Features
The story I had to tell
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.
Features
Power crept into the Sangha and is now tearing it apart
For more than a century, Sri Lankan society has lived with a quiet contradiction at the heart of its religious life. On the one hand, the Buddhist monk is revered as the embodiment of moral discipline, selfrestraint, and renunciation. On the other, the modern monk has become a public figure, political actor, administrator, media personality, and in some cases power broker whose influence extends far beyond the temple. This contradiction has been tolerated, even celebrated, for decades. But recent events, most notably a widely publicised case involving a senior monk accused of grave moral misconduct, have forced the country to confront a painful truth: the institutional conditions that make such scandals possible are not new. They are the predictable outcome of a long historical process that H. L. Seneviratne described with remarkable clarity in The Work of Kings. The moral deterioration visible today is not an aberration. It is the culmination of a centurylong transformation in the identity, function, and authority of the Sangha.
To understand how we arrived at this moment, it is necessary to revisit the argument Seneviratne made nearly three decades ago. His thesis was simple but profound: the modern Sri Lankan monkhood has taken on the ‘work of kings.’ By this he meant that monks, instead of confining themselves to the renunciant life prescribed by the Vinaya, have assumed the secular responsibilities once associated with precolonial kingship, such as protecting the religion, organising society, guiding the nation, and enforcing moral order. This shift, he argued, was not a natural evolution of Buddhist tradition but a modern invention shaped by colonialism, nationalism, and the anxieties of a society struggling to redefine itself in the face of foreign domination. The monk became a symbol of national identity, a guardian of cultural authenticity, and a leader in the struggle for political autonomy. In the process, the boundaries that once separated the monastic from the worldly began to dissolve.
Transformation
The consequences of this transformation were not immediately visible. For decades, the activist monk was celebrated as a patriot, a reformer, and a moral guide. His involvement in education, social welfare, and nationalist mobilisation was seen as a necessary response to colonial pressures and missionary competition. But beneath the surface, the foundations of monastic discipline were slowly eroding. The Vinaya, which had served for centuries as a rigorous framework for regulating monastic life, was increasingly overshadowed by the demands of public engagement. The communal structures that once ensured accountability, senior supervision, collective confession, and the daily rhythms of monastic routine, were weakened by the pressures of modernity. Monks who travelled constantly, managed institutions, or lived independently in urban temples found themselves outside the traditional systems of oversight that had long protected the integrity of the Sangha.
Scandal
It is within this historical context that the recent scandal must be understood. The case shocked the nation not only because of the severity of the allegations but because it shattered the public’s assumption that the monkhood remains a bastion of moral purity. Yet the shock itself reveals a collective denial. For years, Sri Lankan society has been aware, sometimes quietly, sometimes openly—of the growing gap between the ideal of the monk and the realities of modern monastic life. Stories of misconduct, financial irregularities, political manipulation, and abuse of authority have circulated with increasing frequency. But each incident has been treated as an isolated failure, a personal weakness, or an unfortunate exception. What has been missing is recognition that these incidents are symptoms of a deeper structural problem.
Seneviratne’s analysis helps illuminate this problem. When monks take on the work of kings, they inevitably enter domains of power that expose them to temptations the Vinaya was designed to avoid. Handling money, managing institutions, cultivating political patrons, and exercising authority over laypeople create opportunities for ego, ambition, and moral compromise. The monk who becomes a public figure is no longer shielded by the anonymity and humility of the renunciant life. Instead, he becomes a celebrity, a leader, and in some cases an object of uncritical devotion. This elevation brings with it a dangerous form of immunity. Laypeople who revere a monk for his public achievements may hesitate to question his behaviour. Politicians who rely on monastic support may protect him from scrutiny. The media, which often treats monks as moral authorities, may be reluctant to investigate allegations that challenge the sanctity of the robe.
The recent scandal illustrates how these dynamics can converge. The monk at the centre of the case was not an obscure figure. He was a respected preacher, charismatic leader, and head of a prominent institution. His public image was built on years of service, teaching, and community engagement. Yet it was precisely this public stature that allowed him to operate without meaningful oversight. The institutional structures around him, administrators, lay supporters, and junior monks, were either unwilling or unable to challenge his authority. The very qualities that made him a respected figure in the eyes of the public also made him untouchable within his own institution. When allegations finally emerged, they revealed not only personal wrongdoing but a systemic failure of accountability.
