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The legendary Victor Dhanapala: was priceless Burmese gem root of his fortune?

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by ECB Wijeyasinghe

One of the sights of London has disappeared with the death of Charles Victor Dhanapala, perhaps the best-known Ceylonese in international art and literary circles.He has been called the glamour boy of the Eastern world. But he was more than that. He was a legend. The other famous Dhanapala, the journalist, once described him as a combination of Krishnamurti, Arabindo Ghose and Meher Baba. I should add to this permutation the names of Sai Baba, the Gaekwar of Baroda and Caliph Haroun Al-Raschid. The picture would then be fairly complete.

He lived like a Middle Eastern potentate who had just stepped out of the pages of the Arabian Nights and established a community of females who ate out of his hands. To return the compliment, he ate out of theirs. Both ways the food was delicious and it provided nourishment for the body as well as the soul.

The remarkable thing about this extraordinary man was that though he was surrounded night and day by a bevy of beautiful and brainy women, the breath of scandal never touched him. For one thing, there was no coquetry in the community. In the luxury of his wall-to-wall carpeted London flat one came across some of the bluest bloods in England and India. There they sat at the feet of the Master, listening patiently as if he were the last word on every conceivable subject.

HYPNOSIS

Victor Dhanapala acted in loco parentis to all these bewildered beauties who implored his help and sought his sanctum like helpless orphans. The magic of Mesmer was trifling compared to the hypnotic influence he wielded on them. In a crowd that cried out for a Mother Superior he was like a Father Abbot, hearing their confessions and giving them absolution from their peccadilloes provided they stayed put in his sanctuary.

For the fact of the matter is that his Mongolian cast of features gave him some claim to behave like an Eastern divinity that shaped their ends though they came from the four corners of the globe. Like many another architect of his own fate, Victor Dhanapala was of mixes descent. His father was a prosperous Sinhalese photographer named Charles William de Silva who had a studio in Maradana But his mother was a pretty Burmese lady with wealthy relatives in Rangoon and Moulmein.

When William first set eyes on her he was instantly attracted by her charming ways. Later, when he heard of her affluent connections, William was supposed to have said that she was more beautiful than the Shwe Dagon Pagoda. In order to get a better perspective of this beauty from Burma, William married her and Victor, this Child of Destiny was one of the results of the union.

Incidentally, when Victor’s lively sister met her cousin, my old friend, Austin de Silva a Lake House connection was also established. Austin and his wife were a quiet, domesticated, even religious couple. Victor and his sister were, therefore poles apart in their approach to life. I must add that Austin de Silva who died some months ago was one of the most conscientious journalists that ever held sub-editor’s blue pencil either in the “Observer” or the “Daily News”. He also edited a glossy magazine called “World Buddhism” which had a wide circulation and earned him a reputation for thoroughness outside our borders.

A man of abstemious habits Austin was often the only sober person at the tail end of a cocktail party. In many ways he reminded me of Capt. Von Trapp in “The Sound of Music”. He brought up his five sturdy sons strictly according to the ‘pancha sila’ code. As a result, not one of them became a journalist. Austin’s wife Dow Lambart and her brother Victor, however had one thing in common. Both of them could turn out the most exotic Burmese dishes at short notice and make a dinner date with them a memorable event.

I saw Victor Dhanapala for the first time about 30 years ago in the Sundae Tea Room in the company of Herbert Hulugalle and D. B. Dhanapala, and heard with bated breath the Master reducing to silence almost everybody round him. The confrontation between the two Dhanapalas was very amusing especially as Hulugalle acted as a sort of catalytic agent. The funny thing about the episode was that while both of them were making wise-cracks about each other’s surnames, neither of them was born a Dhanapala. In fact both of them were de Silvan (no kin) and chose the cognomen Dhanapala as a lucky passport to immortality.

No restaurant could possibly match the fare that was served up at Victor Dhanapala’s luxurious London flat. Nobody ever refused the Master’s invitations to dinner. They were more or less, command performances. Foreign visitors who were treated to the purple mangosteens from Kalutara and the scarlet rambutans from Malwana were given special tuition in the art of tackling these tricky fruits.

