Opinion

Wayward journey of middle class: Some Reflections

Published

2 years ago

2023/10/5

Sahan Weerasooriya

Dr. Gunadasa Amarasekera

by Gunadasa Amarasekera

(A talk given by Gunadasa Amarasekera at the Royal Asiatic Society)

When Dr. Punsara Amarasinghe requested me to speak on my long novel in nine volumes I was rather reluctant, not because of anything else but my physical condition. Nearing my 96th year, I have lost almost all my faculties. I am almost deaf and unable to join in a conversation, leave aside a discussion. My eyesight is extremely poor. I suffer from memory loss. I cannot speak off the cuff and have to put it down on paper.

Despite these infirmities, I thought I should accept his invitation for a number of reasons.

Firstly, I found out that Dr. Punsara Amarasinghe is an avid reader of mine. He has not only read all these nine volumes but almost all my other works. (Now, that is a compliment no writer can ignore). How can I let him down?

Secondly, this work which I launched nearly thirty- five years ago, having had a number of reprints has hardly drawn the attention I expected from the so- called critics and intellectuals. Leaving aside the literary merits of this work, the political, the socio- economic insights contained in them should have stimulated/provoked those intellectuals to take them up even to debunk them. As such, Punsara’s initiative to draw attention to what I said was welcome.

Thirdly, looking back on what I wanted to convey I find what I said then, is more relevant now to us, going through a severe economic and political crisis, than at that time.

Fourthly my narrative advocating Buddhist civilisational values, I felt, would find a response in economists following Schumacher who pointed out the validity of Buddhist economics. The latest in this trend I came across is in Professor Clair Brown’s book ‘Buddhist Economics’. She had in fact come to our country some time ago to see how this centre of Theravada Buddhism is pursuing Buddhist economics. What she saw instead, were limousines of the latest model plying the streets of Colombo, and skyscrapers outdoing each other to reach the skies. She was thoroughly disillusioned. I hope this narrative by a Buddhist would vindicate us at least in a small way and also make her revise her opinion regarding us.

What prompted me in ’83 to embark on this voluminous narrative may be of interest, in understanding it. A brief account may be of help. It may also be relevant as some have branded this as a political tract presented in the garb of fiction.

What fallacy prompted those detractors to brand this narrative as a political tract? It is vital to examine it at some length as it has a bearing on the growth of the novel especially at this time.

Politics as such has been outlawed from our serious fiction. A good example is the novel Yuganthaya by Martin Wickramasinghe-our most social conscious novelist.Yuganthaya is based on a political theme- the struggle for a socialist state. But in it we do not come across the personalities who championed it, those stalwarts who dominated the scene are absent, their activities have been ignored. We do not see the prevalent politics of the time which engulfed the society. Instead of presenting that vital background the author resorts to an abstract, symbolic presentation.

As a result, Yuganthaya becomes a sort of intellectual exercise by a romantic individual. It is by no means- an end of a yugaya- an epoch.Yugantahya has had no impact, it is hardly referred to, today, when it is extremely socially relevant to the times.

Symbolism and abstract conceptualiaation, that the author had resorted to has a place in poetry; as a matter-of-fact symbolism is the essence of poetry, this is not so in fiction. Realism is the essence of fiction. It must be presented in all its complex manifestations, it cannot be selective, it must be representative, totally and completely. The heterocosm the novelist creates must accommodate all that complexity.

The negligence of this fact by our novelists has had two results; avoidance of politics in their serious works and the acceptance of this by the readers as the norm – a criterion of judgment.

This is highly undesirable at this juncture, when politics has to come in a big way to our creative work. This, I believe is what Solzhenitsyn meant when he said that a great novelist is a state within a state. To be a state within a state one has to be highly conscious and aware of politics- a political animal.

I have not been a political activist, however, I have been even as a teenager, a keen observer of what was happening in the country, in the political landscape. (It may have been due to the influence my father had on me). I was a political animal of sorts.

