Features
The Snake Charmer and the Princess
By Jayantha Perera
The tall snake charmer with a thick moustache stared into my eyes and smiled. His eyes were large. His rugged, good looks were accentuated by long, black, curly hair that reached his shoulder. He had a flute-like instrument, which indicated he was a rodi (untouchable) snake charmer. He asked my permission to sit on the ground next to me. He smiled again and told me he was waiting for the children to come out of school to watch snake dances. I told him I was waiting for my friends to return. I was uneasy to see his two baskets in a dirty cloth rucksack.
The sun was intense, and the parched bed of the village reservoir behind the school looked like an over-baked cake with a broken, burnt crust. The clay at the bottom of the tank was exposed to the direct sun, and several people were cutting clay cubes to make bricks. Galgamuwa, where we were, had not received rain for several months.
Galgamuwa is a village on the Colombo-Jaffna railway line. About 50 years ago, the Galgamuwa railway station also functioned as a pola (village fair) for fresh vegetables. Farmers brought vegetables in small trays to sell to railway passengers. A vegetable tray contained eggplant, beans, bitter gourd, green chillies, and limes. The buyer emptied the tray and returned it with money to the seller, who was waiting on the platform.
I heard the school bell and saw children running out of classrooms onto the gravel road in front of the school. Some bought food from vendors, and about 20 boys gathered around us to see a snake dance. The snake charmer told them that he would charge five cents from each child. He boasted that he had a king cobra.
The snake charmer was not in a hurry. He tested his flute while searching for something in his rucksack. He showed me a piece of wood that looked like a chalk stick. He thanked deities for allowing him to show his cobras to innocent children. He removed the lid of one basket. The cobra in it was a long one with beautiful skin. The snake charmer played his flute at full throttle, and the cobra slowly started to unwind and move towards the wooden piece the charmer held in his hand.
One child shouted, “Look, look, the hood with a Sinhala ‘pa’ letter.” The cobra hissed angrily at its master when he withdrew the stick. After five minutes, the cobra returned to its basket. The children lost interest in the cobra and ran to school to play. Some of them did not pay for the show.
As the snake charmer lingered, a sense of unease settled over me. He carefully checked the two snake baskets, kept them on my left, and sat on my right. I kept one eye on the two baskets to check what the cobras in the baskets were doing. The snake charmer understood my fear and reassured me that the cobras were harmless and honourable, and some gods use them as their vehicle.
He told me that killing a cobra was equivalent to killing one’s father! His words, rather than comforting me, only added to my unease. I remembered my late father killing a cobra many years before and how some neighbours blamed him for killing it. When my father died soon after the killing of the cobra, a neighbour said my father paid the penalty for killing the reptile.
My Catholic upbringing taught me that a snake symbolised evil, as in the story of Adam and Eve. A snake had deceived and led them to eat a forbidden apple. As a result, they lost the chance to live in paradise on Earth. At the college chapel, there was a life-size statue of Mother Mary with her right foot on the head of a giant snake. According to my catechism teacher, God had told the snake that a woman would crush its head for the unforgivable crime he had committed in Eden by deceiving Adam and Eve.
I felt nervous to be in the company of two cobras and a snake charmer. I was more scared of the snake charmer than of the two cobras. I thought he would use a powerful mantra (charm) to harm or entice me to accompany him to his hulawali (a community of rodi people).
After a long silence, the snake charmer talked to me. He was hungry and begged for some food from me. I had half a packet of ginger biscuits and a bottle of water in my bag. I took three biscuits and gave him the remaining few, which he devoured with gratitude. He did not ask for water. He got up and went to the school water tap, leaving his flute and two snake baskets in my custody. When I saw a slight movement in one basket, I shouted for him to return.
When he returned, he was a happy man. He said that he could read my face and predict my future. He said I had two main aims – to study and protect my reputation. Then he explained how enemies planned to harm me. He also talked about my marriage and children. He became thoughtful and said that I might not stay in my first marriage and I might have a second marriage. I would have three children, and they would do well and remain loyal to me.
He predicted that I would leave my motherland soon, never to return. Then he boasted that if I were interested in any woman, he could help me with a powerful mantra to entice her. He winked at me and waited for me to respond. I did not respond. His predictions, though intriguing, only added to the mystery surrounding him. He told me the girls of his community were the prettiest because they were direct descendants of a Sinhala Princess called Ratnawalli – the daughter of King Prakramabahu. The King had expelled her from the court because she supplied human flesh, claiming it was venison. The snake charmer complained that the punishment was too harsh.