Mangoes were easier. Victor it is said, used to describe them as the food of the gods. Therefore there were always plenty of them on his table, in and out of season. Ask those who have enjoyed his hospitality whether they have experienced anything like it before and the answer will be a resounding ‘no’. Ask Sir John Kotelawala, Sir Oliver Goonetilleke, Herbert Hulugalle or any other celebrity who has dined and wined in the stately homes in Europe whether they had been entertained so lavishly anywhere else and they will reply in superlatives about Victor that border on Oriental hyperbole.

SECRET

After the sumptuous meal would come the talk which might be interrupted by a telephone call from Noel Coward, or even Bernard Shaw if he were in town. Other blithe spirits might intervene on the phone, but the important thing is that they were not imaginary characters but genuine callers who yearned to eat once again at his mirrored table or to sip exotic liqueurs out of tiny cut-glass vessels.

Nobody has yet probed the secret of Dhanapala’s enormous wealth. There were rumours that a wealthy aunt in Burma had left him a priceless gem which he converted into cash in Hatton Garden. Otherwise it is difficult to believe that by the ordinary processes, so much money could have been made so fast. The gem, provided a simple answer to the complex riddle of this Modern Sphinx.

How females of the intellectual calibre and social standing of Elizabeth Sellars, Betty Frames, Jeanne Hardwicke and Kamila Tyabji came under his spell is another phenomenon for which no explanation can be given.

Look at the quality of these girls: Elizabeth Sellars was one of the highest paid stars of the London stage. Betty Frames had a big share in Thomas, Cook and Sons plus a tourist agency of her own.Jeanne Hardwicke was a niece of Sir Cedric Hardwicke and a rising stage and screen star. Kamila Tyabji, a granddaughter of the first Muslim to be made a High Court Judge in India, was a brilliant lawyer whose triumphs in the Privy Council created a sensation in London.

Of such stuff were the disciples made. What could then be said of the Master, always immaculately dressed who has passed into the shadows after nearly half a century of fabulous living. Let the soft music with which he welcomed his guests be amplified for once to give body to the words of Thomas Mordaunt who wrote as if he had Victor Dhanapala in mind: Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife, Throughout the sensual world proclaim, One crowded hour of glorious life, Is worth an age without a name.

(Excerpted from The Good Among The Best first published in 1978)



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Features

‘Lord Edgware Dies’

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It has been some time since I read an Agatha Christie, the plot of which I cannot remember. So, I was delighted to find on the shelves of a friend Lord Edgware Dies, which I had a vague memory of, but no certainty about who had done it.

When I read it, I found that my memory of who was probably the killer was correct, but I could not be certain and the red herrings Christie threw in were so diverting that until almost the very end I wondered if I had been wrong.

The plot is very simple. Jane Wilkinson, who is married to Lord Edgware, tells him that she is desperate for a divorce since she is in love with a very proper Anglo-Catholic peer, Lord Melton, but Edgware refuses to divorce her. She asks Poirot to talk to him, which he does, and is surprised to find that Edgware has told Jane he is prepared to give her a divorce. This was, after he had categorically refused, through a letter, which Jane said she had not received.

That night Edgware is murdered, after Jane had been to see him, or so the butler said, and also Edgware’s secretary. But Jane had been that evening at a grand dinner many miles away, where a dozen fellow guests could swear to her presence.

There was a solution however to the mystery of two Jane Wilkinsons, namely a skilful impersonator called Carlotta Adams who, in the opening chapter had impersonated Jane Wilkinson, who had also been at the performance. But when Poirot goes to see her, he finds that she had been found dead on the morning after Edgware had been killed, of an overdose. And in her bag was a gold case, with a strange inscription, that contained the drug, along with a pair of pince-nez.