I was there at the Torrington Square when we received Independence. I watched with contempt our Prime Minister arriving there in top hat and tailcoat. I was there at the Town Hall when Bandaranaike formed his party. I was on the streets of Kandy cheering away when the ’56 victory was announced. I was in depths of despair when JR Jayewardene hoodwinked the entire nation with his Dharmista slogan and pushed his neo-liberal economic policy on us which resulted in two insurrections, one in the South and one in the North. The US with the collaboration of India was planning to impose Federalism on us. The neo liberal economic policy ruined not only our economy but also our culture and civilizational values. My dreams had by then vanished. I was feeling .dejected and utterly hopeless. I needed to unburden the oppression within me. It was this mindset which forced me to embark on this narrative. It was a therapy I needed very much.

In order to achieve it I needed an alter ego through whom to articulate my thoughts. It had to be a Piyadasa from the middle class to which I too belonged. Further it had to be the journey undertaken by this middle class. You might ask why the middle class? Obviously, it was the middle class after the ’56 victory that determined the destiny of this country for good or for bad.

How and when did this middle class emerge? The genesis of this class had to be sorted out first. The first volume of this narrative Gamanaka Mula attempts to unearth it.

Prior to the emergence of this middle class-the rural society, the village that was there, was no different to that which was there in ancient times. Anagarika Dharmapala has provided a description of that society.

‘The villagers lived a circumscribed but contented life. There were no big land owners, no capitalists. Every family had a plot of land which they cultivated. There were grasslands and forests for their common use. People lived a contented life helping each other. There was no place for individualism. Collectivism was the basis of their living. The sangha led a collective life and provided the necessary guidance’. Life at Yatalamatta where Piyadasa spent his childhood was a close replica of this society.

How did a middle class emerge from this background? How and when did this middle class emerge?

By the beginning of the last century there appeared a new class in the village. It consisted of vernacular teachers, headmen, post masters, and petty government officials. Unlike the villagers they had a consistent income by way of a monthly salary. They were fairly educated too, and had an inkling of the changes that were taking place outside their village. They realised that if they were to keep abreast, they will have to send their children out of the village and give them an English education.

Piyadasa’s mother was the headmistress of a school. His father was an enlightened person and a devotee of Anagarika Dharmapala. They decided to send Piyadasa to the Christian school at Baddegama first and then to Colombo to stay with his aunt who had come to live in the suburbs of Colombo where her husband was employed. They had no children of their own. The parents of Piyadasa had no great ambitions. They were quite happy if Piyadasa could be put in trousers and employed as a clerk. These middle-class ambitions soared only after 1944 with the advent of the Free Education system.

Being a keen student Piyadasa matriculated and entered the University College in Colombo to follow a course in Economics. It was the tail end of World War 2.

The society in which Piyadasa moved in Colombo was a hive of activity with nationalist and Buddhist resurgent movements, raging across that society. Free education was the main issue that kept these movements going. Figures like Malalasekera and Mettananda dominated the scene. Piyadasa and his friends attended those meetings and got thoroughly involved in them.

With the establishment of the University of Ceylon at Peradeniya, Piyadasa had to go there. It came as a surprise to Piyadasa to realise that in spite of those magnificent buildings reminding one of Anuradhapura and Polonnaruwa, it was a dead city, devoid of any intellectual or political activity. If there was any political activity, it was confined to a miniscule Trotskyite group for whom it was a parlour game to be engaged in, till they joined the Civil Service. Piyadasa was neither interested in such politics nor the civil service. Anything resembling any intellectual activity was the cultural activities initiated by Sarachchandra. It was to overcome the boredom of living that Piyadasa drifted there. But very soon he fell under the spell of Sarachchandra who was an out and out aesthete who was not concerned with anything happening in the society. In fact, he was very cynical of these national or Buddhist activities. He considered those leaders as hypocrites. He was even cynical of his own discipline of Indian philosophy and Western Philosophy. He considered them as blind alleys and often quoted Omar Khayam’s verses to justify his view. When Sarachchandra over a glass of beer quoted those verses by Omar Khayyam, Piyadasa listened to him spell bound.

The spell was short lived. Sarachchandra left for Japan and Piyadasa was left high and dry with nothing to look forward to in that desert.

He had nothing to look forward to. His attempt to win the heart of a girl whom he adored had failed. His aspirations to get an academic post too failed. In sheer desperation Piyadasa applied for a government job and obtained the post of an Assistant Commissioner of Agrarian Services and moved out to Kalutara. The volume Inimage Ihalata describes this period of his life.

