Features
Visit to Brussels and quiet diplomacy with the Soviets in Colombo
Person identified as KGB agent at embassy sent off sans publicity
(Excerpted from the autobiography of MDD Pieris, Secretary to the Prime Minister)
At the end of the (London security) course, High Commissioner Tilak Gooneratne, who had an appointment in the European Common Market in Brussels with Sir Christopher Soames, External Commissioner for the European Common Market, took me along with him. He knew Sir Christopher, who was the son-in-law of Sir Winston Churchill, quite well and was keen that I should meet him, and also see at first hand certain common market arrangements.
He telephoned the Prime Minister and obtained her permission for me to accompany him to Brussels. Generously, Tilak wanted me to have a larger experience, and therefore decided not to fly. Instead, we drove to Dover, took the channel ferry to Calais, and then drove on to Brussels. We had an interesting meeting with Sir Christopher and drove to Bonn for a late lunch, with C. Gunasingham who was acting for the Ambassador at the time. The next day, we took the ferry, this time from Ostend, and came back to Britain.
One has to be deeply grateful to people like Tilak, who always took such an interest, a great deal of trouble, and incurred personal expense in broadening the horizons of those who had to deal with him. His wife Pam, a cultured and refined lady, matched his generosity, by taking us to the theatre to see some excellent plays, whenever, we had a free evening. They were also willing hosts who opened their residence and their dining table and were genuinely happy when you came.
When I got back, I briefed the Prime Minister on the intelligence I had received, when in London. She got down WT Jayasinghe and instructed him to call the Soviet Ambassador to the Ministry and merely say that we would like the person concerned to leave the country within 10 days. He was further instructed to tell the Ambassador, if he asked for reasons, that we are in possession of information, that would make his further stay in Sri Lanka detrimental to the very good relations we enjoyed with the Soviet Union, and that it was in the interests of both countries that this whole thing was done quietly and without publicity. In the end, things were done very quietly indeed. The Soviet Ambassador, when confronted with our request, had merely stated that if this is what the Prime Minister wanted, he would comply. No reasons were asked.
Visit to the USSR
A few months after this episode, the Prime Minister had to visit the USSR. This visit was in the pipeline for sometime, and dates were finally fixed for November 1974. The Soviets sent a special four engine Turbo-prop plane to take the Prime Minister and party to the USSR and bring them back. These arrangements made it possible for a larger delegation than usual to accompany her.
The principal members of the delegation were myself, Tissa Wijeyeratne; Dr. Mackie Ratwatte; Elmo Seneviratne, Director Economic Affairs of the Foreign Ministry; Mr. A.B. Elkaduwe, Additional Secretary, Ministry of Industries and Scientific Affairs; Mr. Balasubramaniam, Director (West) of the Foreign Ministry; Mr. Austin Fernando, Director External Resources; and Mr. D.P. Amerasinghe, Additional Private Secretary to the Prime Minister. There was also an aide, Mr. M.M. Weerasena of the Prime Minister’s office and a representative of the Sri Lanka Broadcasting Corporation.
The Prime Minister’s son Anura also accompanied us and Mr. Nishanov, the Ambassador for the USSR in Sri Lanka came on the flight. We took off on November 10, 1974 and flew direct to Tashkent, a journey of some seven hours 40 minutes. We were put up for the night in a state guest house. Our bedrooms were large and the furniture heavy. My bed was very large and with an iron frame. The mattress was hard and seemed designed more to produce straight and hard backs than afford comfort.
After dinner, when I went to sleep, I found the room grossly overheated and quite uncomfortable. On investigation I found that what we had was central heating with no possibility of regulation from the room. The guest house was a sprawling complex with long corridors, and when I opened the door of my room, to see whether I could bring this problem to someone’s attention, all was silent and there was no one in sight. There was no choice but to bear the discomfort for a few hours.