Failure that is not unique
This failure is not unique to one temple or one monk. It reflects a broader pattern within the modern Sangha. As monastic institutions have grown in size, wealth, and influence, their internal governance has struggled to keep pace. Many temples operate as semiautonomous entities controlled by a single monk or a small group of monks. Financial transparency is limited, administrative oversight is weak, and the mechanisms for addressing misconduct are often informal or ineffective. The traditional structures of monastic discipline, such as the Sangharama procedures for adjudicating offences, are rarely used in modern contexts, partly because they require collective participation and partly because they are illsuited to the complexities of contemporary institutional life. In practice, this means that monks who wield significant authority can act with little fear of internal sanction.
The politicisation of the Sangha has further complicated matters. Since the midtwentieth century, monks have played an increasingly prominent role in electoral politics, nationalist movements, and public policy debates. This involvement has given them access to political networks that can be mobilised to protect their interests. It has also created a culture in which monks are valued not for their adherence to the Vinaya but for their ability to influence public opinion, mobilise voters, or lend moral legitimacy to political causes. In such an environment, the monk who is politically useful may be shielded from criticism, while the monk who adheres strictly to the renunciant ideal may find himself marginalised or ignored.
The result is a profound distortion of monastic identity. The monk who once sought liberation from worldly attachments is now encouraged to cultivate influence, authority, and public recognition. The monk who once lived under the strict supervision of senior elders now operates in a world where independence is celebrated and oversight is minimal. The monk who once relied on laypeople for basic sustenance now controls vast resources, manages institutions, and commands the loyalty of thousands of followers. This inversion of traditional roles has created a fertile ground for moral deterioration.
Yet it would be a mistake to interpret this deterioration as evidence that the Sangha as a whole is corrupt. Many monks continue to live lives of remarkable discipline, humility, and spiritual dedication. In remote forest monasteries, small village temples, and meditation centres across the country, monks quietly uphold the ancient ideals of the renunciant life. They are not the ones who appear on television, lead political rallies, or manage large institutions. Their work is invisible, their influence subtle, and their commitment unwavering. The crisis facing the Sangha today is not a crisis of individual morality but a crisis of institutional identity. It is the product of a centurylong transformation that has blurred the boundaries between the monastic and the secular, the spiritual and the political, the renunciant and the worldly.
If Sri Lanka is to address this crisis, it must begin by acknowledging the structural nature of the problem. The temptation to treat each scandal as an isolated incident must be resisted. Instead, the country must confront the uncomfortable reality that the modern configuration of monastic life is fundamentally at odds with the principles of the Vinaya. The Sangha cannot simultaneously function as a political force, a social service provider, a media institution, and a spiritual community without compromising its integrity. The more monks are drawn into the world, the more vulnerable they become to the moral dangers that the Buddha warned against.
Reform, therefore, must focus not only on punishing individual offenders but on rethinking the institutional structures that enable misconduct. This includes strengthening internal governance, enhancing financial transparency, restoring the authority of senior elders, and reestablishing the communal practices that once ensured accountability. It also requires a broader cultural shift in how laypeople relate to monks. Blind devotion must give way to informed respect. Reverence must be balanced with responsibility. The robe must be honoured, but it must not be used as a shield against scrutiny.
Seneviratne’s work offers a valuable starting point for this rethinking. His analysis reminds us that the crisis facing the Sangha is not the result of moral decline alone but of historical forces that reshaped the identity of the monkhood. By tracing the evolution of the activist monk, he shows how the Sangha became entangled in the political and social structures of the modern nationstate. This entanglement has brought both benefits and dangers. It has allowed monks to play important roles in education, social welfare, and national development. But it has also exposed them to the corrupting influences of power, wealth, and public acclaim.
The challenge now is to disentangle the Sangha from these influences without undermining its ability to serve society. This will not be easy. The activist monk has become deeply embedded in the cultural and political fabric of the country. Many laypeople expect monks to be leaders, reformers, and guardians of national identity. Politicians rely on monastic support to legitimise their agendas. Media institutions depend on monks for content, commentary, and moral authority. Reversing this trend will require a collective effort from monks, laypeople, and political leaders alike.
Ultimately, the future of the Sangha depends on its ability to reclaim the renunciant ideal that lies at the heart of Buddhist monasticism. This does not mean withdrawing from society entirely, but it does mean reestablishing the boundaries that protect the monk from the dangers of worldly involvement. It means recognising that the true strength of the Sangha lies not in its political influence or institutional power but in its moral authority, its spiritual discipline, and its commitment to the path of liberation. The recent scandal, painful as it is, may serve as a catalyst for this reevaluation. It has exposed the vulnerabilities of the modern monastic system and forced the country to confront the consequences of a centurylong transformation.