Kalutara was a sleepy town. The only ‘living spot’ was the government Servants’ Club- where the government servants spent their evenings drinking till midnight. Piyadasa too followed them. Thereafter the only avenue to kill the boredom was to practice what Omar Khayyam had advised – to seek the pleasures of the flesh which soon filled him with disgust. The volume Wankagiriyaka describes this phase in Piyadasa’s life.

For his good fortune things changed quite unexpectedly. He fell in love with a woman after his heart and got married. His good fortune did not stop there. Quite unexpectedly he was offered a post at the Peradeniya University. Piyadasa and his wife came to live in Kandy, in a room at Queen’s Hotel where they listened to the thewawa at the Dalada maligawa, morning and evening. The volume Yali Maga Wetha discusses this period of his life.

In Kandy, Piyadasa came across a group of more or less his own age who were political animals who were very concerned about what was happening in the country. Their company awakened the political animal in Piyadasa that had gone to sleep over the last two or three years.

The group consisted of two die-hard Marxists Alaya and Bassa and, Thilakasena and Weera who were more inclined to SLFP politics. They met in Thilakasena’s room at least every other day, went on till late midnight engaged in violent debates. The two Marxists’ attitude to the failure of the United Front Government which they had helped to win was the non-implementation of the Marxist theories by the government fully. Thilakasena was of a different view. He attributed the failure to the forcing of the Marxist policies without considering the Buddhist cultural background of the people. Piyadasa went further and attributed the failure to the models we have borrowed from the West without seeking an indigenous model based on our civilisation which had disintegrated with foreign conquests but had left a civilisational consciousness in the minds of the people. This was challenged by the two Marxist who saw it as a fantasy on the part of Piyadasa.

(To be concluded)

All News Advertisement

Related Topics:Dr Gunadasa Amarasekera Middle Class

Up Next

Wayward journey of middle class: Some reflections

Don't Miss

Export what?

Click to comment

Opinion

When crisis comes to classroom:

Published

17 hours ago

2025/12/15

Sahan Weerasooriya

Sri Lanka Navy helping schoolchildren during the recent floods

How Sri Lankan children face natural disasters and economic problems

Sri Lanka has always found ways to survive storms. But during the past ten years, the storms have come more often and with more force. Floods have swallowed villages, landslides have buried homes, droughts have dried wells, and cyclones have pushed families out of their coastal towns. Then came the economic crisis in 2022 and 2023, which felt like an invisible disaster happening quietly inside every home. In the middle of all this were our schoolchildren. Their names rarely appeared in newspapers. Many of their stories were never told. A new study brings these voices together and shows how overlapping crises have reshaped education across the island. It also reveals something important: not all children suffered the same way.

This article tells that story through the experiences of teachers, parents and children. It also explains why some regions, some ethnic communities and some families struggled much more than others.

A decade of disruption

Over the past decade, Sri Lanka’s school system has been hit again and again. Floods in Ratnapura, Kalutara and Galle have become almost yearly events. Landslides in Badulla and Nuwara Eliya have cut off whole communities. Cyclones in Batticaloa and Ampara have damaged classrooms and left children in fear. Long droughts in the North and East have forced families to live with empty wells.

Then the economic crisis arrived. It brought fuel shortages, food shortages, transport problems, high prices and a heavy sense of uncertainty. Teachers stood in long queues just to buy a few litres of petrol. Parents struggled to buy exercise books. School buses stopped running. Many children stayed home. A school principal from the hill country said he could not remember a single year without crisis. “One month we have floods. The next month we have landslides,” he said. “The children keep losing learning time.” These experiences echo earlier concerns raised by Angela Little (2003) and Harsha Aturupane (2014), who showed that rural, estate and conflict-affected areas have always faced extra barriers. The new study suggests that recent disasters have made those old inequalities even wider.