It was, however, much worse than I had anticipated. Sleep was out of the question. I was bathed in sweat. The windows appeared to be sealed. I tossed and turned with abandon, and sometime during the night, there was a loud crack and the bed broke and one side slumped and sagged at an angle! The satisfaction of breaking such a massive looking bed, somewhat compensated for the lack of sleep. There was nothing left to do now, but to collect some of the bedclothes and settle down on the floor.
The next morning, at breakfast I proudly announced my feat of the previous night to a gathering which included the Prime Minister and the Soviet Ambassador. Everyone was quite amused except the Ambassador, who looked embarrassed. It appeared that all had suffered from the problem of over heated rooms during the night. Only I had the distinction of breaking the bed as a response.
After breakfast, we re-joined the flight and set out for Moscow. It took five and a half hours. As we got down in Moscow, it was bitterly cold. The wind cut through, what now appeared to be our inadequate protection, except for the Prime Minister and one or two others, who seemed to be more prepared. We were met at the airport by Prime Minister Kosygin, Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko and other Soviet dignitaries, and after the playing of National Anthems, were witnesses to a march past of smart goose-stepping troops.
We were housed in a large dacha, set in extensive wooded grounds. The rooms were once again large, but to our relief the heating system was much better. If at all, it was a little more on the cold side. Our hosts were very thoughtful and most of us were presented with heavy overcoats which were a great help. It was doubtful whether such heavy coats could have been obtained in many countries and certainly not in Sri Lanka. Wearing one of them and walking about provided protection and exercise at the same time.
From the time we settled in, there was work to do. We had a draft communique almost ready, to which we had to add a few finishing touches, and we knew the Soviets had one too. They fixed the unusual hour of 10.15 in the night, to start joint discussions on the communiques. Tissa, with his Communist Party training explained that this was not unusual at all. He said that these were all tactics to wear down the other side and get what they want. Once we knew this, it was possible to steel one’s mind and to evoke the mental strength and stamina that were necessary.
We met in the Soviet Foreign Ministry at 10 p.m. In addition to myself, our side included our Ambassador Dr. Soma Weeratunge; Tissa Wijeratne; Dr. Wiswa Warnapala, from the University of Peradeniya, who was on a few years attachment to our Embassy in a senior diplomatic position; and Mr. Balasubramaniam of the Foreign Ministry. First, there was the haggling about which draft to be used. Eventually, we agreed to use the Soviet draft as a basis, subject to discussions on the wording.
Here, it was our intention to bring in the wording from our draft, or wording as approximate as possible, into the main communique. This was not easy. The Soviets were attempting to get us to subscribe to at the time, their relatively new concept of Asian Collective Security, which was going to be under their auspices. We were on the other hand a country active in the Non-aligned Movement, and with an influence in the movement which was disproportionate to our size or population. We also had very good relations with the West. We were not willing to come under the tutelage of any power bloc.
The discussion dragged on till 1.15 a.m. and ended inconclusively on several important points. It was decided to meet again later in the day, the new day already having dawned.
Later, we had formal talks in the Kremlin with Prime Minister Kosygin and his team, which included Foreign Minister Gromyko and other important Ministers. This meeting followed a lunch hosted by the Soviet Prime Minister. During the official discussions, Mrs. Bandaranaike bargained closely on many issues pertaining to Soviet aid to Sri Lanka. She wanted to get the best terms and the best deal possible. At one stage, Mr. Kosygin banteringly wagged a finger and said, “you are a hard lady.” Mrs. Bandaranaike replied that if she was hard, it was on behalf of her country.
The discussions were cordial, and we were able to obtain assistance for the public industrial sector, as well as a commitment to preliminary studies relating to the Samanalawewa Hydro Electric Scheme. The meeting ended during the late afternoon. During the early evening the Soviet Prime Minister was taking the Prime Minister to the Bolshoi Ballet. The Ambassador, Mackie and I were also invited. But there was no question of my going. We had work to do on the communique with the Soviet side.
