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Travelling for WHO – first to Botswana in Africa

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Excerpted from Memories that linger”: My journey in the world of Disability
by Padmani Mendis

First Impressions and First Memories

But where are the trees? This was my first thought as the eight-seater circled the small airport at Gaborone, preparing to descend. Trees, green and water was what I was used to seeing in Asia and Europe. When I was preparing for my visit to Botswana, I had read that the Kalahari Desert was savanna on which grew grasses and small trees. Here I saw also that the ground was dry, yellow, sandy.
The airplane was small because the Gaborone airport at that time could not accommodate aircrafts that were any larger and certainly not jet aircraft. The route from Colombo required for me a transfer at Johannesburg to this eight-seater. During my first year of travel to Botswana I was fortunate that BOAC (later BA) – had a flight route that connected Hong Kong-Colombo-Johannesburg. This direct route was unprofitable and on my next visit I had to transit at either Bombay or Nairobi to get to Jo’burg. Five years later, Botswana had its own airport which they named the Sir Seretse Khama International Airport. I have not used this airport.

Sir Seretse Khama

The word Seretse Khama holds memories for me dating back to my youth. While at school and yet quite young, I saw in our morning newspaper, the “Ceylon Daily News,” what seemed to me to be an unusual photograph. It showed a couple standing arm-in-arm. The man was tall and dark with black frizzy hair. The woman was smaller with a light skin. I still see that photograph in my mind’s eye. The caption said that Seretse and Ruth Khama, formerly Ruth Williams, had married in London. The couple will be returning to Bechuanaland, a British Protectorate. Seretse Khama was the son of the former chief of Bechuanaland and was returning to be the chief himself.

This fascinated me, I know not why. I had to ask a cousin where Bechuanaland was, and she did not know either. Together we looked up the atlas I used at school to find out. Thereafter, I followed with interest what happened in that faraway country. I knew of the problems that were created by the British when Seretse returned to his country; and of the attempt by the British to have him and his English wife banished; how his people wanted him back and welcomed his wife with open arms; when it became the independent country Botswana and he became its prime minister; that the country was rich in diamonds, but was still desperately poor. Its diamonds were being mined by their neighbour, reaping the benefits of the growing diamond trade together with the benefits of apartheid for its white and wealthy minority, South Africa.

When Einar suggested that I start the CBR field trial in Botswana, I was just amazed. My reaction called for me to give an explanation to him and Gunnel. And here I was. Botswana was now a Republic and Sir Seretse Khama, GCB, KBE was its first elected President.When I related my story to Adelaide Kgosidinsti, my counterpart, she took me to visit Lady Ruth Khama. Sir Seretse’s health was failing rapidly. Ruth Khama lived in a villa-type residence, not large in appearance, with quite a few plants in the garden. I told her my story. She invited me to have tea with her.

Sir Desmond Tutu

Upon arrival in Gaborone I was met by someone from WHO and taken to check-in at the Holiday Inn Hotel. This was the only international hotel in town. There was another large hotel close to the station where most local people stayed. I too stayed there later on when Gunnel came to Botswana.While I was on the eight-seater from Jo’burg, I noticed a passenger walking down the aisle, greeting his fellow passengers. Going down to breakfast the next morning was difficult. I was alone – had never stayed in a posh hotel like this before. I was bashful and shy and probably showed it too. I sat down gingerly and ordered breakfast. Not much later came the sound of a booming voice.

Familiar from yesterday, on the plane. With a resounding “good morning” and a nod to each table, he sat down with a group.
After a while, seeing me, a lone strange woman in a saree, he came over to sit with me. He was wearing the collar indicative of his calling. Said his name was Desmond Tutu and asked if he could join me for breakfast. He talked with me at length. An exceptionally strong personality just oozed through his manner, his voice and his speech. There was no doubt that I was required to respond. Wanted to know where I was from, what my country was like, what I was doing, why I was in Gaborone, my plans and so on. He was gone the next day. The hotel people told me he had come to Jo’burg for the day to participate in a meeting. They thought he had gone on to Cape Town.