Her maid said she had written a letter to her sister in America and posted it the previous night. Poirot asks Inspector Japp to get the letter, and a transcript is received from America, and in it the name of Edgware’s nephew Ronald Marsh is mentioned; he had taken Carlotta to dinner after her performance, with which the book opens, and had then set her a challenge. Japp arrests Marsh, but Poirot is not happy and asks for the original of the letter, which the sister sends him. That shows that a page is missing, and the tear is obvious, though that raises the question as to why it had not simply been cut.

Matters are further complicated by the fact that Marsh had gone in a taxi to the Edgware house, along with Edgware’s daughter Geraldine, in the interval of an opera which had previously seemed to provide them with cast iron alibis. Geraldine had gone in to fetch her pearls so that Marsh could raise money he needed, and thus had an opportunity to kill Edgware, as did Marsh, for the driver said he had got out of the taxi while waiting and gone into the house.

Agatha Christie

Marsh explained why he had gone to the house on the night of the murder as having followed Bryan Martin, an American actor, who had been in love with Jane, whom he saw go into the house with a key. But there was no one visible when he entered, and Geraldine almost immediately came down and they left together. And Martin too has become an object of suspicion to Poirot, for he had been to see him before the murders were discovered with a story of being followed by a man with a gold tooth – a story Poirot immediately realized was false when he was asked how old the man was, and was told he was young, for young people did not have gold teeth.

A heap of French money Edgware had got for a trip to Paris was missing, but since Marsh had no need for it after his cousin’s offer of help, Poirot deduces that it must have been taken by the butler, who has disappeared. Christie has stressed that he is astonishingly handsome, unusual in a butler, and Poirot notes a resemblance to Martin, so he thinks the mysterious man going into the house must have been him.

Incidentally, later Poirot assumes that Edgware’s change of mind was because he was involved in some scandal, and I believe Christie intends us to see the cause of this in his handsome butler, though this is not specified.

Meanwhile, Poirot has asked Japp to find out the provenance of the case found in Carlotta’s handbag, and it turns out to have been made in Paris, specially commissioned, and collected by a woman with pince-nez.

But then another murder occurs—that of another guest at the grand dinner, which provided Jane with her alibi. The victim is an actor who had been bemused when Jane, at a lunch, thought the Judgment of Paris referred to the city. He told Hastings he wanted to see Poirot, but was killed before he could get to the appointment. Poirot had rushed there when told about his request, but it was too late.

Meanwhile, Poirot has tried out the pince-nez on Edgware’s secretary, but she could not see through these. It was only a chance remark heard outside the theatre that led him to try them out on Wilkinson’s maid Ellis, a spare pair that had been appropriated for the night of the murders.

Poirot then lays things out, having summoned Martin and told him that he probably suppressed Edgware’s letter, as he had been dropped by then and he did not want Jane to marry another. But after teasing Martin, Poirot says that Jane was in fact the murderer, and she got Carlotta to impersonate her at the dinner while she went to the house and killed her husband. After meeting Carlotta later and checking with her through a call that she had not been rumbled, Jane had gone ahead with the murder – she put veronal into her drink and the case with veronal into the handbag. She forgot to take out the pince-nez she had used earlier to imitate an American. Carlotta had registered as the American in a hotel and Jane had gone to see her, and there they exchanged identities. After seen the letter, she made use of it by tearing off the page that referred to her, and the S of She, so that the person who had challenged Carlotta to impersonate her seemed to be a man.

There is a coda in which Jane, condemned to death, writes to Hastings, still full of pride at her ingenuity hoping she will be remembered.

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Desilt reservoirs, learn from our ancient irrigation systems

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Polgolla

by Prof. O. A. Ileperuma

Silting of reservoirs is a major problem today affecting our hydropower production and irrigation systems. The main Mahaweli reservoirs are silted to a considerable extent reducing the water holding capacity of them. Due to poor soil management practices, floodwaters deposit large amounts of silt in these reservoirs. When the Polgolla reservoir was fully drained about two years back, one could see mountains of silt in the lower reaches of the reservoir. A rough estimate is that 50% of the total capacity of these reservoirs has been lost to siltation. This is a serious issue which affects not only power and agriculture but also flood control.

