Features

The Popular Sinhala Cinema : Rukmani Devi; Mohideen Baig ; Gamini Fonseka

Published

3 years ago

2023/05/19

by Laleen Jayamanne

Rukmani Devi, the first star of the Sinhala cinema and incomparable singer with a unique voice, originally known as Daisy Rasamma Daniel, was a Tamil Christian. It was well known that she couldn’t read or write Sinhala and that her dialogue and lyrics were written in English. Al-Haj Mohideen Baig, who sang some of the most cherished, perennial popular Sinhala film songs (including Budhu Gee), wrote down the Sinhala lyrics in his mother tongue, Urdu. The multilingual Mohideen Baig came to Lanka in 1932 for his brother’s funeral and stayed on. With the guidance of Mohammed Gauss at Columbia records, he began singing on radio soon after. In India he had sung Ghazals in Urdu in his village Salem and also Hindi and Tamil songs.

Once film production began in Lanka, he had a long career as a backup singer, starting with Asokamala (1947). His powerful, textured voice was unique just like Rukmani Devi’s, which made their songs immensely popular. Also, he acted as a beggar in Sujatha (53), walking across landscapes, singing melancholy shoka gee, commenting on the action. His love songs with Rukmani Devi are some of the most heartfelt songs of longing (viraha), in films like Nalagana (1960), which I heard as a child, at the proletarian Gamini theatre Maradana, where their songs blared out vibrating the small theatre and our hearts. Listening to the songs now on YouTube, those memories flood my thoughts (as I write), as only music can, though the films themselves are a faint memory. Gamini was among several Tamil owned cinemas burned down in July 83 race riots.

Here, I wish focus on Rukmani Devi and Baig Master’s careers within the multi-ethnic composition of the Lankan film industry. Gamini Fonseka will make a guest appearance here as a trilingual Sinhala star who built a Tamil fan base. I examine the period from Rukmani Devi’s starring role in the very first Sinhala film Kadawuna Produwa (Broken Promise) in 1947, going beyond her accidental tragic death in 1978, to the murdering of the director K. Vanket in July 83, and concluding with the assassination of the pioneering film producer and entrepreneur, K. Gunaratnam in 1989, by a JVP gunman.

I do this so as to understand anew the cultural value of the early Lankan hybrid popular cinema and its cross-cultural heritage of songs, its multi-ethnic history, through reading and listening carefully to several of its most ardent cinephiles and researchers. They are a group of older, now retired journalists who are in fact the first generation of Sinhala cinephiles and writers of the Lankan cinema, such as A.D. Ranjith Kumara, Sunil Mihindukula former editors of Saraswiya, Ranjan de Silva, Ananda Padmasiri and Ariyasiri Withanage, who have conducted research into those critically maligned early films, their songs and the mass audience and have helped create a film culture through their writing and programming of film songs.

As cinephiles and collectors, their passion for that popular cinema of the past remains undiminished even in retirement. I came across them through a series of informative programmes on Independent Television Network (ITN), directed by Indrasiri Suraweera (available on YouTube). Their careful historical research into the musical traditions of the films, and generosity of spirit should inspire younger generations of critics and intellectuals to do more historical and theoretical work on the Lankan cinema more broadly and not forget its hybrid foundations. It is a cinema I enjoyed as a child, but studied critically while writing my doctorate on female representation in these films. Also, because most of these men were trained as journalists on radio and the print media, they are highly disciplined concise speakers (unlike us verbose academics), so it was a pleasure to listen to them exploring an undervalued period of Lankan mass cultural history. This history has an important relationship to Sinhala Buddhist Nationalism and its relation to the ethnic minorities of the country as well.

A Feminist Perspective on Rukmani Devi’s Career

Rukmani Devi died in a car crash in the early hours of one morning in October 1978. She had been travelling all night from Matara to Negombo, after having sung at a carnival variety show there. While there are numerous accounts of her death in all its detail and of the mass funeral and public mourning recorded on film, there is no discussion of why she was travelling such a long distance all night, from Matara to Negombo, after a ‘hard day’s work…’. As far as I know there is no critical analysis of what happened to her career at midlife and how that might have had some connection to the circumstances leading to that fatal accident. Her career trajectory from super-stardom as both an actress and singer from the 1940s, mingling with political and business leaders and some of the major Indian film stars, appearing on the cover of the Indian film magazine Film Fare, and a long recording and singing career, starting as a girl, from 1938, to end up singing in a variety show down South, is surely an index of the precariousness of her life. Her financial insecurity was also true of the lives of many other people who had worked in the film industry (including technicians, directors, main and supporting actors), in the first decades of Lankan cinema. This dark history should also be included as an essential part of what is often referred to (with pride), by some Sinhala critics as, Sinhala sinamawe wansa kathawa (the illustrious genealogy of the Sinhala cinema).