When geography decides a child’s future

Sri Lanka is small, but the risks children face depend heavily on where they live. In the flood-prone river areas, schools often close for long periods. Many become temporary shelters filled with families, mats, cooking pots and clothing. Teachers say it can take weeks to clean and reopen classrooms. In the estate sector, children live high in the hills. When a landslide blocks a single narrow road, school simply stops. A teacher in Badulla said she once walked six kilometres during landslide season just to reach her students. “Some days I held on to tree roots to climb,” she said with a tired smile.

In cyclone-prone districts like Batticaloa and Ampara, fear becomes part of childhood. When the wind changes, parents start to worry. School roofs fly off. Books get soaked. Homes crumble. Recovery takes time, and many families cannot afford repairs.

In the drought-hit North and East, children sometimes miss school because they must help their mothers collect water. Teachers say these children return dusty, tired and unable to focus. Lalith Perera (2015) showed how geospatial tools can identify the highest-risk schools. The new study supports his findings and shows that children in these areas lose far more learning days than children in urban schools.

Ethnicity adds another layer to the struggle

Sri Lanka’s ethnic geography shapes children’s lives in deep ways. Tamil families in the North and East still face the long shadow of war-related poverty and lack of resources, as described by Shanmugaratnam (2015) and Samarasinghe (2020). Many schools in these areas are old, understaffed and in poor condition. When a cyclone or drought hits, recovery becomes slow and difficult. A teacher in Mullaitivu said her classroom lost its roof during a storm. “The children sat under a tree for weeks,” she recalled. “They still came. They did not want to fall behind.”

Muslim communities along the Eastern coast face frequent displacement during cyclonic seasons. When fishing families lose their boats and nets, income disappears. Children often miss school because parents cannot afford uniforms or bus fares.

Estate Tamil communities, studied earlier by Little and Jayaweera, continue to face long-term marginalisation. Many children rely heavily on school meal programmes. When the economic crisis disrupted these meals, teachers saw hunger more clearly than ever. Some children fainted in class.

In all these communities, ethnicity and geography combine to create layers of disadvantage that are hard to escape.

The economic crisis: A silent blow to education

The economic crisis of 2022–2023 affected every Sri Lankan home, but its impact was especially hard on low-income families. Economists like Nisha Arunatilake (2022) and Ramani Gunatilaka (2022) have shown how inflation and job losses pushed households into deep stress. These pressures directly affected children’s education.

With no fuel, many teachers could not travel. They walked long distances or hitchhiked. In some schools, several classes were combined because only a few teachers could come. School supplies became expensive. Parents reused old books or bought cheap, low-quality paper. Uniforms were patched many times. Some children wore slippers because shoes were too costly. Food shortages made everything worse. With rising prices, families reduced meals. In the estate sector, teachers saw hunger growing. Attendance fell.

Gender roles also shifted. Girls in rural areas took on childcare and cooking while parents worked longer hours. Boys were pushed into temporary labour. A mother in Monaragala said her teenage son cut timber to support the family. “He comes home exhausted,” she said. “How can he study after that?” Earlier, Selvy Jayaweera (2014) warned that crises deepen gender inequalities. The new study shows that her warning has come true again.

Schools tried to cope, but not all were ready

During field visits, researchers met principals who showed remarkable leadership. Some created disaster committees, organised awareness programmes and kept strong communication with parents. These schools recovered fast. Communities helped clean classrooms. Teachers volunteered for extra lessons. But many schools struggled. Some had no emergency plans. Others had old buildings damaged from past disasters. Some principals lacked training in crisis response. A few schools did not even have complete first aid boxes.

The difference between prepared and unprepared schools became painfully clear. After a cyclone in Batticaloa, one school restarted within a week. A nearby school stayed closed for nearly a month because debris and broken furniture filled the classrooms. Resilience expert Rajib Shaw (2012) highlighted the importance of strong partnerships between schools and communities. This study confirms that his message still holds true.

Families found ways to cope, but children paid the price

Every Sri Lankan family has its own survival strategies. Some borrow money. Some rely on relatives abroad. Some work extra hours. Some move to other districts. But these strategies often disrupt children’s schooling. When a father leaves home for work in another district, children lose emotional support. When a mother works late at a tea estate, older daughters must care for younger siblings. When a family moves temporarily, children lose teachers, routines and friends. A father in Ratnapura said he felt torn. “I want my daughter to study,” he said. “But how can I think of school when the river rises every year and we lose everything?” Years ago, sociologist K. T. Silva (2010) wrote about how poverty and displacement interrupt education. The new study shows that these patterns continue today.