I asked him about his hulawali, family, and children. His hulawali would stay six months in Galgamuwa. They would move to another area before the rains started. He was married with two children. The children were teenagers, and he had taught them how to read palms and faces and predict the future. They never attended school. The marital age in his community was 12 years for a girl and 14 years for a boy. They followed matrilineal descent, and children were generally attached to their mothers.
The snake charmer checked the two baskets again and found the cobras happy and resting. He said, “Although people consider us untouchables and untrustworthy, we are connected with royalty.” He inquired whether I had any more food in my rucksack. When I said I hadn’t, he walked to the water tap and drank from it. He settled on the ground before me and told me a story about his ancestors.
His great-grandfather was known for his mastery of mantras. He was a simple, intelligent man and was next in line to become the community chief. One day, he was begging in a Kandyan aristocratic neighbourhood when he saw a young, pretty woman watching him from her balcony. He knew she was a member of one of the leading aristocratic families. He smiled, but she snapped at him and ran in.
The young man was sad, and for several days, he roamed in the vicinity of the girl’s mansion, trying to get a glimpse of her. He got angry with her when house servants told him not to stroll near the mansion. He prayed to his ancestors and vowed to bring the girl as his wife. He felt no purpose in living in this world without her by his side as his companion.
About a month later, he walked past the mansion and saw her again on the balcony. She, too, saw him and ran back to the house, screaming that a devil was trying to harm her. The house servants chased him away. He felt terrible and decided to camp in front of her home until her parents gave her to him.
The belief in the area was if a rodi man or a woman died in the vicinity of a high-caste neighbourhood, seven houses in the vicinity would become rodias. The girl’s parents and relatives offered the young man money, but he insisted that he would die in front of the house unless they handed her over to him. In the end, the parents gave their daughter to him. Then, to save face, they spread the rumour that she ran away with a stranger.
The story of the snake charmer’s great-grandfather triggered memories of a book I had read years ago as an undergraduate. The book was Amawathura, written by Gurulu Gomi in the 12th century. One chapter was on Dittamangalika (Pleasant Woman). I told the snake charmer the story.
Dittamangalika was from a wealthy family and was pretty, educated, and of high birth. Many young men wanted her hand in marriage, but she refused all of them. She found defects in their feet, hands, or faces. Once, she was going to the royal pond to bathe and heard a bell. She opened the curtains of her palanquin and saw a chandala (untouchable) young man on the road.
She shouted, “Oh, my eyes are now polluted. Bring water to wash my polluted eyes. Oh, I mentioned his caste name, and now my tongue is polluted. Is it my fate to see such an impure creature today? I do not want to go to the pond any more; take me home immediately to wash my eyes and mouth.” Her servants were angry with the young man because they lost an excellent opportunity to enjoy good food at the royal pond at her expense. They assaulted the young man and left him for dead.
Mathanga, the young man, thought thus: I suffered profusely in the hands of those hooligans because of that young woman. If I were a man, I would take her as my wife. He staggered to the front yard of the girl’s mansion and shouted, “If I get Dittamangalika as my wife, I will get up and go with her. If not, I will die here.”
The neighbours got alarmed and told her father, “Unless you hand over the girl to the Chandala boy, we will take her to him. If the fellow dies here, seven houses to the left and seven to the right will become untouchables.” Her parents reluctantly handed over the girl to Mathanga. He told her, “Your people have beaten me up. I am fragile, and my whole body is aching. Please carry me on your shoulder to our hut”. She carried him and walked to his small hut in the periphery of the town while onlookers jeered.
The snake charmer was delighted to hear the story. He said, “Look, as far back as a thousand years ago, we had contacts with royalty and the aristocracy. Now you know that we, too, are of royal descent.” He said, “In my community, a good storyteller could easily become its leader and win the most beautiful woman.” He requested that I visit his hulawali and repeat the story to his relatives and friends.
My colleagues arrived at the scene and were unhappy to see me conversing with a rodi snake charmer. One asked me, “How long have you been talking to this man?” I told him, “About three hours.” He said I should go through a purification process to remove any mantra the man had placed on me. Before lunch, he cut several lemons, rubbed them on my body, and told me to bathe at the well.
I could not sleep that night because I dreamt of cobras and a man in a white sarong who was trying to chase them away from me. Early the following day, the colleague who had shared the room with me told me that I had shouted several times in the night, saying naya, naya (cobra, cobra). My colleagues took me to a Buddhist temple at Galgamuwa to cleanse me of pollution and charm.