That Rukmani Devi lived an independent personal life as a professional woman in Lanka, starting quite young as an actress, on stage and film in the late 1940s, strikes me as an important aspect of her career, though the roles available to her on film reinforced feudal patriarchal values. The film Samiya Birindage Deviyaya (The Husband is the Wife’s God, 1963, WMS Tampo), stands as one of the most extreme examples of these oppressive values. It’s been referred to as a ‘women’s picture’, one which ‘they like to watch crying’, said one Sinhala male critic. Hollywood called their version ‘the weepies’, a profitable melodramatic genre targeting the new female spectator-consumer, who attended matinees.

The panellists, Ranjith Kumara has written a book on Rukmani Devi and Ranjan de Silva is a collector of her gramophone records and the song sheets of that era. He is also knowledgeable about Indian musical traditions such as the Raga based Hindustani music and popular Bajan and Ghazal songs for instance. He could hear their precise influences on the best of the early Sinhala film songs and how the originals were adapted and modified, rather than simply copied in the best examples. Appreciating the high quality of the Indian originals, he didn’t simply dismiss the early songs as ‘bad’ just because their origins were ‘Indian’.

His ideas on adaptation are sophisticated and can be used to revise dogmatic views on the early film songs. Most entries on the web simply list Rukmani Devi’s’ films with plot summaries without an analysis of her roles, some even extending her film list to dates well after her death, perhaps their dates of exhibition!

I can find no discussion on how her career ended in sharp decline, and what that means about the economically precarious state of some of the personnel, both men and women in the film industry of that time. There is plenty of adulation and appreciation of Rukmani Devi now as a singer, especially at anniversaries. People still listen to her songs and know her ‘legend’, and sing her songs, but with voices that are very high-pitched and ‘thin’, without her rich timbre nor the wide range of her voice and intensity of feeling. These innate qualities prompted one critic to suggest that she might have been able to sing Western opera as well. There is an unfortunate absence of an account of her as a pioneering female professional actress and singer, the challenges she faced (as a modern high profiled Tamil woman), all of which I think merit research, especially by feminist scholars and critics.

A useful thesis or two may be formulated and written on this and related topics at one of our universities. The existing research by Ranjith Kumara and Ranjan de Silva and younger critics and researchers should be drawn on and extended from a feminist perspective on ‘women and work’ and ‘female representation’ on film. There are a few books written by these older cinephiles, which must be collectors’ items by now. There is a small book by Sarath Ranaweera on Master Baig.

The fact that Rukmani Devi returned to the stage to perform in Dhamma Jargoda’s Vesmuhunu (an adaptation of A street car named desire by Tennessee Williams), either in 69 or 70, was mentioned by Ranjith Kumara, along with a significant anecdote. He said that just before she went on stage to perform as an aristocratic lady (originally Blanche du Bois in Williams’ play), she had insisted on showing her respect to Dhamma in the traditional Sinhala manner of bowing to him by going down on her hands and knees at his feet.

Ranjith Kumara mentions this because, as he rightly says, it was an unusual gesture for a Christian such as Rukmani Devi to perform. Certainly, in our catholic villages, stretching from Uswatakeiyawa to Negombo (Rukmani’s home town with Eddy Jayamanne), there was never such a practice and it still remains quite a foreign gesture to me, though I do appreciate the idea of ‘guru bhakti’ which encodes Rukmani Devi’s gesture. Ranjith Kumara elaborates on this, saying that it was Dhamma’s Shilpiya manasa (artistic intelligence) that Rukmani bowed to. One could take up this fascinating anecdote, told with such perspicacity, a little further.