I told Tissa to lead the discussions. With his old Communist background, during which he had also had a stint of training in the Soviet Union, he was quite proficient on their negotiating techniques and general strategy. This also gave me the time to think, whilst Tissa talked. The meeting kept dragging on. The Soviets were defending every word of their draft as if their life depended on it. Perhaps, their careers did. We for our part were not prepared to alter our foreign policy to suit anybody. We had discussed matters with the Prime Minister after our first meeting, and we knew we had her full backing on the Issues we considered important for us.
Once the other side realized that we were unlikely to yield on some matters, and that we were in no hurry to reach agreement, although according to the programme we had to leave for Tibilisi-Georgia the following afternoon, after a luncheon signing of some agreements by the Prime Ministers, and the release of the communique, they became more accommodating. Some progress was made. There were still a very few important matters about which we were deadlocked.
At this stage, the Russians called to their aid Deputy Foreign Minister, Firyubin. He strode into the room complaining that he had been disturbed at the ballet and that this was the first time in his career that he had to be dragged out from the ballet for a matter such as this. Tissa Wijeratne, sweetly replied “Excellency, you can see the ballet tomorrow. But we are leaving tomorrow and we will never be able to see it.” The Deputy Foreign Minister grunted testily.
“What is all this?” he inquired. We politely told him. He realized that we meant business, and that we were not ready to agree on a communique at any cost. Things proceeded better thereafter, and we were eventually able to agree. By this time, it was very late, and the Prime Minister who had returned from the ballet had been wondering what had happened to us. She sent a message that she was waiting for us to return in order to have dinner. This also would have helped to expedite matters with the Russians.
When we got back finally at about 10 p.m.. the Prime Minister was pleased that we had successfully defended our positions. The discussions had gone on for some six hours, and this with very little translations required, because most of the discussions were conducted in English. We worked as a team and enjoyed working together. The Prime Minister fostered this team spirit. She was, though the leader and at a much higher level, very much a part of the team. Her refusal to have dinner without us underlined this, and proved to be a great boost to us.
There was an interesting sequel to our prolonged discussions. That night I was fast asleep, quite fatigued, well tucked under the blankets against the cold, when as if in a dream I heard the distant sound of knocking on what appeared to be my door. Soon, the knocking became quite loud, and I realized that it was indeed my door someone was knocking on. Put up suddenly from a deep and tired sleep, I took some time to get out of bed and reach the door. I was half shivering having suddenly emerged from under cosy blankets. The knocking continued.
When I finally opened the door there was a young man from the Soviet Foreign Ministry sporting a broad grin and with a sheaf of papers in his hand, which he thrust into mine saying that this was the final version of the communique and would I check it, because they had to finalize everything by 7 a.m. and have it ready for signing at lunch. By this time, I was wide awake, and suspected that this was a piece of harassment aimed to teach us a lesson for being stubborn in the negotiations.
I now wide awake therefore said, “Come in. Come in, let’s order some coffee and go through this together.” There was near panic in his face. His job seemed to be to disturb my sleep and get away. He said “No”, he had to report back to the Foreign Ministry. I said, I will telephone the Ministry and say, that in view of the obvious urgency that I want to go through the communique right now and hand it over to their official. But he mumbled some excuses, and virtually fled.
Now that I was up and alert, I thought I would go through the draft straightaway. The time was 4.30 a.m, and that’s what I did. There were just a couple of matters I wanted to clarify with the Ambassador, Tissa and Professor Wiswa Warnapala in the morning. But substantially, almost everything was in order. The next morning Tissa, said that my nights disturbance was typical Soviet tactics, and that he was not at all surprised. If they really were tactics, I fail to understand what they sought to gain by them. Certainly, it could not have been goodwill.
This whole episode, including the long drawn out negotiations on the joint communique appeared to me to illustrate the rigidity and the almost surreal nature of the system. Much time and effort were spent on relatively minor issues and any kind of compromise was hard to achieve. One felt that preoccupation with sheer process had taken a life of its own, and that the end result, which should have included the creation of respect and goodwill was lost to them.