Our ancient irrigation systems ensured that desilting of reservoirs took place under royal decree where all users of the reservoirs were ordered to carry out desilting of reservoirs during the dry season. The clay thus collected was used in making bricks for the construction of great stupas which dot the landscape of our ancient kingdoms. This ensured that the reservoirs had their full capacity filled with water for the next cultivating season. Our ancient kings were clever enough not to construct reservoirs by blocking main rivers such as the Mahaweli. A classic example is the Minipe left canal where they tapped only the surface water of Mahaweli. Even the bigger tanks such as Nuwara Wewa and Parakrama Samudraya were fed with minor rivulets. There were also other ingenious features in the cascade irrigation systems built by the ancient kings, such as mud sluice canals and forest reservations between the reservoirs in the cascade system. These reservations helped trap silt and remove excess nutrients, which could otherwise contribute to increasing salinity as water flowed from one reservoir to another.

Victoria

Moragahakanda

A classic engineering marvel is the former Yoda Ela, which carries water from Kalawewa to Nuwara Wewa and Tissa Wewa. It is 87 km long although the straight distance between these points is only about 40 km. The gradient of this canal is about 10 cm per km or 6 inches per mile. Yodha Ela functions as a moving reservoir and feeds about 4,600 hectares of paddy lands. It is a winding canal with about 120 smaller reservoirs on its way. It was constructed during the reign of King Dhatusena around 459 AD and later expanded by King Parakramabahu by connecting more reservoirs to the network. Unfortunately, during the Mahaweli project our modern-day engineers constructed a concrete canal replacing the winding path of this Yoda Ela also called Jaya Ganga. This effectively removed the ability of the old Yoda Ela to remove silt and nutrients. The bank of this Ela has wet zone trees such as jak and areca nut growing well. They take up the nutrients from the flowing stream making the water suitable for irrigation later.

Ancient Mesopotamian civilisations depended on dams constructed along the two main rivers, Euphrates and Tigris. After continuous irrigation of their fields over several thousand years, salinity of the irrigated lands increased making them unsuitable for agriculture. People died due to famine and this clearly illustrates the danger of blocking main rivers for agriculture. There is scientific evidence that the salinity of paddy soils in the Mahaweli C area is increasing.

We saw the devastation caused by Cyclone Ditwah. The sluice gates of the Kotmale Reservoir were opened, and Kandy and Peradeniya were flooded. If the reservoir had had greater storage capacity, couldn’t the opening of the gates have been delayed? This may not be an argument that modern-day engineers would readily accept, and I am not an irrigation expert. These ideas may well be naïve. But most of us tend to think of reservoirs mainly in terms of hydropower generation and irrigation, while their role in flood control receives much less attention. The question therefore deserves serious consideration. Could restoring lost reservoir capacity through desilting help improve our ability to manage extreme rainfall and reduce flood risks?

Desilting our reservoirs should be considered a national priority.

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Losing out to Ethiopia

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From Trailblazer to Tailender

Export diversification – Missing the wood for the trees – Part III

by Gomi Senadhira

In Sri Lanka, the word “Ethiopia” is often used as disparaging slang to describe individuals or areas experiencing extreme poverty, starvation, or severe economic hardship. This linguistic habit originated in the 1980s with the Western media coverage of the devastating Ethiopian famine of 1983-85. That media coverage shocked the world but also left an outdated and offensive global stereotype that the country is permanently starving. Much has changed since then. By now, with an annual growth rate of around 9%, it is the fastest-growing economy in sub-Saharan Africa. Ethiopia has also emerged as a highly competitive exporter and is challenging not only its competitors in the region but also countries like Sri Lanka. This article is on how Sri Lanka has lost ground to Ethiopia (and a few other countries) in the GCC markets for agricultural and floricultural products.