Very many years later Nalin and I went for a week’s holiday in Cape Town. On my birthday which fell on a Sunday we went to St. George’s Cathedral. Sir Desmond was Archbishop in Cape Town and St. George’s was his parish. He was preaching elsewhere that Sunday. So I did not meet Sir Desmond Tutu again. An anti-apartheid and human rights activist, he was the first black Archbishop of Cape Town, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, the Albert Schweitzer Prize for Humanitarianism and the Gandhi Peace Prize. I had him in my memories and he enriched them.

Introduction to Botswana

The next morning I was sitting at the desk of the Chief Medical Officer of the Ministry of Health or MOH. He was a Norwegian and it was he who ran the health service in Botswana from the Ministry in Gaborone. There were very few Motswana – as the people of Botswana were called – medical doctors and these few had all studied abroad. Norwegians ran the entire health service. Seeds had been sown for a countrywide Primary Health Care Programme through the Regional Medical Officers of Health. This was said to be developing well and covering large parts of the country.
When he learned who I was and what my mission was, he sent for Adelaide Darling Kgosidinsti. While we waited until she arrived he attended to the collection of files on his table. He was obviously a very busy man and did not talk much.

Adelaide arrived. A lady with a large frame and distinctly commanding presence. She looked quite beautiful with her hair made neatly into a plait and folded round her head. Her skin, as was that of the people of her country, a distinctly lighter shade than those from the countries nearer the tropics like Kenya. Even Nigeria. Adelaide was introduced to me as the Commissioner of the Special Services Unit for the Handicapped. She was in charge of all disability prevention and rehabilitation services in the country. She was my National Counterpart.
The Chief Medical Officer and Adelaide had both met Einar. Einar had been to Botswana three years before me to plan for the setting up of CBR. The Chief Medical Officer instructed Adelaide to take me to Serowe and have me start on the task I had come to do for WHO. He did not show much interest in it. As I said earlier, he was obviously a very busy man. When Adelaide asked him how we should travel, he replied, “Take her on the train.”

Adelaide, I later came to know wanted to take me by road, which is how UN consultants are usually taken. But for me it was overnight on the train. I know not why. Adelaide slept most of the way. I had learned that she was not one given to chatting anyway. I was too excited to sleep. I enjoyed that train ride and repeated it many times, up and down to Serowe, a distance of about 300 kilometres.
However, there was but one experience that I did not look forward to on that train journey each way. I was required to change trains at Palapye, an important junction. This was around two in the morning and I had to wait near enough to an hour. At these times there was no one else around except for a few drunks weaving themselves around the platform. I was safe as long as I could stay away from their line of vision. There were occasions when I could not. Then it was always a game of hide and seek.

On our arrival early morning in Serowe a vehicle from the Regional Health Office met us. Our first visit had to be the Kgotla, the Office of the Chief to obtain his approval for my visit to his village and for my work here. The chief was in his colourful formal attire knowing that a foreigner was expected. Adelaide made sure that I followed all the proper protocols required by way of seating, greeting and conversing.
The Chief was most interested in how I was going to help the people of Serowe. He told me how families cared for their disabled members and explained a few traditional beliefs. He also told me that this was the largest village in Africa, with a population of 30,000 people. It was the home of the Bamangwato tribe and home to the Khama family. He was very proud of this, and naturally so.
Then the surprise – he said that he had someone from Sri Lanka working in his office.

He said I should meet him and had him sent for. In walked Mr. Swaminathan. He was the accountant in this small Tribal Office. That evening Mr. Swaminathan brought his wife together with his young daughter and son to visit me. We became friends. His children loved to visit me and play in my room. They were fascinated by my bedside clock and radio, obviously not having seen things used in the way I did. Here in a village on my first visit to Africa I meet a Sri Lankan. Mr. Swaminathan told me there was one more in Francistown, a large town in the north and another 30 or more in Gaborone. I met some of them on subsequent visits to Gaborone.