Most of the matters addressed in the communique should not have been those which should have kept a Foreign Ministry’s chandeliers burning all night. One really wondered how a great country like the Soviet Union could function in this way. In fact, the contrast between the Soviet Union and the West was brought out subsequently when the Prime Minister visited West Germany on a State visit. I did not go on this visit. But colleagues who did told me that the two sides exchanged their drafts of the communique at the airport on arrival, and subsequently at an informal twenty minute discussion, everything was finalized! These experiences were clearly illustrative of two very different systems, one, process oriented, cumbrous and bureaucratic, and the other pragmatic, practical and expeditious.
Features
Revolt in the Temple: Poverty as Structural Control
The underlying issue in Anuradhapura is a struggle between a few families who, for years, have waged a quiet cold war over control of the Udamaluwa. Similar situations exist in Mihintale as well. These places, among others, are treated as treasures of Buddhism but, in practice, function as tightly controlled economic centres. The same pattern repeats in Kandy around the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic and in Kataragama at the shrine of God Kataragama. Variations of it exist across religious spaces of Islam, Catholicism, and Hinduism too, where institutional authority becomes indistinguishable from localised power networks. What is presented as sacred order often operates as inherited control.
It is indeed devastating to see situations where parents have no alternative but to expose their children to predators in robes for survival. This has nothing to do with religion itself, but with human pathology in the context of survival. These are the questions that demand answers, not superficial responses that treat symptoms while ignoring the conditions that produce them. What is more shocking and disturbing is not the tragedy itself, but the reactions to it. Social media has overwhelmed us, not towards understanding, but towards a fragmented cognitive state with no exit route.
A friend of mine in Nairobi used to keep all his electronic devices at home and go into the forest once a month, spending days there before returning. He called it “detoxification”, but in reality it was an escape from a system that no longer allows uninterrupted thought. Daily life is now saturated with unnecessary content, and attention itself has become a commodity extracted, processed, and sold back to us. This is where we have become unable to understand what really drives certain tragedies we endlessly react to, while remaining blind to the systems that quietly manufacture them.
Multi-dimensional poverty
Poverty is structural, poverty is political, and poverty is functional; it is a tool and a manoeuvring force of power. The question is no longer whether poverty exists, but who benefits from its persistence, and who is forced to survive within it. From education to medicine to basic food supply chains, countries like Sri Lanka are not simply mismanaged; they are structurally captured by a small number of actors who remain stable regardless of who is formally in power. Small-scale enterprises and NGO circuits that circulate foreign funding to “solve structural issues” often operate as hollow administrative performances, producing reports rather than transformation.
Poverty is not merely the absence of money. It is the absence of bandwidth, absence of protection, absence of time, and absence of cognitive stability. As Sendhil Mullainathan and Eldar Shafir state, “Scarcity captures the mind. Just as the starving subjects had food on their mind, when we experience scarcity of any kind, we become absorbed by it.” This is a description of how human cognition is structurally reorganized under constraint. Scarcity does not sit outside the person; it occupies them.
They also state, “Scarcity leads us to borrow and pushes us deeper into scarcity.” That is the mechanism that must be confronted without euphemism. Poverty is not only deprivation; it is a self-reinforcing trap in which survival decisions generate the next layer of crisis. Once a society crosses a certain threshold of scarcity, it stops producing long-term reasoning as a default condition. It produces short-term survival logic, often mistaken by outsiders for irrationality.
It is precisely here that public discourse becomes intellectually dishonest. Everything is translated into moral language because moral language is easier than structural analysis. But morality without structure becomes theatre. It produces outrage, not understanding, and repetition, not reform.