How crises make old inequalities worse

One strong message from the study is that disasters do not create inequality they deepen what already exists. Rural schools with fewer resources suffer greater damage. Estate children who already face hunger become even more vulnerable. Tamil and Muslim families in hazard-prone areas must deal with both environmental and historical burdens.

Climate disasters also come in cycles. One flood does not end the struggle. Children who lose one month of school every year slowly fall behind. Their confidence drops. Their chances of continuing to higher education shrink. Meanwhile, well-resourced urban schools recover quickly. They have strong buildings, better communication and supportive parents. Their losses are small and temporary. The gap between privileged and vulnerable children grows wider each year.

What Sri Lanka can do now

Sri Lanka stands at a turning point. Climate change will bring more storms and droughts. The economy is still fragile. Schools must be prepared.

Every school needs a clear emergency plan. Preparedness should be part of daily school life safer buildings, evacuation routes, first aid training, and strong communication networks. Vulnerable regions need extra support. Flood-prone river basins, cyclone-hit coasts, drought-affected northern districts and the estate sector require more funding and attention. School meals must be protected. For many children, this meal is the difference between hunger and hope.

Teachers need help with transport and crisis training. Families need social protection so children are not forced into labour or long absences. Most importantly, education policy must place fairness at the centre. As Aturupane (2014) explained, equality cannot be achieved by giving all schools the same amount. Some schools need more because their burdens are heavier.

Stories that should guide policy

The most powerful part of this research is not the statistics. It is the stories:

A boy in Ratnapura losing his schoolbag to the floods.A teacher in Badulla walking through mud for her students.A mother in Batticaloa cooking in a cyclone shelter.A girl in Mullaitivu studying under a tree after her classroom roof blew away.A Muslim family in Ampara sheltering in a mosque during every storm.A Tamil child in Kilinochchi missing school to fetch water during drought.

These are the voices policymakers must listen to.

A future that values every child

Sri Lanka’s future depends on the minds of its children. If classrooms become unstable places, the country’s future becomes uncertain. But there is hope. Many teachers showed deep dedication. Many parents worked tirelessly to keep their children in school. Many communities showed unity and strength. If the government builds on this resilience through better planning, fairer funding and stronger support for vulnerable regions children’s dreams can survive the storms ahead. What we choose today will decide whether the next generation inherits disaster or opportunity.

References

Aturupane, H. (2014). Equity and Access in Sri Lankan Education. World Bank.Arunatilake, N. (2022). Economic Vulnerability and Social Protection in Times of Crisis. Institute of Policy Studies.Fernando, P. (2018). Household Vulnerability and Educational Participation in Rural Sri Lanka. SAGE Publications.Gunatilaka, R. (2022). The Impact of Economic Shocks on Sri Lankan Households. International Labour Organization.Jayaweera, S. (2014). Gender Dimensions of Educational Inequality in Sri Lanka. Centre for Women’s Research.Little, A. W. (2003). Education, Conflict and Social Cohesion in Sri Lanka. UNESCO.Perera, L. (2015). Geospatial Approaches to Educational Planning in Disaster-Prone Regions. Asian Development Bank.Samarasinghe, V. (2020). Regional Inequalities and Social Exclusion in Sri Lanka. Routledge.Shanmugaratnam, N. (2015). Post-War Development and Marginalisation in Northern Sri Lanka. Nordic Asia Press.Shaw, R. (2012). Community-Based Disaster Risk Reduction and School Resilience. Earthscan.Silva, K. T. (2010). Poverty, Displacement, and Educational Access in Sri Lanka. Social Scientists’ Association.UNICEF Sri Lanka. (2018). School Safety and Disaster Preparedness in Sri Lanka.

Opinion

The policy of Sinhala Only and downgrading of English

Published

2 days ago

2025/12/14

Thilina Walpola

In 1956 a Sri Lankan politician riding a great surge of populism, made a move that, at a stroke, disabled a functioning civil society operating in the English language medium in Sri Lanka. He had thrown the baby out with the bathwater.