To understand how the Vihara Devalegam Act relates to the perceived moral deformation of the clergy, it is necessary to examine how property management, state law, and monastic discipline intersect in the modern era. Historically stemming from the Buddhist Temporalities Ordinance No. 19 of 1931, this act serves as the primary legal framework governing the ‘temporalities’—meaning the secular wealth, extensive landholdings, and material donations belonging to Buddhist temples and shrines. While ancient kings granted these vast tracts of land to support the monkhood’s spiritual pursuits, the modern codification of this law has inadvertently fostered a system where property rights frequently supersede spiritual accountability.
The core of the crisis lies in the commercialisation of the monastic order that this legal framework enables. By treating temple lands as economic assets and vesting absolute administrative power in individual chief monks or lay trustees, the act has contributed to the rise of what critics term a monastic middle class. Access to vast, unregulated financial resources, rent from lands, and corporate donations has fundamentally shifted the focus of certain segments of the clergy away from the traditional path of worldly renunciation and spiritual guidance. Instead, it has driven a preoccupation with business investments, the accumulation of private capital, and luxury lifestyles, which deeply alienates a public looking to the Sangha for moral leadership.
The institutional flaws embedded in the Vihara Devalegam Act find a stark, real-world manifestation in the recent criminal case involving Venerable Pallegama Hemarathana Thero. As the chief priest of Anuradhapura and the custodian of the Atamasthana—the eight highly venerated Buddhist shrines, including the sacred Jaya Sri Maha Bodhi—Hemarathana Thero occupied one of the most powerful and wealthy positions within the Sri Lankan Sangha. His arrest on charges of sexual abuse of a minor girl perfectly illustrates how the structural defects of the Act facilitate not only moral decay but also the systemic obstruction of justice.
The core of this intersection lies in the vast, unaccountable wealth generated by the temporalities of the Anuradhapura shrines. Under the Vihara Devalegam Act, the chief custodian exercises immense, virtually unchecked control over temple revenues, state-backed land management, and millions of rupees in daily donations from millions of global pilgrims. It is precisely this immense financial liquidity that enabled the alleged deployment of vast sums of money to the victim’s family.
Furthermore, the situation underscores the profound policy failures cited regarding the helplessness of the monastic hierarchy and state enforcement. When child protection authorities initially attempted to act, the National Child Protection Authority noted severe delays and institutional resistance, stating they practically had to force the police to execute the arrest. The monk’s immediate retreat to a private hospital in Colombo upon the advancement of the criminal probe, followed by his release on bail, mirrors the exact loop described where wealthy monastics deploy high-priced legal defence teams funded directly or indirectly by their institutional positions. Because the Vihara Devalegam Act does not provide a mechanism for the immediate, unconditional forfeiture of temporal administrative rights upon a criminal indictment, the accused retains his structural power throughout the legal process. The Pallegama Thero scandal stands as definitive proof that without a fundamental overhaul of how temple wealth is legally governed and disciplined, the material benefits guaranteed by ancient temporalities will continue to shield the worst elements of moral deformation from the rule of law.
If Sri Lanka can learn from this moment and if it can recognise the structural roots of the crisis and commit to meaningful reform, then the Sangha may yet emerge stronger, more disciplined, and more faithful to its ancient ideals. But if the country continues to treat each scandal as an isolated failure and if it continues to ignore the deeper institutional problems that Seneviratne identified, then the moral deterioration we see today will only deepen. The work of kings, when performed by monks, carries a heavy price. It is time to decide whether that price is worth paying.
by Professor Amarasiri de Silva
Features
Kondachchi wind farm and battery storage project to boost energy security, says Power Ministry Secretary
The Power and Energy Ministry’s drive towards energy security and renewable energy expansion received a major boost yesterday with the signing of a tripartite cooperation agreement for the development of the 150 MW Kondachchi Wind Power Project and an integrated Battery Energy Storage System (BESS) in Mannar.
The agreement was signed at the Ministry of Power auditorium under the patronage of Power Minister Anura Karunatilaka and Deputy Power Minister Arkam Ilyas.
Speaking at the event, Ministry Secretary G. M. R. D. Aponsu described the project as a transformative investment that would strengthen the country’s electricity network while supporting Sri Lanka’s transition towards cleaner energy sources.
“The Kondachchi Wind Power Project represents a significant milestone in Sri Lanka’s renewable energy journey. By combining large-scale wind generation with advanced battery energy storage technology, we are creating a more resilient and reliable power system capable of meeting future energy demands while reducing dependence on imported fossil fuels,” Aponsu said.
The project will be developed at Silavathurai in the Kondachchi area of Mannar on lands owned by the Sri Lanka Cashew Corporation. It is expected to utilise some 31 modern wind turbines with a total installed capacity of at least 150 MW.