Cultural Capital: Rukmani Devi and Irangani Serasinghe

I happened to have seen some of the rehearsals of Dhamma’s Vesmuhunu, as an inaugural student of the Art Centre Theatre Studio of 1970/71. If I remember right, Dhamma also did a version of it with Irangani Serasinghe simultaneously, alternating between these two brilliant Lankan actors. Some of us saw both rehearsals in Harrold Peiris’s large open garage at Alfred House, where our workshops were held, before the Lionel Wendt complex was refurbished to house the workshop. So, Rukmani’s unusual gesture of gratitude to Dhamma, I imagine, is because someone of his stature in Lankan theatre had finally given her the gift of playing a serious dramatic role in a modern play. The actress who started her career in the popular Tower Hall Nurti plays of the 40s and the Minerva theatre of B.A.W. Jayamanne, was finally given the opportunity to act in a modern western classic. Kumara also mentioned how much Rukmani Devi appreciated being able to act in Lester James Peries’ Ahasin Polowata (From the Sky to the Earth) where the Nimal Mendis song she sang won her a posthumous award.

There are several other famous global super stars who have yearned recognition and respect as ‘serious’ actors. The most famous of course being Marlin Monroe who produced The Prince and the Showgirl just so she could act with the famous British Shakespearean actor, Lawrence Olivier, while she was still married to Arthur Miller the famous American playwright. For unusually gifted super stars such as these, popularity alone is insufficient, knowing full well how ephemeral, limited and confining their popular ‘sexy’ image is for them, they longed for something more durable to work on, something with cultural and intellectual capital, one might now say.

Perhaps reading Rukmani’s autobiography (Mage Jeevitha Vitti), might provide more leads into the intricate intersections between her life and work, which in her case are especially inseparable, unlike that of any other Lankan film star I know of. Her use of the word ‘vitti’ (information), rather than ‘katha’ (story) suggests that she knew how to protect herself, her privacy. Rukmani Devi’s career started with her elopement and marriage, while still a minor, and she never stopped working in the dominant language which was not her mother tongue, having done only a few performances in Tamil. Whereas, many Lankan Sinhala female stars have left their careers at the height of their popularity to get married and have a family. Most memorably Jeevarani Kurukulasuriya (who formed such a popular romantic duo with Gamini Fonseka, our first male action hero), abandoned her career at marriage.

Dharmasena Pathiraja’s comments, at the official celebration held by the then president Maithripala Sirisena (along with the former president Chandrika Bandaranayaka), to mark the 50th anniversary of his professional work in the Lankan film industry, are relevant in thinking about Rukmani Devi’s predicament. He undercut the idea that he had worked ‘professionally’ in the ‘Lankan film industry’. He asked, rhetorically but politely:

“What Industry? How can there be an industry without capital, if there is no professional stability and proper infrastructure? When we look at the sad last days of Rukmani Devi, Domi Jayawardhana and Eddie Jayamanne, how can we speak of an industry? I wasn’t a filmmaker professionally, was anyone able to make a living professionally? I made a living by teaching as a lecturer from 1968-2008. (Maha lokuwata, arambaye sita karmanthayak gana katha keruwath, ape athdakeema anuwa wurthiya sthawarathwayk nathnam kohomada karmanthayak thienne!) The people who say there is an industry are the exhibitors and some producers.”

These starkly realist comments may be taken as an important starting point for future research into the economic, cultural and biographical histories of stars of the Lankan cinema, by young scholars. Clearly, Pathiraja knew from within what exactly had happened to these once very popular actors late in their lives. Perhaps it’s not too late yet to do some oral history before those with personal memory and deep knowledge of the vital early decades also pass away.

I remember visiting Master Hugo Fernando (who did comic routines with his little knot of hair tied at the back and large umbrella tucked under his arm), to talk about the ethos of the old days, which he did so graciously. Kumara and de Silva’s research is indispensable in this regard. Irangani Serasinghe would probably welcome a chance to talk about working with both Dhamma and Rukmani on the same play simultaneously, a most unusual experiment only he could have devised. I feel, in doing so, he was paying homage to two of Lanka’s uniquely popular actors from vastly different social worlds and actorly traditions, with very different cultural capital.

