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The story I had to tell

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Excerpted from Chosen Ground: The Clara Motwani Saga by Goolbai Gunasekare

“You have a story to tell,” said my friend Shirani Captain one day, when we were idly chatting about our parents and the peculiarities of their era. “Why don’t you write it?” And so began this book.

Shirani had an English mother, and like me, was half Asian. There was, however, no other resemblance in our juvenile backgrounds. Shirani’s days were not encompassed by academics. She led a far more normal life vis-a-vis the norms and customs of the day. Her parents, Mr. L.A. Weerasinghe (former Auditor General of Sri Lanka) and his wife, played golf regularly, and led a very active social life: a luxury denied to my Professor/Principal parents, whose careers occupied all their time.

But we did have one link that held us solidly together in our teenage years. We each had a young male admirer. These two young swains, Bunchy and Sohli, happened to be best friends. Ergo, it was inevitable that their ‘girlfriends’ would team up in efforts to hoodwink parental authority as best they could, and aid each other in all the downright lies that are told in the furtherance of illicit meetings and other clandestine rendezvous (the only way we got to meet anyone not ticked off as approved acquaintances in parental diaries).

Romance bubbled merrily behind our parents’ backs. To have a `boyfriend’, even a ‘friend’ who happened to be a boy, was not to be thought of. When it came to boys, even the most liberal parents drew cords of discipline so tight we never got to breathe the heady air of teenage freedom. We had none. Even my mother, so broadminded in general, tended to share in the common adult suspicion that hung around teenage doings.

Strangely enough my parents were agreed upon that one restriction. Liberal as they were, their liberality did not extend to too much freedom of movement where the opposite sex was concerned. Father brought us up on the Rama/Sita mindset. Not that he approved of the chauvinistic Rama’s conduct, but he totally loved Sita’s gracefully yielding ways. Mrs. Girlie Cooke, my friend Mohini’s mother, endeared herself to Father because of her very traditional Tamil appearance and, he assumed, her gracefully yielding ways. He was quite wrong.

Aunty Girlie’s appearance was most deceptive. Beneath her traditional demeanour, was (for her times) a very forward-thinking and free spirit. Her booming serve at tennis, a game she played in a crisp white cotton sari, had her daughter, Mohini and me running off the court rather than face its power.

It was thanks to her intervention that Father allowed me to attend a dance with friends. It was thanks to her that I was allowed (oh, giddy delight) to become modernized outwardly, and actually wear make up. Once I had gone away to university in Bombay, of course, nothing Father said would have prevented that very modernization he disliked.

My parents were mentally and educationally forward-thinking, but they operated within the rules of the East as far as behaviour went. Obviously they did something right. We were given guidelines as to mature behaviour, and then expected to conduct ourselves accordingly.

One or two of my traditionally reared classmates actually braved the wrath of their parents and eloped with quite unsuitable men. They lived to regret it. But the majority … in particular my classmates and closest friends for the last 55 years, Sunetra, Punyakante, Indrani, Mohini, and Hyacinth had marriages arranged for them when they were still quite young. They lived happily ever after as their parents, and mine, expected them to do.

I was away at university when my close friend, Chereen, the class beauty, married. Hers had been a romantic liaison, but parental approval was gained in spite of the fact that in her case a Roman Catholic was marrying an Anglican (and having to brave initial opposition).

Religion was not something our parents harped upon (and when I say ‘our parents’ I mean Suriya’s, Kumari’s and mine). It mattered little to these three sets of parents if the men we chose to marry were theists, atheists, agnostics or even downright heretics. They believed that intelligence should be brought to bear on the matter of personal religion. In their view, organized religion did more harm than good. They felt it divided people, caused wars and resulted in catastrophic disasters.

Suriya, Kumari and I behaved as our parents expected us to do. We did not confound polite society by choosing unsuitable young men. Our partners were approved by all, and somehow we got the impression that our parents expected no less. Religion was never a problem. Our eclecticism caused us to blend comfortably with everyone although truth to tell, I love going to Church. But it is atmosphere rather than dogma that attracts me there.

While Mother and Father were strict in not allowing too much mixing with the opposite sex, they had no objection to boys visiting us at home. They treated all such visitors with courtesy, but did not show them too much warmth. They certainly did not expect every caller to have a walk up the aisle in mind.

“It’s an excellent thing to have many friends,” Mother would say bracingly.

Nonetheless, a wary eye was kept on any trysts that did not take place in full view of parental eyes. Given Su’s record of littering her pathway with broken hearts, it was with a sigh of relief that her wedding in Delhi to young Captain (later Brigadier) Kailash Kalley was greeted. Kailash is an alumnus of the famous Doone School in Dehra Dun, India, and there was a faint surprise in Mother’s happy acceptance of this ‘good’ marriage.