It is indeed brutal when an individual wearing religious insignia—whether robe, symbol, or institutional identity—is accused of acts that fundamentally contradict the moral authority attached to that position. It is equally brutal when institutions that depend entirely on trust begin to function as shields rather than safeguards. But the deeper question is not shock. The deeper question is what kind of social condition produces families who see placement within such institutions not only as devotion, but as a survival strategy under constraint.
Ethical decision-making
That is where the argument collapses into its most uncomfortable form. Poverty does not produce ethical decision-making environments. It produces constrained optimization under pressure. When food insecurity, debt, and social instability converge, institutional spaces that appear stable become transactional destinations for survival rather than moral choices. To interpret this as purely cultural failure is to deliberately ignore the structural compression of options.
Mullainathan and Shafir describe this clearly: “Instead of saying that scarcity ‘focuses,’ we could just as easily say that scarcity causes us to tunnel: to focus single-mindedly on managing the scarcity at hand.” That tunnelling effect is not abstract. It is visible wherever long-term planning collapses under immediate pressure. Systems then misread this as irresponsibility, when it is in fact cognitive overload produced by structure.
What is rarely acknowledged is how deeply this extends into governance itself. Institutions increasingly operate as if they are managing rational, unconstrained individuals. In reality, they are interacting with populations whose cognitive bandwidth is already structurally taxed. The result is policy failure interpreted as public non-compliance, enforcement interpreted as moral correction, and reform interpreted as communication failure rather than design failure.
Social media has intensified this distortion. It does not merely spread information; it destroys sequencing. Structural problems require temporal depth. Social media removes that depth and replaces it with instantaneous judgment. Every event becomes a surface object, detached from causality. The outcome is a society permanently reacting and never diagnosing.
Poverty, in this environment, becomes invisible in its real form. It is not seen as a continuous structural condition but as episodic failure. A scandal appears, is consumed, and disappears. Another replaces it. Nothing accumulates into understanding because attention itself is exhausted before synthesis can occur.
Modern Condition
The modern condition reflects a reversal of earlier social organization, where human relationships are embedded within abstract systems of finance, law, and administration that often fail to recognize the lived constraints of those they govern. In this disembedded state, institutions increasingly misinterpret human behaviour as their capacity for structural understanding weakens. At the same time, attempts to resolve systemic failures through expanding administrative complexity produce diminishing returns: more regulation, oversight, and reporting generate less coherence. Over time, institutions shift from functional effectiveness to symbolic performance, maintaining the appearance of control rather than achieving it.
This is why public outrage repeatedly fails to translate into structural change. Outrage is not a tool of reconstruction. It is a signal of system fatigue. It circulates, intensifies, and dissipates without altering the underlying architecture. Meanwhile, the conditions that produce repetition remain intact.
The most persistent illusion is that these are separate problems: poverty here, institutional misuse there, media distortion elsewhere. They are not separate. They are expressions of a single condition in which scarcity, complexity, symbolic authority, and fragmented enforcement interact without coordination. The system does not fail in one place; it fails in the gaps between these layers.
Symbolic systems
What makes this condition more severe is that symbolic systems continue to operate at full strength even when structural systems degrade. Religious identity remains powerful. Political rhetoric remains strong. Cultural symbolism remains intact. But enforcement capacity, institutional coherence, and social trust degrade beneath them. That gap is where instability grows. Until that gap is addressed at the level of structure rather than sentiment, repetition remains inevitable. New scandals will emerge, new interpretations will circulate, and new cycles of outrage will follow. Nothing resolves because nothing is being reconstructed beneath the surface of reaction.
This is no longer repairable through adjustment or rhetoric. It is a form of decay that persists until it exhausts itself, because the mechanisms meant to correct it are now part of the same failure. It continues until rupture, not reform. At that point, instability ceases to be episodic and becomes structural. Pressure will accumulate into breakdown, and what follows will not be managed transition but forced reversal. The responsibility lies with those who govern these institutions to prevent that trajectory, not through language, but through change. The drama is ending; farce is over; what we are witnessing is tragedy unfolding with unprecedented consequences.
by Nilantha Ilangamuwa
Features
Are threats to Buddha Sasana external or from within?