There is a strange symmetry in their career trajectories, but going in opposite directions. Irangani became a beloved house hold name only after the advent of the teledramas once Television was introduced in the late 70s. Prior to that, her acting began at the University Dram Soc where she famously played the heroine in the Greek classic Antigone. After her training at Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, she acted in the English language theatre and in the films of Lester beginning with Rekava (1956). Her repertoire included Shakespeare, Chekov, Lorca, Brecht and others. This also led her to play in Sinhala theatre as well.

During this time, she was recognised as one of our finest actors in both languages, but was not a household name as her work was consistently on the English stage. In contrast, Rukmani was a national figure of great adoration as an actress and singer on film and radio starting from the 40s. While Irangani worked in the domain of high-culture, Rukmani Devi created a Lankan popular mass culture (with Master Baig and others), through her films and songs. But with each change of taste, fashion and the fact of ageing, her film appeal diminished. But her resilience at self-reinvention is evident when she joined the group Los Cabelleros, singing Sinhala pop songs to Latin rhythms, with a show in Jaffna where she sang in Tamil.

I wonder if her Sinhala fans were curious enough to ask her to sing in Tamil as well. In her later years she longed to perform in work that was considered intellectually serious, engaged art. And this chance she did get but belatedly with Dhamma, while Irangani, through her later work in tele-dramas and films, has been able to continue her career well into her 90s and also become a cherished ‘national treasure’. Just as some critics dismissed the early Sinhala films dependent on Indian models, there are those who are critical of many teledramas for their low quality and diluting of popular taste and powers of discrimination. Unlike Irangani’s, Rukmani’s career trajectory marks a sad decline, as Pathiraja stated so forcefully. Therefore, all the massive outpouring of love and grief at her death is no compensation for the loss of worthwhile work. After all she died at only 55 with so much untapped creativity still left.

I am not alone in thinking that Lanka failed this rare artist of national and international stature, as it did Master Mohideen Baig (but more of him later). A visiting Indian star on hearing Rukmani Devi sing had said that, had she been born in India she would have been far more famous. Perhaps like the iconic singer Latha Mangeshkar, of whom Kumar Shahani once said: ‘If India has a heart, then that would be Latha Mangeshkar.’ Singing melancholy songs (Shoka Geetha), but with poetic lyrics written especially for her in Tamil and Sinhala, Rukmani Devi might have become, for all of us, (irrespective of our ethnic differences), Lanka’s sole soulful female voice. Baig Master was the only singer who sang with Mangeshkar, who also sang a song in Sinhala.

Rukmani Devi’s unerring ear meant that she could ‘pass’ as Sinhala, without a trace of her Tamil mother tongue inflecting her enunciation of the words. This ability was not a matter of aesthetics alone within the history of race relations in modern Sri Lanka, then Ceylon. In fact, the ability to pronounce ‘correctly’ the Sinhala word for bucket as ‘baldi’, became a sign of one’s ethnic identity during anti-Tamil riots in July 83. Saying ‘valdi’ instead of ‘baldi’ resulted even in death.

Mohideen Baig, a Muslim, who sang duets with Rukmani Devi, did so with a slight Urdu inflected accent and yet he was an essential part of Sinhala cinema and radio with mass appeal for much of the early period. Together, they evoked a haunting feeling of pathos tinged with a melancholy mood (viraha), in many of their songs, most especially in Jeevana me gamana sansare (samsare of this life’s journey).

Muttusamy and Rocksamy were the leading composers of music for the songs in Sinhala, though there were many other Tamil and Muslim musicians working in the industry as well. Even after better educated writers of lyrics entered the industry these highly skilled musicians continued to compose for them. For example, while Karunaratna Abeysekara wrote the lyrics for Kurul Badda the music was by Muttusamy. Rocksamy composed the music for Dharmasena Pathiraja’s great Tamil language film Ponmani, a truly innovative score in that the main song in the Karnataka idiom is repeated as a refrain, creating an emotional commentary on the main violent action. He also played the saxophone which was banned by the Sinhala nationalists at Radio Ceylon as being a brass Western instrument!

