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The founding of Buddhist Ladies College

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Excerpted from Chosen Ground: The Clara Motwani saga
by Goolbai Gunasekera

When Mother left Musaeus College, it was again because of her displeasure over the Board’s reaction to her dictates. Each side believed the other to be wrong. The story was this.A young girl of the Southern Province had repulsed a night-time intruder by slashing him and almost killing him, (or perhaps she actually did kill him) with a sword which happened to be owned by her father. She became quite a heroine. Those were the days of total non-violence, and the newspapers played up the incident for about a week. When the ‘heroine’ was asked what she would like in recognition of her bravery, she replied that it was her ambition to study at Musaeus College. The School Board decided to grant her request.

She was brought to Colombo by the Manager of the school (who was then Chief Justice of Ceylon, Mr. Hema Basnayake), and eventually sent to the Hostel. She proved to be an abysmal student and never fitted into the atmosphere of Musaeus. After two years of trying to do something with her, Mother felt it was time she left. Accordingly, she sent her back to Mr. Basnayake’s home. He promptly returned her to the hostel.

Feeling that her authority had been flouted in a tactless and arbitrary manner, Mother took issue with the Board. There was no question on whose banner victory would perch, and Mother was asked to leave. She was not given the option of resigning, and I have often wondered what could have caused seemingly educated men to behave so unceremoniously towards a person as gentle as Mother.

Of course it would be foolish to assume that this minor disagreement caused her dismissal. It was actually the straw that broke the camel’s back. Disagreement had been simmering for quite a while. Mother did not enjoy having the Board breathing down her neck at all times and countermanding orders which she felt were necessary to give.

The inability of the School Board to deal with strong Principals was noticed a few years after Mother left when yet another highly popular Principal, Mrs. Dulcie de Silva, was arbitrarily sacked . Dulcie did not accept her unfair dismissal gracefully. She fought back.

Su and I felt that Mother’s American attitudes did not work in her favour when dealing with Asian men who expected a docility from women which Mother just did not have. As far as personal relationships went Mother was totally non-combative, but in school she could be almost authoritarian. She could have got whatever she wanted had she approached the gentlemen of the Board in the customary oblique fashion of Sri Lankan ladies. Her American directness was not a quality those in authority over her appreciated.

Mother’s dismissal caused a reaction that the Musaeus College Board had not foreseen: the entire school went on strike. It made headline news in the papers. Reading of these exciting goings-on, Mr. Mohandas de Mel, an affluent lawyer from Avissawella, decided the time was ripe to fulfil a dream of his own. He got in touch with Mother – and a new school was born.

It was April when Mother ended her days as Principal of Musaeus. In May of the same year, Buddhist Ladies’ College opened. I was away in University at the time but I was told that BLC, the new, fledgling school, opened with nearly 400 girls on the Registers while Musaeus had an extremely depleted student body for a short while.

There was scarcely a hiccup between Mother’s leaving Musaeus one month, and beginning a brand-new school the very next month. It was a time of frenzied activity and excitement. Buildings had to be bought, furniture ordered, the entire hostel organized and playing fields got ready. The fact that everything was ready in a country like ours, where ‘tomorrow’ is an accepted norm of work, says much for the energy of Mr. de Mel and Mother.

But there was another factor – an unexpected factor – that played an important part in the founding of this new school. Upon Mother’s summary dismissal, outraged parents with children at Musaeus voiced their protests, but to no avail. Several hundred students camped in front of the home of the Manager, Mr. Basnayake, whereupon he locked the door on them, refusing to change his decree.

Parents then took the drastic step of removing their children from a well-established school to install them in a new and untried school of which Mother was the Head. The parental trust in Mother that was evidenced in this way was almost humbling to her. Certainly she was touched to the heart. Teachers followed suit: they gave up regular jobs without even seeing their new contracts, such was the affection and confidence Mother inspired.