Before I explained what had happened, my friends rushed to relate the story to the chief monk. One said that the snake charmer tried to charm me using his black magic skills. He explained the circumstances – I was sitting on a large boulder, the cobras on my left, and the snake charmer on my right. He thought that arrangement showed that the snake charmer wanted to keep me where I was so that he could silently recite a mantra and charm me to take me to his community.
My friend asked the priest to redeem me from the black magic entrapment. The priest thought for a minute and started chanting pirith. At the end of the chanting, he tied a white string around my wrist and blessed me. He told me that no evil spirit or person would harm me any more. The priest did not forget to advise me that I should avoid snake charmers and beggars with many tricks to harm others.
Features
Humanitarian leadership in a time of war
There has been a rare consensus of opinion in the country that the government’s humanitarian response to the sinking of Iran’s naval ship IRIS Dena was the correct one. The support has spanned the party political spectrum and different sections of society. Social media commentary, statements by political parties and discussion in mainstream media have all largely taken the position that Sri Lanka acted in accordance with humanitarian principles and international law. In a period when public debate in Sri Lanka is often sharply divided, the sense of agreement on this issue is noteworthy and reflects positively on the ethos and culture of a society that cares for those in distress. A similar phenomenon was to be witnessed in the rallying of people of all ethnicities and backgrounds to help those affected by the Ditwah Cyclone in December last year.
The events that led to this situation unfolded with dramatic speed. In the early hours before sunrise the Dina made a distress call. The ship was one of three Iranian naval vessels that had taken part in a naval gathering organised by India in which more than 70 countries had participated, including Sri Lanka. Naval gatherings of this nature are intended to foster professional exchange, confidence building and goodwill between navies. They are also governed by strict protocols regarding armaments and conduct.
When the exhibition ended open war between the United States and Iran had not yet broken out. The three Iranian ships that participated in the exhibition left the Indian port and headed into international waters on their journey back home. Under the protocol governing such gatherings ships may not be equipped with offensive armaments. This left them particularly vulnerable once the regional situation changed dramatically, though the US Indo-Pacific Command insists the ship was armed. The sudden outbreak of war between the United States and Iran would have alerted the Iranian ships that they were sailing into danger. According to reports, they sought safe harbour and requested docking in Sri Lanka’s ports but before the Sri Lankan government could respond the Dena was fatally hit by a torpedo.
International Law
The sinking of the Dena occurred just outside Sri Lanka’s territorial waters. Whatever decision the Sri Lankan government made at this time was bound to be fraught with consequence. The war that is currently being fought in the Middle East is a no-holds-barred one in which more than 15 countries have come under attack. Now the sinking of the Dena so close to Sri Lanka’s maritime boundary has meant that the war has come to the very shores of the country. In times of war emotions run high on all sides and perceptions of friend and enemy can easily become distorted. Parties involved in the conflict tend to gravitate to the position that “those who are not with us are against us.” Such a mindset leaves little room for neutrality or humanitarian discretion.
In such situations countries that are not directly involved in the conflict may wish to remain outside it by avoiding engagement. Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath informed the international media that Sri Lanka’s response to the present crisis was rooted in humanitarian principles, international law and the United Nations. The Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) which was adopted 1982 provides the legal framework governing maritime conduct and obliges states to render assistance to persons in distress at sea. In terms of UNCLOS, countries are required to render help to anyone facing danger in maritime waters regardless of nationality or the circumstances that led to the emergency. Sri Lanka’s response to the distress call therefore reflects both humanitarianism and adherence to international law.
Within a short period of receiving the distress message from the stricken Iranian warship the Sri Lankan government sent its navy to the rescue. They rescued more than thirty Iranian sailors who had survived the attack and were struggling in the water. The rescue operation also brought to Sri Lanka the bodies of those who had perished when their ship sank. The scale of the humanitarian challenge is significant. Sri Lanka now has custody of more than eighty bodies of sailors who lost their lives in the sinking of the Dena. In addition, a second Iranian naval ship IRINS Bushehr with more than two hundred sailors has come under Sri Lanka’s protection. The government therefore finds itself responsible for survivors but also for the dignified treatment of the bodies of the dead Iranian sailors.