To be continued…

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Features

Civilizational dialogue proving a remote possibility as realpolitik rages

Published

18 hours ago

2026/09/3

Sahan Weerasooriya

Political leaders at the Shanghai Cooperation Organization Summit 2026. (Photo by PROKOFYEV / POOL / AFP)

Looking back over the years since the 9/11 catastrophe, it could be said that barring former Iranian President Mohammad Khatami no world political leader of note has made an earnest effort to change the nature of global political discourse for the better. Khatami won world acclaim for his pronouncement that the time is right to launch and sustain a ‘Dialogue among Civilizations’.

This was in marked contrast to US political scientist Samuel P. Huntingdon’s epochal theses, formulated in the wake of 9/11 and other global political tumults that the Post Cold War era is essentially one of conflicts among civilizations. That is, people’s identity markers, such as culture and religion, are the prime shaping forces of international conflicts.

From a Political Realism standpoint, Huntingdon’s theory may seem to have gained in credibility over the years but it is Khatami’s pronouncement that has evoked an empathetic response in the hearts and minds of publics world wide. So much so, 2001 was proclaimed by the UN General Assembly as the ‘Year of Dialogue among Civilizations’.

It could be said that the latter proclamation was an endeavour to give back to humans their essential identity of peace-makers. It was an eschewing of the position that war and conflict are central to the human condition and amounted to upholding constructive dialogue among peoples and civilizations as a path to peace.

That things have not worked out in the world in keeping with the expectations of peace makers does not in any way invalidate the thesis that peace is the essential propensity of humans.

If peace-making is seemingly ineffective it is primarily because the path to peace is narrow, tortuous and time-consuming. On the other hand, violence usually misleadingly recommends itself to the human as the more expedient, cost-effective way out of a conflictual situation. However, the ultimate cost of the latter approach is prohibitive because it brutalizes the human beyond recognition.

Some of the evidence is before our eyes. The Trump administration, for example, has, minus much forethought, unleashed what may be described as a ‘quick-fix’ war against Iran but is now finding that it is in a veritable military quagmire in West Asia. The priority for the administration now seems to be a face-saving escape strategy. Such are the costs of the war option.

However, there is no denying that much remains to be done by the world community to bring peoples and cultures together with a view to enabling them to work as one for the cause of a less dangerous world.

Meanwhile, the broad divisions in international politics continue and past political polarities are lingering to the detriment of enhanced international understanding. The East and the West and the South and the North, for instance, are continuing to work in separate collectives, more or less, and no notable efforts are being made by the international community to bring these sides together for the purpose of united constructive action that could usher greater international well being.

The recent Shanghai Cooperation Organization Summit, 2026, held in Kyrgyztan was a replication of the above broad trends but there were some statements at the forum by Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi that deserve special scrutiny and comment.

Modi was quoted saying among other things: ‘The land of Gandhi and the land of Buddha share a single message: the path to peace!..We must move away from endless war towards an end to the war. This is essentially for the well being of humanity. A peaceful resolution to all issues at the earliest is the call of humanity, and this is India’s message.’

The above is the language of international peace and unity. It is such language that will help in building bridges among civilizations and advance the cause of world peace. Besides, it will help bring a measure of understanding between North and South.

In this regard, the Trump administration could take a leaf or more from the Modi government. Unless it makes a ‘U turn’, as it were, in the direction of peace and reconciliation it is very unlikely that the US and the world would experience any stability worth speaking of.

Right now the US is savaging the sovereignty of Venezuela. It is a question of the ‘Empire striking back’ but Venezuela is a far cry from Iran. Iran has outsmarted the US on the battle field and is in a position to influence broad trends in the world economy since it still has control over the Hormuz Straits. That is, Iran could exercise a determining influence over world oil, gas and energy prices. In short, the US consumer’s future peace of mind is very much in the hands of Iran.

Given the above backdrop it should have dawned on the US political leadership that working towards cordial relations with Iran is the most advisable option. The US, simply, has too much to lose otherwise.

Likewise, Russia too needs to take a leaf from India. It is plain to see that its invasion of Ukraine is proving totally ineffective. It has not brought any measure of peace for the Russian people. Russia is right now experiencing a rerun of its military misadventure in Afghanistan. On the other hand, sections of the peoples concerned have been victimized and even brutalized.

Accordingly, there needs to be a coming together of democratic opinion worldwide for a fresh consideration of the options facing humanity. There is a dire need for value-based politics to take the place of Realpolitik. Besides, the language of peace and humanity needs to replace current divisive discourse with its stress on polarities and antagonisms.