Some years later when I went to The Gambia, a small landlocked country in West Africa, I met around 30 Sri Lankans there too. In both places many were teachers, while others were accountants and engineers. More Sri Lankans were met when I went to the Bahamas on the other side of the world. We Sri Lankans had certainly spread ourselves around the globe.

Courtesy calls and finding a place to stay

After the Kgotla Adelaide took me to the social services office – it was a small one – to introduce me to Ethel Matiza, Social Service Officer or SSO for Serowe. Adelaide said she would be my counterpart in Serowe. We packed Ethel also into the pickup truck and went on to make a courtesy call to the Regional Medical Officer. He was from Hong Kong. When he heard that I planned to be in Serowe for three months, he invited me to stay with his wife and himself. They had a large house and plenty of space for a guest.

But Adelaide was quick to say thank you on my behalf. Because, she said, that she arranged with the director at the hospital to have me accommodated there. Which was just as well, because later I had a very small difference of opinion with the RMO. Being his guest would not have been of help in that. I learned a lesson here from Adelaide.
The director was waiting for us at the hospital. He showed me the room he had for me. The room had a bed and a dressing table. The mattress on the bed was bare with signs of long use. The windows had no curtains. I walked down a lengthy corridor to see the toilet and bathroom I would share. The bathroom had a bucket storing a little water. He then took me to the hospital kitchen and said I could prepare my meals here. I thanked him and asked if I could come back later?

Back in the vehicle, Adelaide said before I did that this was not suitable for me for a stay of three months. Ethel reminded Adelaide that there was just one option left – the Serowe Hotel. I said I did not need to see it, because that is where I would stay. Adelaide did not object too vociferously. I checked in at the Serowe Hotel and was allowed to choose my room – one of the only two that the hotel had. I chose the one with a window. Adelaide had never been here before.

Starting the field trial

We now planned with Ethel how we were to start the WHO field trial. The Regional Medical Officer had made it clear that we could have 15 Family Welfare Educators or FWEs – that is what the Primary Health Care workers were called – to participate in the trial. We could have these 15 for a maximum of three days, not more. Their routine work could not be interrupted. As soon as Ethel heard this from the RMO she sent off a message on the human telegraph line that the selected 15 should be at the community hall by 9 a.m. the next day. And they all were.
In the community hall the next morning Adelaide welcomed them, explaining to them that they had been asked to come to learn how to carry out this important task for the World Health Organisation in Geneva. And then she left for Gaborone to get back to her other duties. She came back to Serowe a couple of times to see how I was getting on. She went with us to the field to learn about CBR (Community Based Rehabilitation) in Botswana.

Ethel and I worked with the FWEs to prepare them for the work they were to undertake. We had enough Manuals to give one to each of them. We introduced them to all the components of the Manuals, discussing how each could be used; we had them describe and discuss the different disabled people – children and adults – they had met in their villages, the problems they had, and look for relevant parts of the Manual which they could use to give them advice on what they may do.

We set them problems to solve, case studies to discuss, turning the Manual this way and that, inside and out. Our aim, given these three short days, was to make them as familiar as possible with the actual physical handling of the Manual while learning it. At the same time as she was teaching with me, Ethel was also learning about the Manual. It was she who supervised the use of it after I was gone.
All in all, the entire workshop was essentially participatory and action-oriented. There was no other way. Serowe in Botswana was just one example of rural health and development and prioritising delivery needs. This was the reality in most developing countries.

This was the reality which CBR will have to use as an entry point. An essential first experience.Before the three days came to an end we made a programme with the FWEs. Ethel and I would visit them in their own areas of work. We asked them to get together in groups of three for this purpose. We would visit each group once a week. Before our visit, they would select disabled people in their areas who we would visit together. We would go to the homes of these people together, to continue their learning and ours in the use of the Manual.