Sri Lanka’s decision to render aid based on humanitarian principles, not political allegiance, reinforces the importance of a rules-based international order for all countries. Reliance on international law is particularly important for small countries like Sri Lanka that lack the power to defend themselves against larger actors. For such countries a rules-based international order provides at least a measure of protection by ensuring that all states operate within a framework of agreed norms. Sri Lanka itself has played a notable role in promoting such norms. In 1971 the United Nations General Assembly adopted a resolution declaring the Indian Ocean a Zone of Peace. The initiative for this proposal came from Sri Lanka, which argued that the Indian Ocean should be protected from great power rivalry and militarisation.
Moral Beacon
Unfortunately, the current global climate suggests that the rules-based order is barely operative. Conflicts in different parts of the world have increasingly shown disregard for the norms and institutions that were created in the aftermath of the Second World War to regulate international behaviour. In such circumstances it becomes even more important for smaller countries to demonstrate their commitment to international law and to convert the bigger countries to adopt more humane and universal thinking. The humanitarian response to the Iranian sailors therefore needs to be seen in this wider context. By acting swiftly to rescue those in distress and by affirming that its actions are guided by international law, Sri Lanka has enhanced its reputation as a small country that values peace, humane values, cooperation and the rule of law. It would be a relief to the Sri Lankan government that earlier communications that the US government was urging Sri Lanka not to repatriate the Iranian sailors has been modified to the US publicly acknowledging the applicability of international law to what Sri Lanka does.
The country’s own experience of internal conflict has shaped public consciousness in important ways. Sri Lanka endured a violent internal war that lasted nearly three decades. During that period questions relating to the treatment of combatants, the protection of civilians, missing persons and accountability became central issues. As a result, Sri Lankans today are familiar with the provisions of international law that deal with war crimes, the treatment of wounded or disabled combatants and the fate of those who go missing in conflict. The country continues to host an international presence in the form of UN agencies and the ICRC that work with the government on humanitarian and post conflict issues. The government needs to apply the same principled commitment of humanitarianism and the rule of law to the unresolved issues from Sri Lanka’s own civil war, including accountability and reconciliation.
By affirming humanitarian principles and acting accordingly towards the Iranian sailors and their ship Sri Lanka has become a moral beacon for peace and goodwill in a world that often appears to be moving in the opposite direction. At a time when geopolitical rivalries are intensifying and humanitarian norms are frequently ignored, such actions carry symbolic significance. The credibility of Sri Lanka’s moral stance abroad will be further enhanced by its ability to uphold similar principles at home. Sri Lanka continues to grapple with unresolved issues arising from its own internal conflict including questions of accountability, justice, reparations and reconciliation. It has a duty not only to its own citizens, but also to suffering humanity everywhere. Addressing its own internal issues sincerely will strengthen Sri Lanka’s moral standing in the international community and help it to be a force for a new and better world.
BY Jehan Perera
Features
Language: The symbolic expression of thought
It was Henry Sweet, the English phonetician and language scholar, who said, “Language may be defined as the expression of thought by means of speech sounds“. In today’s context, where language extends beyond spoken sounds to written text, and even into signs, it is best to generalise more and express that language is the “symbolic expression of thought“. The opposite is also true: without the ability to think, there will not be a proper development of the ability to express in a language, as seen in individuals with intellectual disability.
Viewing language as the symbolic expression of thought is a philosophical way to look at early childhood education. It suggests that language is not just about learning words; it is about a child learning that one thing, be it a sound, a scribble, or a gesture, can represent something else, such as an object, a feeling, or an idea. It facilitates the ever-so-important understanding of the given occurrence rather than committing it purely to memory. In the world of a 0–5-year-old, this “symbolic leap” of understanding is the single most important cognitive milestone.
Of course, learning a language or even more than one language is absolutely crucial for education. Here is how that viewpoint fits into early life education:
1. From Concrete to Abstract
Infants live in a “concrete” world: if they cannot see it or touch it, it does not exist. Early education helps them to move toward symbolic thought. When a toddler realises that the sound “ball” stands for that round, bouncy thing in the corner, they have decoded a symbol. Teachers and parents need to facilitate this by connecting physical objects to labels constantly. This is why “Show and Tell” is a staple of early education, as it gently compels the child to use symbols, words or actions to describe a tangible object to others, who might not even see it clearly.
2. The Multi-Modal Nature of Symbols
Because language is “symbolic,” it does not matter how exactly it is expressed. The human brain treats spoken words, written text, and sign language with similar neural machinery.
Many educators advocate the use of “Baby Signs” (simple gestures) before a child can speak. This is powerful because it proves the child has the thought (e.g., “I am hungry”) and can use a symbol like putting the hand to the mouth, before their vocal cords are physically ready to produce the word denoting hunger.