International organizations of the stature of the UN need to take the lead in spearheading the above initiatives. Right now the UN gives the impression of being a spent force. This columnist hopes that he would be proved wrong on this score because the UN remains the only hope of the poor and victimized. It will be in the interests of all peoples for the UN to rejuvenate itself and dedicate itself increasingly enthusiastically to the cause of international peace.

Whether it be the South or North, dynamic, visionary political leadership and direction emerges as essential. The need is for voices that would espouse peace and accord across boundaries and divisions. For South Asia, India and Pakistan have the potential to fill this lacuna.

Features

Sri Lanka’s constitutional test: Judicial independence beyond immediate political moment

Published

18 hours ago

2026/09/3

Sahan Weerasooriya

Superior Court Complex, Colombo

by Shelton Dharmaratne

Sri Lanka has reached an important constitutional moment.

The proposed 22nd Amendment has moved beyond political debate and into the constitutional process through which its validity will be examined. That development should change the character of the national discussion.

That is understandable in a politically contested environment. But Sri Lanka should now resist reducing a question of constitutional design to a contest over political positions.

The deeper issue concerns the relationship between constitutional reform, judicial independence and public confidence in the institutions of the State.

The Supreme Court will determine the constitutional questions before it. Public commentators should therefore exercise restraint in predicting, interpreting or seeking to influence that determination. But restraint does not require silence. It requires a more rigorous discussion of the institutional principles at stake.

A narrower constitutional question than the political debate suggests

The proposed amendment principally concerns the retirement ages of judges of the Supreme Court and Court of Appeal, together with an increase in the maximum number of judges permitted on the Court of Appeal.

Under the proposal, the retirement age of Supreme Court judges would rise from 65 to 67 and that of Court of Appeal judges from 63 to 65. The maximum number of Court of Appeal judges would also increase from 19 to 24.

Other proposed changes concerning the retirement ages of judges in the lower courts arise under separate legislation. This distinction matters because the public debate has sometimes treated the wider package of judicial reform as though it formed a single constitutional proposal.

Nor should the central issue be reduced to whether retaining experienced judges is inherently good or inherently dangerous. Both propositions are too simplistic.

Sri Lanka faces a substantial burden of pending litigation, and delays in the administration of justice impose significant costs on citizens, businesses and the State. Experienced judges represent an institutional resource. Continuity, accumulated knowledge and familiarity with complex areas of law cannot always be replaced immediately.

Those are legitimate policy considerations.

But the opposing concern is equally important: judicial tenure is not merely an employment condition. It is a structural component of judicial independence.

The real question is institutional

The critical question is not whether an individual judge is capable of acting impartially. It is whether the constitutional structure provides adequate protection against circumstances in which judicial tenure could become connected, directly or indirectly, with political authority.

That is an institutional question, not an accusation against individual judges.

A judge may be entirely conscientious and independent while the institutional arrangements surrounding the judiciary nevertheless create public doubts about independence. Constitutional democracies therefore cannot depend solely on the personal integrity of office-holders. They must construct institutions capable of preserving independence even when governments, individuals and political circumstances change.

This is particularly relevant when constitutional reform concerns the tenure of serving members of the superior judiciary.

The institutional sensitivity of such a proposal should neither be exaggerated into an allegation of improper motive nor dismissed as irrelevant. The appropriate response is transparency, procedural fairness and confidence in constitutional safeguards.

Legitimate objectives do not settle constitutional questions

The government has stated that its objectives include strengthening the administration of justice, addressing delays, retaining judicial experience and increasing institutional capacity.

Those objectives deserve serious consideration. Sri Lanka needs judicial reform. Citizens waiting years for their cases to be concluded experience the justice system very differently from those discussing it in Parliament, courtrooms or universities.

A government is therefore entitled to propose reforms designed to improve judicial efficiency.

But legitimate objectives do not automatically resolve constitutional objections. The relevant question is whether the means chosen are compatible with the constitutional structure and whether sufficient safeguards exist against unintended institutional consequences.

That is precisely why constitutional scrutiny matters.

The concerns of the Bar Association of Sri Lanka (BASL) should likewise be examined without political labelling. Opposition to the proposed changes should not automatically be characterised as opposition to judicial reform or an attempt to obstruct the government. At the same time, invoking judicial independence does not place any argument beyond scrutiny.