Mr. Gunasena de Zoysa, civil servant and later Sri Lanka’s High Commissioner in Britain, was a parent whose daughter, Ranji, was thus transferred. Srikanthi Salgado, daughter of the Director of the Coconut Research Institute, was similarly transferred. Musaeus opened the following term with one eighth of its former student strength. Children were removed from Musaeus overnight. Sunila, wife of Tilak de Zoysa, Deputy Chairman and Managing Director of Associated Motor Ways (AMW), says she remembers her father scooping her out of bed in the Musaeus hostel, saying: “You are going to Mrs. Motwani’s new school!”

For this mass withdrawal of students from Musaeus, the Head Girl of that school, Lalitha Thilakasena (now Gunawardena, and also a professor at one of one of the Sri Lankan universities) was responsible. She spoke so persuasively at meetings of the parents and students that she pretty much led the cross-over. Mother was unaware of all these meetings and organized protests until the shifting student population began registering at Buddhist Ladies’ College. Naturally, Lalitha continued her Head Girlship in the new school without a break, and entered the University of Ceylon at Peradeniya in a blaze of glory.

To the fury of the Musaeus Board of that era, Buddhist Ladies’ was a full blown school from day one. Thankfully, attitudes have since changed. Today’s Chairman, Mr. Ajitha de Zoysa, has no recollection of that time at all – hardly surprising, since he must have been barely out of diapers himself!

So life at BLC began…

One incident springs to mind. Just round the corner from BLC was ‘Bake House’ a popular bakery that had the creamiest eclairs and the softest bread to be found in Colombo. Hostellers of schools were not allowed to go outside the school unaccompanied, so no one would dream of asking if they could run up the road for an ice cream at Bake House. As far as Mother was aware, no one in the school boarding would dare to ask permission for such an unlikely jaunt.

One evening, the Prefects of the school decided that they would really live life on the edge. They planned to visit ‘Bake House’, timing their expedition for an evening when Mrs. Blake, the Hostel Matron, had her weekly day off, and Mother had left the school for home. Feeling terribly adventurous, the group had a great time. They ate all they possibly could, and got back to the hostel over a conveniently low section of the surrounding wall. Alack and alas, they were spotted by a neighbour who decided to alert Mother.

The next day Mother summoned her Head Girl, one of BLC’s most popular senior Prefects, Janeswari Wijesekera.

“Janeswari,” she said while Janeswari trembled, “is what I hear true?”

“No, Mrs. Motwani,” Janeswari replied, but she looked so guilty that Mother needed no further evidence.Mother looked Janeswari straight in the eye.

“If you tell me you did not break out of the hostel last night,” she said, “I will believe you, and I will drop the matter.”

Quaking, Janeswari gave her word that she and the other Prefects had been safely within the enveloping wall of BLC all evening. Mother let her go.

For the rest of the day and the whole of the next, Janeswari was the sorriest being ever to walk the corridors of BLC. Finally she could bear it no longer. On the third day, she was waiting in Mother’s office to confess. Pleased that her faith in Janeswari had been vindicated, Mother said no more about the matter to anyone outside the Prefect body, but to this day Janeswari and the Prefects remember what Mother said to them that day.

“I tried never to lie about things like that again,” she told me recently.

The morale of the new school was high, and a spirit of closeness and camaraderie pervaded it that touched the entire student and teacher body. There was a kind of pioneering air about the whole experience, which I personally found quite heady when I returned from University two years later to be a teacher myself in Mother’s new school.

The founding of BLC is something that those who were actually the pioneering teachers and students of the school never forgot. Years later, in far away America, I would meet middle-aged ladies who would say to me with a distant look in their eyes and pride in their voices;

“I was one of those who crossed over with Mrs. Motwani.”

Mother now set about turning this new school into as fine an institution as she could. Mr. de Mel had leased “Calverly”, a large property belonging to the Virasinghe family. Classrooms were soon built, and Mother began the Lady Irwin Home Science course, which was a usual feature of any school she happened to be heading.

The Buddhist Ladies’ hostel was governed with a stern but extremely kind hand. Mrs. Blake, a smart and highly efficient Matron, came to Mother at a time when she was most needed.

