salute to the Prime Minister. After a long time, the the Royal Navy Ensign (flag) was lowered at Trincomalee Naval Base and the Royal Ceylon Navy flag was hoisted. A plaque, erected near the Trincomalee Naval, has information about this historic occasion. The British ultimately left our shores almost after 162 years – (1795 to 1957).
In the 1987 Indo- Sri Lanka Accord, we agreed to develop the Trincomalee Oil Tank farm jointly with the Indian government. Later on, in the Lower tank farm, we gave 14 tanks to Indian Oil Company (IOC) and 24 tanks to the Ceylon Petroleum Company (CPC).
In January 2022, the remaining 61 tanks in the Upper tank farm were allocated for a CPC- IOC joint venture (51:49 shares) and the Managing Director of CPC was appointed the Chairman of this joint venture and CEO of Lanka IOC as Managing Director of the new company. Initially, Rs 100 million (51 million from CPC and 49 million from IOC) was allocated for renovation and development of these 61 tanks on the Upper tank farm. Feasibility study was done by a renowned international company. 
I worked voluntarily as the Chairman of Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd., (TPTL) for six months in 2023. It was fascinating to work in Trincomalee, where I spent most of my Naval career.
The present situation in the World has proved what the British thought almost 100 years ago is even valid today!
As per my information, Lanka IOC uses all its tanks to store fuel and sometimes do offshore bunkering of ships also. It built TWO MORE NEW TANKS and they have 16 tanks now. All are operational.
The CPC tanks remain unused except three leased to Prima Flour Mills Ltd., for storing fresh water.
The Upper tank farm is being renovated at a very slow pace. Out of 61 tanks on the Upper tank farm, tank No 91 was destroyed during World War II due to Japanese aircraft bombing. There is no tank number 99! (The British also thought 99 was a bad number?). Instead, we have number 101! Tank number 102 is partly built at the top of the hillock! So, that means the British had ideas of expanding tank farms BEYOND 100 TANKS!
The Election Manifesto of the National People’s Front, led by President Anura Kumara Dissanayake, clearly stated that “Trincomalee Oil Tank Farm will be renovated with support of a friendly Foreign County”.
At least now, we should start it without further delay. As a former Chief of Naval Staff of India told me “Ravi, you are sitting on a GOLD MINE at the Trincomalee Naval Base; without realising the value of it”! How true!
By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defence Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan
Features
The scientist who was finally heard
Dr Asha de Vos PhD: A Sri Lankan voice that reshaped Global Marine Science
Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow, Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka.
At a recent United Nations (UN) event marking International Women’s Day, a striking portrait of a Sri Lankan lady scientist appeared on the screen, alongside a simple but powerful declaration: “They told me I was not capable – so I made a discovery that changed the world.”
The scientist was Dr Asha de Vos. For many Sri Lankans, this moment passed with little notice, confined to a brief news item in the newspapers. Yet for all that, in that global forum, her presence represented something far greater than personal recognition. It marked the arrival of a Sri Lankan scientist on the world stage, not as a participant, but as a pioneer.
A Discovery that Challenged a Conventional Precept
For decades, marine biology held a well-settled view: blue whales, the largest of mammals, in fact, the largest animals ever to have lived, are migratory. This assumption was repeated in textbooks, scientific articles, and accepted without question.
Dr Asha de Vos challenged it. Working in the waters off Sri Lanka, often with limited resources and without the extensive institutional backing available in more developed research environments, she identified a population of blue whales that does not migrate. These whales remain in Sri Lankan waters throughout the year.
This finding was not just an accident, a chance occurrence, nor an incidental observation. It was a carefully orchestrated scientific expedition that overturned a fundamental assumption about one of the most studied animal species on Earth. In doing so, it reminded the scientific world of an essential truth: that knowledge is never complete, and that even the largest creatures in the oceans can still hold secrets. It showed that such secrets of behaviour that were detected can have a profound impact on the aftermath, as far as the world is concerned.
Global Consequences of a Local Discovery
The implications of this work extended far beyond academic debate. A non-migratory population of blue whales is inherently vulnerable. Concentrated in a relatively small geographic area, these animals face risks that migratory populations can avoid.
The waters off Sri Lanka are among the busiest shipping routes in the world. Large vessels pass through areas that coincide with whale habitats, creating a significant risk of fatal collisions. Dr de Vos’s research brought international attention to this issue. It contributed to changes in shipping practices, including the adjustment of routes and the introduction of measures aimed at reducing whale-ship strikes of blue whales. In this way, her work moved beyond theory to influence real-world policy and conservation efforts.
Science Rooted in Sri Lanka
Equally significant is the context in which this work was carried out. Dr de Vos has consistently advocated for the leadership of local scientists in studying local ecosystems. Her position challenged the long-standing pattern where research in developing regions is often led by external actors. Quite appropriately and most beautifully, she describes the phenomenon as “parachute science”, the practice of Western Scientists collecting data in developing countries and then leaving without training or investing in the locals or the region.
To address this imbalance, she founded Oceanswell, Sri Lanka’s first marine conservation research and education organisation. Through this initiative, she has worked to build local capacity, inspire young researchers, and promote a deeper understanding of marine ecosystems. Her work has demonstrated that world-class science can emerge from a little country like Sri Lanka, not as an extension of external efforts, but as an independent and authoritative effort.
A Journey of Determination
Those widely quoted words attributed to Dr Asha de Vos are not mere rhetoric. They reflect the reality of a journey marked by doubt, resistance, and the challenge of pursuing an unconventional path. Marine biology was not an established field in Sri Lanka when she began her career. Opportunities were limited, and the path was uncertain. Yet, through persistence and conviction, she transformed these limitations into magnificent opportunities.
Dr de Vos has always dreamed of being an “adventure-scientist”. Her achievements include being the first and only Sri Lankan to obtain a PhD in marine mammal research, a distinction that underscores both her pioneering role and the barriers she has overcome. Today, Dr. de Vos is recognised internationally as a leading voice in marine conservation. Her work is cited in scientific literature, her insights are sought in policy discussions, and her presence is felt in global forums. The recognition she received at the United Nations is just one reflection of this standing.
However, her significance to Sri Lanka extends beyond her scientific contributions. She graphically represents the potential of Sri Lankan scholarship. She illustrates what can be achieved through determination and intellectual rigour. The lady serves as an inspiration to a new generation of scientists who may choose to follow paths that are not yet well defined.
A Moment That Should Not Pass Unnoticed
That such an achievement received only limited attention locally is a matter for reflection. Nations are often judged not only by the accomplishments of their citizens, but by the ability of those very same nations to recognise and celebrate them.
Dr Asha de Vos’s work has altered global understanding, influenced international policy, and established a new field of scientific inquiry within Sri Lanka. These are not minor achievements of limited consequence. They are contributions of lasting, immense, and seminal significance.
The image displayed at the United Nations, accompanied by a single sentence, captured a story of perseverance and discovery. It spoke of a brilliant scientist who refused to accept limitations imposed by others. It told of a discovery that reshaped certain types of scientific understanding. It brought to light a voice that, though once doubted, is now heard across the world. It is a voice that our beautiful Pearl of the Indian Ocean would do ever so well to listen to.
This author has not had the honour or the privilege of even meeting Dr Asha de Vos, but is so very pleased to declare that all of us should be so proud of a Sri Lankan Lady Scientist who is recognised, acknowledged and celebrated by the entire scientific world.
We salute you, Madam, for all of your splendid achievements!
Dr B. J. C. Perera
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