Writing is the most abstract symbol of all: it is a squiggle written on a page, representing a sound, which represents an idea or a thought. Early childhood education prepares children for this by encouraging “emergent writing” (scribbling), even where a child proudly points to a messy circle that the child has drawn and says, “This says ‘I love Mommy’.”
3. Symbolic Play (The Dress Rehearsal)
As recognised in many quarters, play is where this theory comes to life. Between ages 2 and 3, children enter the Symbolic Play stage. Often, there is object substitution, as when a child picks up a banana and holds it to his or her ear like a telephone. In effect, this is a massive intellectual achievement. The child is mentally “decoupling” the object from its physical reality and assigning it a symbolic meaning. In early education, we need to encourage this because if a child can use a block as a “car,” they are developing the mental flexibility required to later understand that the letter “C” stands for the sound of “K” as well.
4. Language as a Tool for “Internal Thought”
Perhaps the most fascinating fit is the work of psychologist Lev Vygotsky, who argued that language eventually turns inward to become private speech. Have you ever seen a 4-year-old talking to himself or herself while building a toy tower? “No, the big one goes here….. the red one goes here…. steady… there.” That is a form of self-regulation. Educators encourage this “thinking out loudly.” It is the way children use the symbol system of language to organise their own thoughts and solve problems. Eventually, this speech becomes silent as “inner thought.”
Finally, there is the charming thought of the feasibility of conversing with very young children in two or even three or more languages. In Sri Lanka, the three main languages are Sinhala, Tamil and English. There are questions asked as to whether it is OK to talk to little ones in all three languages or even in two, so that they would learn?
According to scientific authorities, the short, clear and unequivocal answer to that query is that not only is it “OK”, it is also a significant cognitive gift to a child.
In a trilingual environment like Sri Lanka, many parents worry that multiple languages will “confuse” a child or cause a “speech delay.” However, modern neuroscience has debunked these myths. The infant brain is perfectly capable of building three or even more separate “lexicons” (vocabularies) simultaneously.
Here is how the “symbolic expression of thought” works in a multilingual brain and how we can manage it effectively.
a). The “Multiple Labels” Phenomenon
In a monolingual home, a child learns one symbol for an object. For example, take the word “Apple.” In a Sri Lankan trilingual home, the child learns three symbols for that same thought:
* Apple (English)
* Apal
(Sinhala – ඇපල්)
* Appil
(Tamil – ஆப்பிள்)
Because the trilingual child learns that one “thought” can be expressed by multiple “symbols,” the child’s brain becomes more flexible. This is why bilingual and trilingual children often score higher on tasks involving “executive function”, meaning the ability to switch focus and solve complex problems.
b). Is there a “Delay”?
(The Common Myth)
One might notice that a child in a trilingual home may start to speak slightly later than a monolingual peer, or they might have a smaller vocabulary in each language at age two.
However, if one adds up the total number of words they know across all three languages, they are usually ahead of monolingual children. By age five, they typically catch up in all languages and possess a much more “plastic” and adaptable brain.
c). Strategies for Success: How to Do It?
To help the child’s brain organise these three symbol systems, it helps to have some “consistency.” Here are the two most effective methods:
* One Person, One Language (OPOL), the so-called “gold standard” for multilingual families.
Amma
speaks only Sinhala, while the Father speaks only English, and the Grandparents or Nanny speak only Tamil. The child learns to associate a specific language with a specific person. Their brain creates a “map”: “When I talk to Amma, I use these sounds; when I talk to Thaththa, I use those,” etc.
*
Situational/Contextual Learning. If the parents speak all three, one could divide languages by “environment”: English at the dinner table, Sinhala during play and bath time and Tamil when visiting relatives or at the market.
These, of course, need NOT be very rigid rules, but general guidance, applied judiciously and ever-so-kindly.
d). “Code-Mixing” is Normal
We need not be alarmed if a 3-year-old says something like: “Ammi, I want that palam (fruit).” This is called Code-Mixing. It is NOT a sign of confusion; it is a sign of efficiency. The child’s brain is searching for the quickest way to express a thought and grabs the most “available” word from their three language cupboards. As they get older, perhaps around age 4 or 5, they will naturally learn to separate them perfectly.
e). The “Sri Lankan Advantage”
Growing up trilingual in Sri Lanka provides a massive social and cognitive advantage.
For a start, there will be Cultural Empathy. Language actually carries culture. A child who speaks Sinhala, Tamil, and English can navigate all social spheres of the country quite effortlessly.