“I really do not know how I could have managed without her,” Mother used to say.The boarders had a great time, with Matron turning a blind eye to midnight feasts and all the other things hostelers dream up during the day.

Sriya Radalgoda, a former pupil of Musaeus, was Mother’s secretary at BLC, and had the responsibility of dealing with correspondence in the new school. She spent many agonized moments trying to comprehend Mother’s tendency to elide certain vowels. ‘Turret Road’, for instance, became ‘Trrt Road’, and poor Sriya had not the vaguest idea what Mother meant. She came to me for clarification.

“Just add vowels of your own and you’ll be just fine,” I told her, and presumably she managed.

Since Su had opted to go to Lady Irwin for her Home Science degree, Mother was able to keep an eye on her doings in New Delhi. Examiners were coming out annually to Sri Lanka from Lady Irwin College, to check the course work of the BLC entrants and also to hold the Home Science exams. Su was not happy with this personal relationship her mother had with her university.

Su collected boyfriends as some people collect books. She always managed to come up smelling of roses even when two hot-headed Arab students tried to scale the walls at Lady Irwin one memorable night, in the hope of seeing her. Su just disclaimed all knowledge of them and their questionable passion, although she privately told me, her envious sister, that the young men in question were ‘absolutely cute’. They were deported by the way.

At Lady Irwin with Su were several other Sri Lankans. One was Vinita Warasuvitharna (now Gunaratne) a shining light of the College, and Chitra Kanadavanam, with whom I have lost touch.

On one never-to-be-forgotten occasion, Su’s luck deserted her. As usual she got into trouble over some young man. My parents heard about it and made agitated calls to Sir Richard Aluvihare, our High Commissioner in Delhi. Poor Sir Richard had no idea that Father expected him to keep a beady eye on Su. The earlier High Commissioner, Sir Edwin Wijeyaratne, was a friend of the family, and his wife often had Su over for tea. Su spoke beautiful Sinhala and Lady Wijeyaratne enjoyed talking to her. She would send glowing reports to Father on Su’s progress though, how she knew what was happening at Lady Irwin was obviously what Su felt was on a need-to-know basis only.

Su was finally returned to the bosom of her enraged family as insouciant as always and quite impenitent.

“What can I do if I’m pretty, and boys like me?” she asked airily.

Father was speechless. Mother was more understanding with her independent and unconventional daughter.

At BLC, I began my own teaching career. Armed with a brand-new degree, I thought I knew all there was to know about teaching. Mother disabused me of that idea soon enough. Truth to tell, I could not have had a better start to what eventually became a full-time career for me. It is one of my lasting sorrows that Mother never saw the building of the Asian International School by its Founder/ Chairman, Mr. W P. Perera. She would have been so proud, and her praise would have been sweet indeed: all the more so because she had not greeted my choice of a teaching career with enthusiasm.

She expected her teachers to be like Chandra Godakumbure or Dr. Dharma Ponnusamy — dedicated, thoroughly versed in the subjects they taught, and willing to work far beyond the call of duty. She did not quite see me bathed in this rosy aura. She told me (very unenthusiastically) that she would give me a try.

“I really don’t see why you seem so doubtful, Mother. I’m a chip off the old block…..both of them,” i would boast.

“You’ll need to be more than just a chip darling. If you don’t want to incur criticism and even critical comparisons, you will need to be a fully hewn model from the old blocks.” Guardedly, she gave me a job, starting with English teaching in Grade Six.

As the daughter of the BLC Principal, I was given a far heavier timetable than my contemporaries. I was rarely allowed any medical leave. “Take an aspirin and get to school,” was all the comfort I got, even when I really did have a temperature. On the day I got engaged to my husband ‘Bunchy’, Mother graciously granted me the last two periods of the day off. I might say that in those less stressful times the average teacher got at least two days off on her engagement, and a further ten days in which to get married and go on her honeymoon.

Predictably, Mother saw to it that I married in December … a holiday month. Not only was no leave needed, but I did not need to honeymoon on school time. Finding an auspicious time for the wedding was not on Mother’s agenda.



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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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