As Sri Lanka celebrates the birth, Enlightenment and the Parinibbana of the Buddha, almost a month after the rest of the Buddhist-world did so, there is widespread discussion about threats to Buddha Sasana provoked by some recent incidents. Regarding the views expressed about postponing Vesak celebrations in my article ‘May Day and postponement Vesak 2026’ (The Island, 25 May), my very good friend Dr Upali Abeysiri has sent me the following comments: “The Mahanayakas have a good reason to postpone Vesak. The dawning of the full moon has to be on the same constellation (nekatha) as when the Buddha was born and attained enlightenment. Although Adhi Poya is reckoned as the second full moon arising in the same calendar month, this is supposed to be an odd exception.” Though it would have been ideal if a consensus could have been reached prior to the split of celebrations, perhaps, it does not matter very much as celebrations occur on a symbolic rather than an actual date, there being no historical or archaeological evidence confirming exact dates.
Whilst there are no direct threats to Buddha Dhamma, as the expanding horizons of science continue to confirm the fundamentals of Buddha Dhamma, there is no doubt whatsoever that there are threats to Buddha Sasana. However, these threats become important as the Buddha Sasana performs the pivotal role in protecting and propagating the Dhamma and, hence, become an indirect threat to Dhamma itself. Therefore, it should be the concern of all Buddhists and it is in this spirit I am making some comments which some may interpret as disrespectful to the Maha Sangha. I can reassure that my intentions are entirely directed towards the preservation of the Buddha Dhamma and Sasana. Though the Buddha proclaimed that the Sasana consists of Bhikkhu, Bhikkhuni, Upasaka and Upasika, for all practical purposes Sasana had been led by Bhikkhus, often at the expense of others.
There is hardly any doubt that there are external forces at play in Sri Lanka and even some Buddhists seem to object to Sri Lanka being called a Buddhist country. Interestingly, no one seems to object to countries like the UK and the USA being called Christian counties. I
There is no registration or baptism in Buddhism and there are no rewards for Buddhists for conversions. As I pointed out in a previous article, ‘How does the Buddha differ’ (The Island, 1 May) unlike most other religions, Buddhism is not a ‘high-demand’ religion, nor ‘law-based’ religion and is not exclusivist. Perhaps, it is this liberalism, pacifism and gentleness, which are the real strengths, that are being exploited as weaknesses by others.
There will always be external threats and the Buddha too faced many during his lifetime. Before addressing those, is it not more important to address the threats within? One of the most important problems seems to be the breakdown of discipline. Bhikkhus are bound by Vinaya rules, laid down by the Buddha and some recent incidents highlight total deviations. Though there were many previous incidents like unsubstantiated claims of Arahanthood, Bhikkhus attacking each other on YouTube and Bhikkhus conducting YouTube channels, not for the propagation of the Dhamma but for the accumulation of rupees, attention was focused after the detection of 22 young monks carrying narcotic drugs.
Though many commentators were quick to condemn the Sangha on this account, we need to go deeper. Narcotic menace has become a huge problem in Sri Lanka and it looks as if the drug lords would resort to anything to achieve their objectives. Though it looks as if some gullible young monks had been duped by drug lords, we need to question why it was possible. Is it due to the lack of supervision of these novices by their seniors that allowed them to accept a request in a WhatsApp group? Should there be checks and balances on foreign travel by Bhikkhus?
What shocked Buddhists was what followed next; the arrest of the Nayaka of Atamasthana for allegedly having sex with a minor. Anuradhapura was our first capital and Sri Maha Bodhi is the longest surviving authenticated tree in the world. Ruwanweliseya and Jetawanaramaya were among the ten tallest man-made structures in the ancient world, Jetawanaramaya still holding the Guiness record for the largest stupa in the world. Cyberspace is full of theories. Whilst some have condemned the Nayaka Thero even before the conclusion of inquiries whilst others claim that this was a coup by another Nayaka Thera in an attempt of succession.