And this field teaching and learning is what we did for the next 11 weeks in Botswana. It was at this time that the words of the Chinese Philosopher Lao Tzu came home to me with conviction:
“Go to the people. Live with them. Learn from them. Love them. Start with what they know. Build with what they have. But with the best leaders (teachers), when the work is done, the task accomplished, the people will say ‘We have done this ourselves’ “.

This has been the philosophy underlying my own CBR teaching from those first days in Botswana to this day.



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Features

Sheer rise of Realpolitik making the world see the brink

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A combined US-Israel attack on Iran.(BBC)

The recent humanly costly torpedoing of an Iranian naval vessel in Sri Lanka’s Exclusive Economic Zone by a US submarine has raised a number of issues of great importance to international political discourse and law that call for elucidation. It is best that enlightened commentary is brought to bear in such discussions because at present misleading and uninformed speculation on questions arising from the incident are being aired by particularly jingoistic politicians of Sri Lanka’s South which could prove deleterious.

As matters stand, there seems to be no credible evidence that the Indian state was aware of the impending torpedoing of the Iranian vessel but these acerbic-tongued politicians of Sri Lanka’s South would have the local public believe that the tragedy was triggered with India’s connivance. Likewise, India is accused of ‘embroiling’ Sri Lanka in the incident on account of seemingly having prior knowledge of it and not warning Sri Lanka about the impending disaster.

It is plain that a process is once again afoot to raise anti-India hysteria in Sri Lanka. An obligation is cast on the Sri Lankan government to ensure that incendiary speculation of the above kind is defeated and India-Sri Lanka relations are prevented from being in any way harmed. Proactive measures are needed by the Sri Lankan government and well meaning quarters to ensure that public discourse in such matters have a factual and rational basis. ‘Knowledge gaps’ could prove hazardous.

Meanwhile, there could be no doubt that Sri Lanka’s sovereignty was violated by the US because the sinking of the Iranian vessel took place in Sri Lanka’s Exclusive Economic Zone. While there is no international decrying of the incident, and this is to be regretted, Sri Lanka’s helplessness and small player status would enable the US to ‘get away with it’.

Could anything be done by the international community to hold the US to account over the act of lawlessness in question? None is the answer at present. This is because in the current ‘Global Disorder’ major powers could commit the gravest international irregularities with impunity. As the threadbare cliché declares, ‘Might is Right’….. or so it seems.

Unfortunately, the UN could only merely verbally denounce any violations of International Law by the world’s foremost powers. It cannot use countervailing force against violators of the law, for example, on account of the divided nature of the UN Security Council, whose permanent members have shown incapability of seeing eye-to-eye on grave matters relating to International Law and order over the decades.

The foregoing considerations could force the conclusion on uncritical sections that Political Realism or Realpolitik has won out in the end. A basic premise of the school of thought known as Political Realism is that power or force wielded by states and international actors determine the shape, direction and substance of international relations. This school stands in marked contrast to political idealists who essentially proclaim that moral norms and values determine the nature of local and international politics.

While, British political scientist Thomas Hobbes, for instance, was a proponent of Political Realism, political idealism has its roots in the teachings of Socrates, Plato and latterly Friedrich Hegel of Germany, to name just few such notables.

On the face of it, therefore, there is no getting way from the conclusion that coercive force is the deciding factor in international politics. If this were not so, US President Donald Trump in collaboration with Israeli Rightist Premier Benjamin Natanyahu could not have wielded the ‘big stick’, so to speak, on Iran, killed its Supreme Head of State, terrorized the Iranian public and gone ‘scot-free’. That is, currently, the US’ impunity seems to be limitless.

Moreover, the evidence is that the Western bloc is reuniting in the face of Iran’s threats to stymie the flow of oil from West Asia to the rest of the world. The recent G7 summit witnessed a coming together of the foremost powers of the global North to ensure that the West does not suffer grave negative consequences from any future blocking of western oil supplies.