It was done to huge, ecstatic public joy and applause at the time but in truth, this action had serious ramifications for the country, the effects have, no doubt, been endlessly mulled over ever since.

However, there is one effect/ aspect that cannot be easily dismissed – the use of legal English of an exact technical quality used for dispensing Jurisprudence (certainty and rational thought). These court certified decisions engendered confidence in law, investment and business not only here but most importantly, among the international business community.

Well qualified, rational men, Judges, thought rationally and impartially through all the aspects of a case in Law brought before them. They were expert in the use of this specialised English, with all its meanings and technicalities – but now, a type of concise English hardly understandable to the casual layman who may casually look through some court proceedings of yesteryear.

They made clear and precise rulings on matters of Sri Lankan Law. These were guiding principles for administrative practice. This body of case law knowledge has been built up over the years before Independence. This was in fact, something extremely valuable for business and everyday life. It brought confidence and trust – essential for conducting business.

English had been developed into a precise tool for analysing and understanding a problem, a matter, or a transaction. Words can have specific meanings, they were not, merely, the play- thing of those producing “fake news”. English words as used at that time, had meaning – they carried weight and meaning – the weight of the law!

Now many progressive countries around the world are embracing English for good economic and cultural reasons, but in complete contrast little Sri Lanka has gone into reverse!

A minority of the Sinhalese population, (the educated ones!) could immediately see at the time the problems that could arise by this move to down-grade English including its high-quality legal determinations. Unfortunately, seemingly, with the downgrading of English came a downgrading of the quality of inter- personal transactions.

A second failure was the failure to improve the “have nots” of the villagers by education. Knowledge and information can be considered a universal right. Leonard Woolf’s book “A village in the Jungle” makes use of this difference in education to prove a point. It makes infinitely good politics to reduce this education gap by education policies that rectify this important disadvantage normal people of Sri Lanka have.

But the yearning of educators to upgrade the education system as a whole, still remains a distant goal. Advanced English spoken language is encouraged individually but not at a state level. It has become an orphaned child. It is the elites that can read the standard classics such as Treasure Island or Sherlock Holmes and enjoy them.

But, perhaps now, with the country in the doldrums, more people will come to reflect on these failures of foresight and policy implementation. Isn’t the doldrums all the proof you need?

by Priyantha Hettige

Opinion

GOODBYE, DEAR SIR

Published

2 days ago

2025/12/14

Thilina Walpola

It is with deep gratitude and profound sorrow that we remember Mr. K. L. F. Wijedasa, remarkable athletics coach whose influence reached far beyond the track. He passed away on November 4, exactly six months after his 93rd birthday, having led an exemplary and disciplined life that enabled him to enjoy such a long and meaningful innings. To those he trained, he was not only a masterful coach but a mentor, a friend, a steady father figure, and an enduring source of inspiration. His wisdom, kindness, and unwavering belief in every young athlete shaped countless lives, leaving a legacy that will continue to echo in the hearts of all who were fortunate enough to be guided by him.

I was privileged to be one of the many athletes who trained under his watchful eye from the time Mr. Wijedasa began his close association with Royal College in 1974. He was largely responsible for the golden era of athletics at Royal College from 1973 to 1980. In all but one of those years, Royal swept the board at all the leading Track & Field Championships — from the Senior and Junior Tarbat Shields to the Daily News Trophy Relay Carnival. Not only did the school dominate competitions, but it also produced star-class athletes such as sprinter Royce Koelmeyer; sprint and long & triple jump champions Godfrey Fernando and Ravi Waidyalankara; high jumper and pole vaulter Cletus Dep; Olympic 400m runner Chrisantha Ferdinando; sprinters Roshan Fernando and the Indraratne twins, Asela and Athula; and record-breaking high jumper Dr. Dharshana Wijegunasinghe, to name just a few.