Aponsu said the inclusion of an integrated battery storage facility would help address the variability associated with wind power generation and ensure stable electricity supply to the national grid.
“The battery energy storage component is a key feature of this project. It will enable the efficient integration of renewable energy into the grid and enhance overall system stability, which is essential as Sri Lanka increases the share of renewables in its energy mix,” he said.
According to the Ministry, the wind farm is expected to generate nearly 525 gigawatt-hours of electricity annually, significantly reducing the country’s expenditure on imported fuel and strengthening national energy security.
The project is also expected to contribute to Sri Lanka’s climate commitments by reducing carbon dioxide emissions by an estimated 372,750 tonnes annually.
“This investment delivers both economic and environmental benefits. It will reduce greenhouse gas emissions, support sustainable development objectives and help Sri Lanka move closer to achieving its renewable energy and climate targets,” Aponsu noted.
The project will be implemented under a Public-Private Partnership (PPP) arrangement using the Build, Own and Operate (BOO) model. The Asian Development Bank is providing technical and financial advisory support through its Transaction Advisory Services programme.
The signing ceremony was attended by Pradeep Perera, Chairman of the National System Operator (Pvt) Ltd., and Takeyo Koike, Head of Market Development and Public-Private Partnership Division of the ADB, among other distinguished guests.
The Ministry said comprehensive Environmental Impact Assessments and avifaunal studies have been undertaken to ensure minimal impacts on bird populations, nearby communities and agricultural lands. A dedicated 220-kilovolt transmission system will also be constructed to connect the project to the national grid.
“The Kondachchi Wind Farm is a strategic national project that will help secure Sri Lanka’s energy future while accelerating the country’s transition towards sustainable and affordable electricity generation,” Aponsu said.
Energy sector experts view the project as one of the most important renewable energy initiatives currently being pursued in Sri Lanka, combining utility-scale wind generation with modern energy storage technology to enhance grid reliability and long-term energy sustainability.
By Ifham Nizam
Features
Saudi Arabia sets new benchmark in Hajj management as 1.7 million pilgrims complete sacred journey
Interview with Khalid Hamoud Al-Kahtani, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to Sri Lanka
Saudi Arabia has once again demonstrated its unparalleled capacity to manage one of the world’s largest annual religious gatherings, with this year’s Hajj pilgrimage concluding successfully despite extreme temperatures and the immense logistical challenge of accommodating more than 1.7 million pilgrims from around the world.
In an exclusive interview with The Island, Khalid Hamoud Al-Kahtani, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to Sri Lanka, described the 2026 Hajj season as a resounding success, crediting the achievement to the visionary leadership of the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince and Prime Minister, and the coordinated efforts of multiple government agencies working around the clock to serve pilgrims.
The Ambassador noted that nearly 3,500 Sri Lankan pilgrims participated in this year’s Hajj under the quota allocated to Sri Lanka, benefiting from enhanced healthcare services, sophisticated crowd-management systems, expanded shaded areas and cutting-edge digital solutions introduced by the Kingdom.
With Saudi Arabia continuing to invest heavily in infrastructure, technology and pilgrim services under Vision 2030, Ambassador Al-Kahtani said the Kingdom remains committed to ensuring that pilgrims from around the world perform their religious duties in safety, comfort and tranquility.
The Saudi envoy also highlighted the growing partnership between Saudi Arabia and Sri Lanka, emphasising expanding cooperation not only in Hajj affairs but also in trade, investment, education, culture and institutional exchanges.
Following are excerpts of the interview:
Q: How do you assess this year’s Hajj season?
Ambassador Al-Kahtani: This year’s Hajj season was a resounding success, thanks to the Almighty Allah and the integrated efforts of the government of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, led by the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques and His Royal Highness the Crown Prince and Prime Minister. This success was reflected in the efficiency of crowd management, the quality of services provided to the Hajj pilgrims and the effective coordination among the various relevant authorities, which enabled pilgrims to perform their rituals in an atmosphere of security, tranquility and ease.
Q: How many Sri Lankan pilgrims performed Hajj this year?
Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The number of Hajj pilgrims from the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka reached approximately 3,500, within the quota allocated to Sri Lanka for this season.
Q: Are there any discussions regarding increasing Sri Lanka’s quota in the future?
Ambassador Al-Kahtani:Hajj quotas are determined according to approved regulatory mechanisms that take into account a range of considerations. The relevant authorities in the Kingdom continue to study various aspects related to developing Hajj services and accommodating the allocated numbers for all countries, in coordination with the concerned parties.