Meanwhile, Israel is having a ‘free run’ of the Middle East, so to speak, picking out perceived adversarial powers, such as Lebanon, and militarily neutralizing them; once again with impunity. On the other hand, Iran has been bringing under assault, with no questions asked, Gulf states that are seen as allying with the US and Israel. West Asia is facing a compounded crisis and International Law seems to be helplessly silent.

Wittingly or unwittingly, matters at the heart of International Law and peace are being obfuscated by some pro-Trump administration commentators meanwhile. For example, retired US Navy Captain Brent Sadler has cited Article 51 of the UN Charter, which provides for the right to self or collective self-defence of UN member states in the face of armed attacks, as justifying the US sinking of the Iranian vessel (See page 2 of The Island of March 10, 2026). But the Article makes it clear that such measures could be resorted to by UN members only ‘ if an armed attack occurs’ against them and under no other circumstances. But no such thing happened in the incident in question and the US acted under a sheer threat perception.

Clearly, the US has violated the Article through its action and has once again demonstrated its tendency to arbitrarily use military might. The general drift of Sadler’s thinking is that in the face of pressing national priorities, obligations of a state under International Law could be side-stepped. This is a sure recipe for international anarchy because in such a policy environment states could pursue their national interests, irrespective of their merits, disregarding in the process their obligations towards the international community.

Moreover, Article 51 repeatedly reiterates the authority of the UN Security Council and the obligation of those states that act in self-defence to report to the Council and be guided by it. Sadler, therefore, could be said to have cited the Article very selectively, whereas, right along member states’ commitments to the UNSC are stressed.

However, it is beyond doubt that international anarchy has strengthened its grip over the world. While the US set destabilizing precedents after the crumbling of the Cold War that paved the way for the current anarchic situation, Russia further aggravated these degenerative trends through its invasion of Ukraine. Stepping back from anarchy has thus emerged as the prime challenge for the world community.

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A Tribute to Professor H. L. Seneviratne – Part II

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A Living Legend of the Peradeniya Tradition:

(First part of this article appeared yesterday)

H.L. Seneviratne’s tenure at the University of Virginia was marked not only by his ethnographic rigour but also by his profound dedication to the preservation and study of South Asian film culture. Recognising that cinema is often the most vital expression of a society’s aspirations and anxieties, he played a central role in curating what is now one of the most significant Indian film collections in the United States. His approach to curation was never merely archival; it was informed by his anthropological work, treating films as primary texts for understanding the ideological shifts within the subcontinent

The collection he helped build at the UVA Library, particularly within the Clemons Library holdings, serves as a comprehensive survey of the Indian ‘Parallel Cinema’ movement and the works of legendary auteurs. This includes the filmographies of directors such as Satyajit Ray, whose nuanced portrayals of the Indian middle class and rural poverty provided a cinematic counterpart to H.L. Seneviratne’s own academic interests in social change. By prioritising the works of figures such as Mrinal Sen and Ritwik Ghatak, H.L. Seneviratne ensured that students and scholars had access to films that wrestled with the complex legacies of colonialism, partition, and the struggle for national identity.

These films represent the ‘Parallel Cinema’ movement of West Bengal rather than the commercial Hindi industry of Mumbai. H.L. Seneviratne’s focus initially cantered on those world-renowned Bengali masters; it eventually broadened to encompass the distinct cinematic languages of the South. These films refer to the specific masterpieces from the Malayalam and Tamil regions—such as the meditative realism of Adoor Gopalakrishnan or the stylistic innovations of Mani Ratnam—which are culturally and linguistically distinct from the Bengali works. Essentially, H.L. Seneviratne is moving from the specific (Bengal) to the panoramic, ensuring that the curatorial work of H.L. Seneviratne was not just a ‘Greatest Hits of Kolkata’ but a truly national representation of Indian artistry. These films were selected for their ability to articulate internal critiques of Indian society, often focusing on issues of caste, gender, and the impact of modernisation on traditional life. Through this collection, H.L. Seneviratne positioned cinema as a tool for exposing the social dynamics that often remain hidden in traditional historical records, much like the hidden political rituals he uncovered in his early research.