Royal had won the Senior & Junior Tarbats as well as the Relay Carnival in 1973 by a whisker and was looking for a top-class coach to mould an exceptionally talented group of athletes for 1974 and beyond. This was when Mr. Wijedasa entered the scene, beginning a lifelong relationship with the athletes of Royal College from 1974 to 1987. He received excellent support from the then Principal, late Mr. L. D. H. Pieris; Vice Principal, late Mr. E. C. Gunesekera; and Masters-in-Charge Mr. Dharmasena, Mr. M. D. R. Senanayake, and Mr. V. A. B. Samarakone, with whom he maintained a strong and respectful rapport throughout his tenure.

An old boy of several schools — beginning at Kandegoda Sinhala Mixed School in his hometown, moving on to Dharmasoka Vidyalaya, Ambalangoda, Moratu Vidyalaya, and finally Ananda College — he excelled in both sports and studies. He later graduated in Geography, from the University of Peradeniya. During his undergraduate days, he distinguished himself as a sprinter, establishing a new National Record in the 100 metres in 1955. Beyond academics and sports, Mr. Wijedasa also demonstrated remarkable talent in drama.

Though proudly an Anandian, he became equally a Royalist through his deep association with Royal’s athletics from the 1970s. So strong was this bond that he eventually admitted his only son, Duminda, to Royal College. The hallmark of Mr. Wijedasa was his tireless dedication and immense patience as a mentor. Endurance and power training were among his strengths —disciplines that stood many of us in good stead long after we left school.

More than champions on the track, it is the individuals we became in later life that bear true testimony to his loving guidance. Such was his simplicity and warmth that we could visit him and his beloved wife, Ransiri, without appointment. Even long after our school days, we remained in close touch. Those living overseas never failed to visit him whenever they returned to Sri Lanka. These visits were filled with fond reminiscences of our sporting days, discussions on world affairs, and joyful moments of singing old Sinhala songs that he treasured.

It was only fitting, therefore, that on his last birthday on May 4 this year, the Old Royalists’ Athletic Club (ORAC) honoured him with a biography highlighting his immense contribution to athletics at Royal. I was deeply privileged to co-author this book together with Asoka Rodrigo, another old boy of the school.

Royal, however, was not the first school he coached. After joining the tutorial staff of his alma mater following graduation, he naturally coached Ananda College before moving on to Holy Family Convent, Bambalapitiya — where he first met the “love of his life,” Ransiri, a gifted and versatile sportswoman. She was not only a national champion in athletics but also a top netballer and basketball player in the 1960s. After his long and illustrious stint at Royal College, he went on to coach at schools such as Visakha Vidyalaya and Belvoir International.

The school arena was not his only forte. Mr. Wijedasa also produced several top national athletes, including D. K. Podimahattaya, Vijitha Wijesekera, Lionel Karunasena, Ransiri Serasinghe, Kosala Sahabandu, Gregory de Silva, Sunil Gunawardena, Prasad Perera, K. G. Badra, Surangani de Silva, Nandika de Silva, Chrisantha Ferdinando, Tamara Padmini, and Anula Costa. Apart from coaching, he was an efficient administrator as Director of Physical Education at the University of Colombo and held several senior positions in national sporting bodies. He served as President of the Amateur Athletic Association of Sri Lanka in 1994 and was also a founder and later President of the Ceylonese Track & Field Club. He served with distinction as a national selector, starter, judge, and highly qualified timekeeper.

The crowning joy of his life was seeing his legacy continue through his children and grandchildren. His son, Duminda, was a prominent athlete at Royal and later a National Squash player in the 1990s. In his later years, Mr. Wijedasa took great pride in seeing his granddaughter, Tejani, become a reputed throwing champion at Bishop’s College, where she currently serves as Games Captain. Her younger brother, too, is a promising athlete.

He is survived by his beloved wife, Ransiri, with whom he shared 57 years of a happy and devoted marriage, and by their two children, Duminda and Puranya. Duminda, married to Debbie, resides in Brisbane, Australia, with their two daughters, Deandra and Tennille. Puranya, married to Ruvindu, is blessed with three children — Madhuke, Tejani, and Dharishta.

Though he has left this world, the values he instilled, the lives he shaped, and the spirit he ignited on countless tracks and fields will live on forever — etched in the hearts of generations who were privileged to call him Sir (Coach).

NIRAJ DE MEL, Athletics Captain of Royal College 1976

Deputy Chairman, Old Royalists’ Athletics Club (ORAC)