Sri Lanka – A Pioneer in the Agriculture and Floricultural Market in the GCC

As discussed in Part II of this article, by the mid-1980s Sri Lanka had established a strong foothold in the GCC’s fruit, vegetable, and floricultural market. Geographical proximity and well-established shipping and air links gave Sri Lanka a strong comparative advantage over Southeast Asian and African nations. Thailand, Vietnam, and Kenya were not even in the market. At that time, Ethiopia was experiencing (as BBC news reports described) “a biblical famine”.

The market was not very large, but it was lucrative and growing. Trade Minister Lalith Athulathmudali as well as the Chairman of the Export Development Board, Victor Santiapillai, who visited Kuwait (and the GCC countries), recognised the market potential for these products and encouraged us to continue with our work. The minister was particularly keen to further develop links between the market for these products, exporters, and his Export Production Villages (EPVs). So, it was becoming a successful case not only for export diversification but also for transferring gains from exports directly to rural households.

From Trailblazer to Tailender

As a result, even by the beginning of this century Sri Lanka had a larger market share than most of its competitors from Asia or Africa. But since then, our competitiveness has weakened significantly. The tables below provide a comparative snapshot of Sri Lanka’s performance vis-à-vis Thailand, Vietnam, Kenya and Ethiopia in the GCC market for vegetables, fruits and floricultural products. As illustrated therein, in 2001 Sri Lanka was ahead of Thailand, Kenya and Ethiopia in this small but rapidly growing market. Since then, we have fallen behind Thailand, Kenya and many other countries in that lucrative market. If this trend continues, Sri Lanka will fall behind Ethiopia within the next few years. (See Table 1)

In the GCC market for vegetables (covered in HS chapter 07), Sri Lanka was ahead of most other competitors in 2001. As illustrated in Table 1 , Sri Lanka had failed to develop this market, while Thailand, Kenya, and even Ethiopia had very efficiently increased their market shares. The GCC is a market to which Sri Lanka can supply some vegetables, like cabbages, by sea. It appears Sri Lanka had also failed to exploit this mode of supply.

We can see a similar trend in the market for fruits. Vietnam, Kenya, and Thailand have emerged as major players, while exports from Sri Lanka have staggered on slowly. In this segment, Vietnam has emerged as a leading player during the last twenty years and the GCC imports from Viet Nam have shot up from US$44 thousand in 2001 to US$346 million by 2024. In part one of these articles, I discussed the remarkable increase of jackfruit exports from Vietnam “…just $3 million in 2015 to an impressive $236.8 million in 2023” while most of our jackfruit production rots under the trees. This explains how countries develop their markets, geographically and product-wise. (See Table 2)

Sri Lanka’s performance has been weakest in the market for floricultural products (HS Chapter 06), which groups live trees, cut flowers, and ornamental foliage. When we first entered the market in the 1980s, the market was dominated by the Netherlands, and Kenya and Ethiopia were not even in the market. At that time, we identified the Gulf states as a market where Sri Lanka could have a dominant presence due to geographical proximity. Even in 2001, Sri Lanka was ahead of Kenya, Ethiopia, and Thailand. But by now, Kenya has emerged as the dominant supplier. Ethiopia is also expanding its market share and is the third-largest exporter. (See Table 3)

Missing the Wood for the Trees

In the mid-1980s, Sri Lanka first established its foothold in the GCC market. Since then, Thailand, Vietnam, Kenya, and even Ethiopia have moved well ahead of us and have become leading players. Why did we lag behind in our export diversification efforts in general and, more particularly, in the GCC market?

The reasons are very clear. After the initial attempts in the 1980s and early 1990s, Sri Lanka has not been proactively involved in identifying, developing, and promoting new products and markets, or protecting and further developing new markets already established. The focus has simply been on traditional exports: tea, coconut, cinnamon, and garments, while other products were almost ignored. In essence, we have been and continue to focus intensely on a narrow group of products and markets, and we have lost sight of the bigger picture.

(The writer can be reached at senadhiragomi@gmail.com)

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