Q: What were the most prominent special arrangements implemented this year?
Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The operational plans for this season focused on enhancing the safety and comfort of the Hajj pilgrims, especially given the climatic conditions and high temperatures. Measures included expanding shaded areas, increasing water distribution points and enhancing health and ambulance services, in addition to developing the transportation system and traffic management within the holy sites.
Q: What are the most prominent digital systems and smart services that were provided?
Ambassador Al-Kahtani:The Kingdom continues to implement its digital transformation objectives for the Hajj and Umrah system. The scope of electronic services offered through the Nusuk platform and application has been expanded, along with the development of digital systems for issuing permits, managing crowds, guidance and health services. This contributes to increasing the efficiency of services and improving the pilgrim’s experience at all stages of their journey.
Q: How were the challenges of overcrowding and heat addressed?
Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The relevant authorities adopted an integrated crowd-management system based on modern technologies and real-time data analysis. This was coupled with intensified health-awareness campaigns, expanded organised movement routes and increased deployment of field, medical and emergency teams. These measures support the safety of the Hajj pilgrims and reduce the risks associated with crowd density and climatic conditions.
Q: Were there special services for the elderly and sick?
Ambassador Al-Kahtani: Yes. The Kingdom paid special attention to the elderly and people with special health needs by providing specialized medical services, assistive transportation and facilities equipped to meet their needs, in addition to field teams working to provide humanitarian support and necessary healthcare throughout the Hajj period.
Q: How successful was the Kingdom in combating irregular Hajj permits?
Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The relevant authorities in the Kingdom continued to rigorously implement the regulations and instructions governing Hajj, utilising modern technologies and advanced monitoring procedures to reduce violations related to irregular Hajj. These efforts contributed to enhancing the safety of pilgrims, improving crowd-management efficiency and maintaining the smooth flow of movement within the holy sites.
Q: How would you describe Saudi-Sri Lankan cooperation in organising Hajj?
Ambassador Al-Kahtani: Cooperation between the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and the Republic of Sri Lanka is characterised by continuous and constructive coordination in all matters related to Hajj. The relevant authorities in both countries work jointly to ensure the provision of the best services for Sri Lankan pilgrims and enable them to perform their rituals with ease and peace of mind.
Q: How many Hajj pilgrims were there globally, and what were the main challenges?
Ambassador Al-Kahtani: According to official statistics, the number of Hajj pilgrims this year reached 1,707,301 from various countries around the world. The main challenges included managing large crowds, ensuring public safety and providing health, transportation and accommodation services within a specific geographical and temporal scope. These challenges were addressed through advanced and integrated operational plans, which contributed to the smooth and successful completion of the Hajj season.
Q: Are there any future expansion projects?
Ambassador Al-Kahtani: The Kingdom continues to implement strategic development projects within the framework of Vision 2030, including developing the infrastructure in Makkah and the Holy Sites, and enhancing transportation networks and smart services. This contributes to raising the quality of services provided to pilgrims and Umrah performers and improving their long-term experience.
Q: How are Saudi-Sri Lankan relations strengthened outside the context of Hajj?
Ambassador Al-Kahtani: Relations between the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and the Republic of Sri Lanka are witnessing continuous development in many areas, including political, economic, trade, cultural and educational cooperation, in addition to developing exchanges between institutions and the private sector. This reflects the two countries’ keenness to strengthen the bilateral partnership and achieve common interests.
Q: What message would you like to convey to Sri Lankan Muslims?
Ambassador Al-Kahtani: We extend our sincere congratulations to the Hajj pilgrims who have completed their Hajj rituals, and we ask Almighty Allah to accept their pilgrimage. We also assure Muslims in Sri Lanka that the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia places serving the Two Holy Mosques and the guests of Almighty Allah at the forefront of its priorities and continues to develop the Hajj and Umrah system to achieve the highest standards of quality and safety.
By Ifham Nizam
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News6 days agoIMF urges Lanka not to meddle with exchange rate
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News3 days agoLankan duo emerge winners in Latin dance championship held in Blackpool, UK
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Business4 days agoIMF’s unstated rate:Sri Lanka’s $695m loan costs about 5.33% per annum
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News6 days agoState of emergency extended
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Features5 days agoAre threats to Buddha Sasana external or from within?
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Business4 days agoSri Lankan scientist-innovator Milinda Edirisinghe introduces AI-integrated gem testing system to gemological world
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News4 days agoUNP challenges NPP move to amend Vihara – Devalagam Act
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Latest News1 day agoKusal Mendis, Pathum Nissanka, bowlers put Sri Lanka 1-0 up