I was intrigued, reading in a Sri Lankan newspaper about the 80th birthday celebrations of a Nayaka priest, who was convicted in London in 2012 of historical child sex abuse and sentenced to seven years in prison. I remember the case very well as he was the head of the Vihara, we had our first contact on relocating to the UK. I also remember his devotees, who believed that he was wrongly accused, collecting over £50,000 for an appeal. In spite of being represented by one of the top Barristers in the UK, the conviction was upheld but the jail-term was reduced by a year. His name is still on the sex-offenders register in the UK and he is permanently prevented from association with children. One can argue that as he has served the sentence and not reoffended, this should not be held against him but what baffled me is that he is still being referred to as the Chief Sangha Nayaka. Should a person on the sex-offenders register be the Chief Sangha Nayaka?
It is high time we put our own house in order before fighting the external enemies. It is reported that the former president CBK has written to the Mahanayakas requesting urgent reform and we should be obliged to her for taking the lead.
There are many aspects that need urgent reform, the first being removal of caste barriers practiced by some Nikayas, which is the greatest insult to the Buddha who promoted equality. The second is the active encouragement of Bhikkhuni Sasana which has not happened in spite of the landmark ruling by the supreme court. The third is the establishment of proper disciplinary processes under a single Adhikarana Sangha Nayaka with powers and support than allowing the government to take over the control of even non-criminal Vinaya matters.
There are many other issues that need settlement like the controversy of the land of Buddha’s birth which seems to linger on. An expert committee should hear all evidence and settle this issue once and for all.
As I have pointed out on many occasions in these columns, it is high time a Dhamma Sangayana was held, as the last one was 70 years ago. Ideally, it should be different with active participation of lay experts as well. It is the duty of us Buddhists to ensure that the words of wisdom of the Buddha continue to enlighten generations to come.
By Dr Upul Wijayawardhana
Features
Vijaya Kumar: Academic, Activist & Genial Fellow-Traveller
The University of Ceylon, Peradeniya, was in our time, a less-crowded residential university, where everybody knew everybody else or at least knew of everybody else.
I knew of Emeritus Professor Vijaya Kumar of the Department of Chemistry at Peradeniya, or Kumar, as we referred to him fondly, before I got to know him. His dear wife Savitri, also a member of the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry, was nicknamed Kumee, by some of their students (of which vintage is unknown to me) and the duo were thereafter referred to affectionately as Kumar and Kumee.
The Faculty of Science became a regular haunt of mine as I would go there in the company of my batchmates to attend lectures on Basic Mathematics given by Professor Maheswaran, as it was a requirement for our General Arts Qualifying Examinations. I would also go there to listen to some excellent talks under a programme that was held in the auditorium of the Science Faculty referred to as “Popular Science Gossip”. The “gossip” at these talks were not confined solely to science but were broad enough to include Literature, History and other branches of knowledge as well. I would often spot Kumar in the audience at these talks or bump into him in the corridors of the Science Faculty. But I got to know him personally only after he became the Warden of Arunachalam, my hall of residence, during my undergraduate years initially, and later, as a member of the academic staff of the Department of English.
Our Science Faculty undergraduate contemporaries, especially those at Arunachalam Hall and its immediate neighbour, Jayatilaka Hall, both within a stone’s throw away from the Science Faculty, shared many an anecdote about Kumar and their other lecturers. One of these anecdotes, had to do with a spectacular (motor car) driving feat of Kumar’s. Legend has it that he drove from his university bungalow-home to the Faculty of Science deploying only the reverse gear of his car! Kumar, on hearing of this, had told certain of his student friends, including some who became his colleagues later on, that this story is one of the biggest yarns he had heard in his life!