The appropriate questions are straightforward:

Does extending judicial tenure strengthen the administration of justice?

What risks, if any, could it create for judicial independence?

Are adequate institutional safeguards in place?

Does the proposal operate prospectively, or does it affect judges already serving?

Could the same objectives be achieved by filling vacancies, increasing judicial capacity, improving court administration and strengthening case management?

These questions can be examined rationally without attributing improper motives to either side.

Judicial vacancies and institutional confidence

Recent concerns raised by the BASL regarding judicial vacancies add another dimension to the debate. The BASL has argued that vacancies in the Supreme Court contributed to the retirement of a senior Court of Appeal judge without promotion to the Supreme Court, despite vacancies having existed. It has also raised concerns regarding forthcoming judicial retirements and the need for timely consideration of appointments.

Such matters should not be treated as evidence of the motives behind the proposed amendment. They do, however, illustrate a broader principle.

Judicial independence is shaped not only by the retirement age written into the Constitution. It is also influenced by how vacancies are filled, how promotions are determined, how seniority and merit are assessed, and whether judicial officers and the public believe that institutional decisions are made according to transparent and defensible criteria.

The government has an opportunity to address these concerns constructively.

Prompt appointments based on publicly defensible principles would strengthen confidence in the judiciary irrespective of the eventual outcome of the constitutional debate.

Seniority, merit and transparent criteria

The controversy also exposes a longstanding question concerning judicial appointments.

Seniority has traditionally carried considerable weight in judicial advancement. Yet seniority alone need not be the sole measure of merit. Conversely, replacing established practices with undefined assessments of “merit” could create another institutional problem.

If governments or appointing authorities can determine which judges are sufficiently meritorious without clear and objective criteria, uncertainty itself may become a source of institutional anxiety.

Sri Lanka would therefore benefit from clearer, objective and defensible standards governing judicial appointments and promotions.

Such standards would protect judges as well as appointing authorities. They would reduce opportunities for favouritism, strengthen institutional confidence and make it harder for political actors to portray every appointment as politically motivated.

Institutional rules are stronger safeguards than assurances of good intentions.

The State is larger than any government

One principle deserves particular emphasis: a government is not the State.

Governments are temporary. The constitutional State is continuing. Political parties change, parliamentary majorities change and political priorities change. The judiciary, however, must continue to function independently of whoever occupies the government benches.

The judiciary is neither a government institution in the political sense nor an Opposition institution. It is an institution of the State whose legitimacy depends upon its independence from both.

For that reason, governments should exercise particular caution when proposing constitutional changes affecting the judiciary, even where the policy objectives are legitimate.

The stronger a government is politically, the greater its responsibility to demonstrate institutional restraint.

That is not political weakness. It is constitutional maturity.

Public confidence is a constitutional asset

The most consequential issue may ultimately be neither retirement age nor judicial capacity, but public confidence.

Courts do not possess political power in the conventional sense. Their authority rests substantially on the acceptance of their decisions as legitimate.

Citizens will sometimes disagree with judicial decisions. But where the judiciary is perceived as independent, even unpopular decisions can command respect. If judicial institutions are perceived as being shaped by political convenience, even legally sound decisions may become vulnerable to suspicion.

Constitutional reform affecting judicial tenure must therefore be evaluated not only by its immediate administrative benefits but also by its effect on institutional credibility.

A reform that produces short-term efficiency while weakening confidence in judicial independence could impose a greater long-term cost. Conversely, reform that improves efficiency while preserving independence can strengthen both justice and public trust.

The challenge is not to choose between judicial efficiency and judicial independence. It is to achieve both.

If a referendum arises …

If the constitutional process ultimately requires approval by the people at a referendum, the debate should rise above the conventional government versus Opposition contest.

The electorate should be given a clear constitutional question and sufficient information to assess it.

Citizens should understand what problem the amendment seeks to address, why the proposed mechanism is considered necessary, what institutional risks have been identified, what safeguards exist and whether alternative measures could achieve the same objectives.

A constitutional referendum deserves a higher standard of public discussion than an ordinary election campaign.

The people would not merely be choosing a political side. They would be deciding the institutional framework within which political power and judicial authority operate.