Beyond the films themselves, H.L. Seneviratne integrated these visual resources into his curriculum, fostering a generation of scholars who understood the power of the image in South Asian politics. He frequently used these screenings to illustrate the conflation of past and present, showing how modern cinema often reworks ancient myths to serve contemporary political agendas. His legacy at the University of Virginia therefore encompasses both a rigorous body of writing that deconstructed the work of the kings and a vivid archive of films that continues to document the work of culture in a rapidly changing world.

In his lectures on Sri Lankan cinema, H.L. Seneviratne has frequently championed Lester James Peries as the ‘father of authentic Sinhala cinema.’ He views Peries’s 1956 film Rekava (Line of Destiny) as a watershed moment that liberated the local industry from the formulaic influence of South Indian commercial films. For H.L. Seneviratne, Peries was not just a filmmaker but an ethnographer of the screen. He often points to Peries’s ability to capture the subtle rhythms of rural life and the decline of the feudal elite, most notably in his masterpiece Gamperaliya, as a visual parallel to his own research into the transformation of traditional authority. H.L. Seneviratne argues that Peries provided a realistic way of seeing for the nation, one that eschewed nationalist caricature in favour of complex human emotion.

However, H.L. Seneviratne’s praise for Peries is often tempered by a critique of the broader visual nationalism that followed. He has expressed concern that later filmmakers sometimes misappropriated Peries’s indigenous style to promote a narrow, majoritarian view of history. In his view, while Peries opened the door to an authentic Sri Lankan identity, the state and subsequent commercial interests often used that same door to usher in a simplified, heroic past. This critique aligns with his broader academic stance against the rationalization of culture for political ends.

Constitutional Governance:

H.L. Seneviratne’s support for independent commissions is best described as a hopeful pragmatism; he views them as essential, albeit fragile, instruments for diffusing the hyper-concentration of executive power. Writing to Colombo Page and several news tabloids, H.L. Seneviratne addresses the democratic deficit by creating a structural buffer between partisan interests and public institutions, theoretically ensuring that the judiciary, police, and civil service operate on merit rather than political whim. However, he remains deeply aware that these commissions are not a panacea and are indeed inherently susceptible to the ‘politics of patronage.’

In cultures where power is traditionally exercised through personal loyalties, there is a constant risk that these bodies will be subverted through the appointment of hidden partisans or rendered toothless through administrative sabotage. Thus, while H.L. Seneviratne advocates for them as a means to transition a state from a patron-client culture to a rule-of-law framework, his anthropological lens suggests that the success of such commissions depends less on the law itself and more on the sustained pressure of civil society to keep them honest.

Whether discussing the nuances of a film’s narrative or the complexities of a constitutional clause, H.L. Seneviratne’s approach remains consistent in its focus on the spirit behind the institution. He maintains that a healthy democracy requires more than just the right laws or the right symbols; it requires a citizenry and a clergy capable of critical self-reflection. His career at the University of Virginia and his continued engagement with Sri Lankan public life stand as a testament to the idea that the intellectual’s work is never truly finished until the work of the people is fully realized.

In the context of H.L. Seneviratne’s philosophy, as discussed in his work of the kings ‘the work of the people’ is far more than a populist catchphrase; it represents the practical application of critical consciousness within a democracy. Rather than defining ‘work’ as labour or voting, H.L. Seneviratne views it as the transition of a population from passive subjects to an active, self-reflective citizenry. This means that a democracy is only truly ‘realized’ when the public possesses the intellectual autonomy to look beyond the ‘right laws’ or ‘right symbols’ and instead engage with the underlying spirit of their institutions. For H.L. Seneviratne, this work is specifically tied to the ability of the people—including influential groups like the clergy—to perform rigorous self-critique, ensuring that they are not merely following tradition or authority, but are actively sustaining the ethical health of the nation. It is a perpetual process of civic education and moral vigilance that moves a society from the ‘paper’ democracy of a constitution to a lived reality of accountability and insight.