Fortunately, Father did not live to see Su’s marriage end in divorce. It would have caused him much pain, especially as Su has a lovely daughter whom we promptly nicknamed `Bambi’ because of her lambent, doe-like looks.

One of the great sorrows of Mother’s life was that after Su’s separation, she was not granted access to Bambi. Bambi’s father was very embittered by the divorce, and refused to even send his daughter to spend her vacations with us. Mother wrote many times but they were vain attempts. She never saw Bambi again and although she rarely spoke of the deep hurt it caused, I know she mourned the loss of not knowing her other grandchild.

A journalist who interviewed me once for a Women’s Page article in one of the daily papers asked me if I had never desired a more `ordinary background’. Did I not feel that I had always been ‘different’ from my contemporaries, and did I not mind the difference? Frankly, I never thought of it. Mother and Father were always held in such high esteem that both Su and I were very proud to be introduced as Dr. and Mrs. Motwani’s daughters.

In their wisdom, they trained us to think of ourselves as Sri Lankans. Father even brought me back from my school in Ooty in time to offer Sinhala as a subject for my O-Level examination. This qualification made it possible for me to work for a year at the Sri Lanka Broadcasting Corporation (then Radio Ceylon). To get any Government job that Sinhala language pass at the O-Level was vital.

I think that as time went by, both Mother and Father felt so Sri Lankan that they were out of tune with the rest of the world. Tours abroad ceased to hold any charm for either of them, and they became typical, retired Colombo-ites. Mother’s doctor used to ask from rime to time if she ever was depressed. Mother was surprised. “Should I be?” she asked. “Retirement often does that to people,” he would reply.

Mother had a secret weapon against depression. Each night, she told me, she would lie in bed and count her many blessings. One day she wrote them out for me. I have the list with me to this day and I am constantly amazed that this well-known public person savoured the small things in life. One of the blessings that she mentions is that she could have tea with her family every day at 4.30 each evening, during the time that she lived with us. It was a time for leisurely conversation and she treasured it. My husband’s and our daughter’s love for her was high on her list.

When we were growing up, Mother’s photograph would be in the papers on a daily basis — so involved was she in dozens of projects. Nor was her name on these many committees merely window-dressing. She really worked with whatever committee she happened to be heading. Leisure-time relaxation was therefore a blessing.

A few days ago, a father brought his nine-year-old daughter to be enrolled at the Asian International School. I asked him why he had opted for this particular school among so many others.

“Well, your mother was my mother’s Principal,” he said, “and my mother told me that if you were even half as good as she was, you would still be pretty good.”

I knew what he meant. It is a comparison which is often made, and one in which I suffer by contrast. Nor do I expect it to be otherwise.

My wise and wonderful mother was one of a kind. What marvellous Karmic links gave me such special and such unusual parents? How were they able to transform an alien island into home? What arcane secret did they possess, that enabled them to become one with the people of the country they chose to live in?

We were not Sinhalese, Tamil, Muslim or Burgher but we were, as Mother said, ‘proudly Sri Lankan’. When Sir John Kotelawala’s government gave Mother the Distinguished Citizenship award, the Dual Citizenship Act had not been passed. Mother would have had to give up her American citizenship in order to accept the Sri Lankan one. She did it, despite the world telling her she was crazy to do so. She knew she would never live anywhere else other than here, in the lovely island of Sri Lanka — her chosen ground.

When Mother died there was an outpouring of tributes to her, both as a Principal and as an educationist. What was most touching, however, were the personal messages from those who knew her as a friend and not just as a public figure. She died in her sleep in 1989, on my husband’s birthday, the 21st of July. Following her often-voiced wish that large numbers of schoolgirls should not be forced to stand around in the sun at her funeral, she was cremated immediately, very privately, with only her family and close friends present. Mother assumed, rightly, that the schools she had headed would feel it necessary to make a showing if the funeral was public.

My parents were both believers in the laws of Karma and rebirth. In seeking for the right words with which to close this book, I cannot find them in my own mind. Nothing I can say is an adequate tribute to my wonderful Mother. Let me therefore borrow the words of another:

“This day has ended

It is closing upon us even now as the water-lily upon its own tomorrow.

Farewell to you and the youth I spent with you. It was but yesterday we met in a dream.

If, in the twilight of memory we should meet once more, we shall speak again together and you shall sing me a deeper song

And if hands should meet in another dream we shall build another tower in the sky. “

From The Prophet by Khalil Gibran

It is the mark of that rarity, a true teacher, that she can build these ‘towers in the sky’ for her pupils. Mother did this for thousands of grateful young girls – and most importantly, she did it for me.



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Humanitarian leadership in a time of war

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Sri Lanka Navy rescuing survivors of the US torpedo attack on IRIS Dena last week

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

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Language: The symbolic expression of thought

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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

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SIMPSON’S … set to carve a distinct sonic identity

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SIMPSON’S: Quite active in the scene here

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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