In addition, there are the benefits of a Phonetic Range. Sinhala and Tamil have many sounds that do not exist in English (and even vice versa). Learning these as a child wires the ears to hear and reproduce almost any human sound, making it much easier to learn more languages (like French or Japanese) later in life.
As an abiding thought, it is the considered opinion of the author that a trilingual Sri Lanka will go a long way towards the goals and display of racial harmony, respect for different ethnic groups, and unrivalled national coordination in our beautiful Motherland. Then it would become a utopian heaven, where all people, as just Sri Lankans, can live in admirable concordant synchrony, rather than as splintered clusters divided by ethnicity, language and culture.
A Helpful Summary Checklist for Parents
* Do Not Drop a Language:
If you stop speaking Tamil because you are worried about English, the child loses that “neural real estate.” Keep all three languages going.
* High-Quality Input:
Do not just use “commands” (Eat! Sleep!). Use the Parentese and Serve and Return methods (mentioned in an earlier article) in all the languages.
* Employ Patience:
If the little one mixes up some words, just model the right words and gently correct the sentence and present it to the child like a suggestion, without scolding or finding fault with him or her. The child will then learn effortlessly and without resentment or shame.
by Dr b. J. C. Perera
MBBS(Cey), DCH(Cey), DCH(Eng), MD(Paediatrics), MRCP(UK), FRCP(Edin), FRCP(Lond), FRCPCH(UK), FSLCPaed, FCCP, Hony.
FRCPCH(UK), Hony. FCGP(SL)
Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow, Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka
Features
SIMPSON’S … set to carve a distinct sonic identity
It is, indeed, encouraging to see our local artistes working on new formats, where their music is concerned.
Variety is the spice of life, they say, and I do agree, especially when it comes to music.
Blending modern synth textures, ambient layers and soulful undertones, the group SIMPSON’S is set to carve a distinct sonic identity within Sri Lanka’s contemporary music landscape.
Their vision, they say, is not simply to produce songs, but to create emotional atmospheres – experiences that elevate, energise and resonate, both locally and beyond.
This four-piece outfit came into the scene, less than two years ago, and they are already making waves with their debut single ‘Balaporottuwak’ (Hope).
The song, I’m told, marks the beginning of a new sound, and at the forefront of ‘Balaporottuwak’ is the group’s lead vocalist and guitarist, Ryo Hera, who brings a rich cultural heritage to the stage.
As a professional Kandyan Wes dancer, Ryo’s commanding presence and textured vocals bring a distinct energy to the band’s sound.
‘Balaporottuwak’

Ryo Hera: Vocals for ‘Balaporottuwak’
is more than just a debut single – it’s a declaration of intent. The band is merging tradition and modernity, power and subtlety, to create a sound that’s both authentic and innovative.
With this song, SIMPSON’S is inviting listeners to join them on an evolving musical journey, one that’s built on vision and creativity.
The recording process for ‘Balaporottuwak’ was organic and instinctive, with the band shaping the song through live studio sessions.
Dileepa Liyanage, the keyboardist and composer, is the principal sound mind behind SIMPSON’S.
With experience spanning background scores, commercial projects, cinematic themes and jingles across multiple genres, Dileepa brings structural finesse and atmospheric depth to the band’s arrangements.
He described the recording process of ‘Balaporottuwak’ as organic and instinctive: “When Ryo Hera opens his voice, it becomes effortless to shape it into any musical colour. The tone naturally adapts.”
The band’s lineup includes Buddhima Chalanu on bass, and Savidya Yasaru on drums, and, together, they create a sound that’s not just a reflection of their individual talents, but a collective vision.

Dileepa Liyanage: Brings
structural finesse and
atmospheric depth to the
band’s arrangements
What sets SIMPSON’S apart is their decision to keep the production in-house – mixing and mastering the song themselves. This allows them to maintain their unique sound and artistic autonomy.
“We work as a family and each member is given the freedom to work out his music on the instruments he handles and then, in the studio, we put everything together,” said Dileepa, adding that their goal is to release an album, made up of Sinhala and English songs.
Steering this creative core is manager Mangala Samarajeewa, whose early career included managing various international artistes. His guidance has positioned SIMPSON’S not merely as a performing unit, but as a carefully envisioned project – one aimed at expanding Sri Lanka’s contemporary music vocabulary.
SIMPSON’S are quite active in the scene here, performing, on a regular basis, at popular venues in Colombo, and down south, as well.
They are also seen, and heard, on Spotify, TikTok, Apple Music, iTunes, and Deezer.
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