This decline of the ‘intellectual monk’ had a catastrophic impact on the political landscape, particularly surrounding the watershed moment of 1956 and the ‘Sinhala Only’ movement. H.L. Seneviratne posits that when the Sangha exchanged their role as impartial moral advisors for that of political kingmakers, they became the primary obstacle to ethnic reconciliation. He suggests that politicians, fearing the immense grassroots influence of the monks, entered a state of monachophobia, where they felt unable to propose pluralistic or fair policies toward minority communities for fear of being branded as traitors to the faith. In H.L. Seneviratne’s framework, the monk’s transition from a social servant to a political vanguard effectively trapped the state in a cycle of majoritarian nationalism from which it has yet to escape.

H.L. Seneviratne’s work serves as a multifaceted critique of the modern Sri Lankan state and its cultural foundations. Whether he is dissecting what he sees as the betrayal of the monastic ideal or celebrating the humanistic vision of an Indian filmmaker, his goal remains the same: to champion a world where intellect and compassion are not sacrificed on the altar of political power. His legacy at the University of Virginia and his continued voice in Sri Lankan discourse remind us that the work of the intellectual is to provide a moral compass even, indeed especially, when the nation has lost its way.

(Concluded)

by Professor
M. W. Amarasiri de Silva

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Features

Musical journey of Nilanka Anjalee …

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Nilanka Anjalee Wickramasinghe is, in fact, a reputed doctor, but the plus factor is that she has an awesome singing voice, as well., which stands as a reminder that music and intellect can harmonise beautifully.

Well, our spotlight today is on ‘Nilanka – the Singer,’ and not ‘Nilanka – the Singing Doctor!’

Nilanka’s journey in music began at an early age, nurtured by an ear finely tuned to nuance and a heart that sought expression beyond words.

Under the tutelage of her singing teachers, she went on to achieve the A.T.C.L. Diploma in Piano and the L.T.C.L. Diploma in Vocals from Trinity College, London – qualifications recognised internationally for their rigor and artistry.

These achievements formally certified her as a teacher and performer in both opera singing and piano music, while her Performer’s Certificate for singing attested to her flair on stage.

Nilanka believes that music must move the listener, not merely impress them, emphasising that “technique is a language, but emotion is the message,” and that conviction shines through in her stage presence –serene yet powerful, intimate yet commanding.

Her YouTube channel, Facebook and Instagram pages, “Nilanka Anjalee,” have become a window into her evolving artistry.

Here, audiences find not only her elegant renditions of local and international pieces but also her original songs, which reveal a reflective and modern voice with a timeless sensibility.

Each performance – whether a haunting ballad or a jubilant interpretation of a traditional hymn – carries her signature blend of technical finesse and emotional depth.

Beyond the concert hall and digital stage, Nilanka’s music is driven by a deep commitment to meaning.

Her work often reflects her belief in empathy, inner balance, and the beauty of simplicity—values that give her performances their quiet strength.

She says she continues to collaborate with musicians across genres, composing and performing pieces that reflect both her classical discipline and her contemporary outlook.

Widely acclaimed for her ability to adapt to both formal and modern stages, with equal grace, and with her growing repertoire, Nilanka has become a sought-after soloist at concerts and special events,

For those who seek to experience her artistry, firsthand, Nilanka Anjalee says she can be contacted for live performances and collaborations through her official channels.

Her voice – refined, resonant, and resolutely her own – reminds us that music, at its core, is not about perfection, but truth.

Dr. Nilanka Anjalee Wickramasinghe also indicated that her newest single, an original, titled ‘Koloba Ahasa Yata,’ with lyrics, melody and singing all done by her, is scheduled for release this month (March)

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