Some of his one-time younger colleagues, now in retirement like Kumar, tell me that Kumar exuded warmth and friendliness in all of his professional and administrative interactions with others in the wider university community. But there was no warmth or mercy for those who indulged in the unsavoury pastime of student ‘ragging’. He was a very strong proponent of the need to ensure to all freshers an environment free of the menace of ‘ragging’. He remained ever-vigilant during the ‘ragging’ season. There are stories of his chasing ‘raggers’ and catching them. Professor Maheswaran, who later became an intimate friend and remains so after more than half a century, was another who was fiercely opposed to ‘ragging’. I was a personal witness to Mahes chasing a ‘ragger’ up and down the stairs of the main library to nab him. Yet another of his students has noted that Kumar’s office room in the Faculty was a total mess at all times. It had tables, piled so high with books and documents that one could not easily spot Kumar at his desk. He, however, had the knack of pulling out from amidst the clutter, any document that he needed at any given time. If anybody were to volunteer to help tidy his desk, Kumar would respond firmly with “Don’t you touch my desk!”.
Kumar, like several of his colleagues in the other faculties as well, had his own eccentricities. According to information received from reliable sources, Kumar who taught Organic Chemistry used to carry his lecture notes in his shirt or trouser pocket with ‘the entire lecture condensed in point form on a half-sheet or half of a half-sheet of paper’. The way he rummaged through his sling bag filled to the brim with stuff to find an item that he needed was another ritual that amused onlookers.
Kumar, interestingly enough is a Royal-cum-Thomian product, in that he had his primary education at S.Thomas’ Prep School, Kollupitiya and the entirety of his secondary education at Royal College, which he entered in 1953. In a note written by Kumar himself, he notes that despite having had excellent teachers at Royal, his was not a notable school career. He goes on to say that “the only achievement I could boast of was my being the joint-winner of the school General Knowledge Prize”. However, he had been active in a Scout Group outside of school (1st Port of Colombo, Sea Scouts) where he “was Queen’s Scout, Patrol leader, and later, Assistant Scout Master”.
Kumar entered the Faculty of Science of the University of Ceylon in 1961 and secured from it an honours degree in Chemistry in 1965. He joined the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry in the Faculty of Science, University of Ceylon, Peradeniya in 1965 and left the following year for Magdalen College at Oxford University, from which institution he obtained his doctorate in Chemistry. His entire teaching career was at Peradeniya, where in the period 2003-2006 he served as the Dean of the Faculty of Science, a position that his late father-in-law had held a few decades earlier.
Among the other highlights of his career are: Chairman of the Industrial Technology Institute (formerly the Ceylon Institute of Scientific and Industrial Research, CISIR); Member (representing Sri Lanka) of the Geneva-based UN Commission on Science and Technology from 1999 to 2007 and its President from 2001-2003; President of the Sri Lanka Estate Workers Union from 1989 onwards; Member of the Politburo of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party from 1988 to 2014 and currently, a member of the Executive Committee of the National People’s Power (NPP).
Vijaya and Savitri Kumar are parents of daughters Shamala and Ramya, who are following in the footsteps of their parents: with the former teaching in the Department of Agricultural Economics in the Faculty of Agriculture, University of Peradeniya and the latter, in the Department of Community Medicine at the University of Jaffna.
(I wish to thank the following who assisted me in the writing of this brief essay: Mr. Bandula Warnakulasuriya, Emeritus Professor Ratnayake Bandara, Professor Mahinda Wickramaratne, Professor Swarna Wimalasiri and Mr. Manik de Silva).
*Editor’s note: Prof. Vijaya Kumar, a member of the NPP’s National Executive Committee and is still active in politics turns 84 today. This article by Tissa Jayatilaka, former Executive Director of the United States – Sri Lanka Fulbright Commission for Mutual Academic Exchange, was written for an upcoming collection of essays on Kumar’s life by his friends.
(Colombo Telegraph)
By Tissa Jayatilaka
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