Beyond who wins

The most important question arising from the proposed Twenty-Second Amendment is therefore not simply whether the government succeeds or whether the Opposition and BASL prevail.

Nor is it ultimately whether judicial retirement ages become 67 and 65 or remain unchanged.

Those are immediate constitutional questions. The deeper issue is what Sri Lanka learns from the controversy.

If the government seeks to modernise and strengthen the justice system, that objective deserves serious consideration. If the BASL and others warn that particular reforms may affect judicial independence, those concerns deserve equally serious examination.

Neither side strengthens the country by assuming that the other is acting in bad faith.

The constitutional system is strongest when legitimate disagreements are resolved through institutions rather than political pressure.

Whatever the eventual constitutional outcome, Sri Lanka will still face the underlying challenges of judicial vacancies, case delays, institutional capacity, judicial appointments and public confidence. Those problems will not disappear with a judicial determination, nor should the national conversation end there.

Sri Lanka should instead seek a broader consensus around a fundamental proposition:

Judicial reform and judicial independence are not competing objectives.

The real challenge is to pursue reform in a manner that strengthens the judiciary without placing its independence under suspicion.

That requires sound legislation, transparent appointments, adequate resources, efficient court administration, responsible political conduct and safeguards capable of surviving changes of government.

The present controversy will eventually pass. Political arguments surrounding it will fade.

But constitutional arrangements can endure for decades.

That is why Sri Lanka must look beyond the immediate political contest.

The ultimate test is not who wins today’s constitutional argument. It is whether, when the political moment has passed, Sri Lanka has a judiciary that is more efficient, more accessible and more trusted—while remaining sufficiently independent to hold every government, including future governments, within the boundaries of the Constitution.

Features

Farewell to a Fashion Icon

Published

18 hours ago

2026/09/3

Sahan Weerasooriya

Chula was very fond of The Island newspaper and kept in touch with us on a regular basis (L) / Chula: Sent us this photo for Glam Scene, just a couple of weeks ago (R)

Sri Lanka’s fashion world lost one of its brightest stars Monday morning – veteran model, actress, and elite pageant trainer Chulpadmendra “Chula” Kumarapathirana.

Her sudden demise has certainly come as a shock to many.

Chula had just completed a major event on Sunday (30th August), and was no more in the land of the living the following day (31st August).

Born in Colombo, she was an old girl of Buddhist Ladies’ College and later studied at the National Institute of Business Management, and has many awesome achievements to her credit.

In 2006, she won the “Miss Tourism Model of the World Press Award” in Tanzania.

She entered the entertainment industry, as an actress, and gained popularity through the teledrama “Wahinna Muthu Wessak.”

Chulpadmendra has been on TV, and many Sri Lankan hip-hop music videos, including “Hanthane” and “Heena Hirimal”, and has had several other minor acting jobs since then.

She hosted the Derana Miss Sri Lanka for Miss World 2008 and even participated in the reality TV show Sirasa Dancing Star.

For over 25 years Chula was active in local and international fashion and founded the Chulpadmendra Catwalk Studio to train young newcomers

She trained hundreds of models for runway, photoshoots, auditions, and international pageants.

She was known as a fierce mentor who believed in “not just learning to walk, but learning to command the runway”.

Many young models called graduating from her studio their “happiest moment.”

Chulpadmendra “Chula” Kumarapathirana: Many young models called graduating
from her studio their “happiest moment.” (L)/ Won the “Miss Tourism Model of the World Press Award” in Tanzania (R)

Chula was very fond of The Island newspaper and kept in touch with us on a regular basis.

Her last message to The Island was a ‘thank you’ note for the article ‘New benchmark in pageant industry’:

“Thank you, Ivan, for writing such a beautiful article about me. Your unwavering support, encouragement, and belief in me throughout my career mean more than words can express. I am truly grateful for your kindness and generosity.

“My heartfelt thanks also go to The Island newspaper for featuring the article. It is a great honour, and I sincerely appreciate the recognition and support.

“Thank you once again.”

In fact, just a couple weeks ago, she sent a photo of herself for our Glam Scene and that picture I publish today, as part of this story.

May she rest in peace. Our deepest condolences to her family, students, and all who loved her.