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When Engineering meets Marxism: Remembering Bahu and Chris Rodrigo

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by Rajan Philips

“Nature builds no machines,” wrote Marx in a famous passage in the Grundrisse. They are “products of human industry; natural material transformed into organs of the human will over nature, or of human participation in nature.” Fundamentally, Marxism is the (socialist) theory and practice of industrial societies. Marx’s insights on the logic of automation is now drawing the attention of technology watchers who are both excited and concerned by the current phenomenon of Artificial Intelligence (AI). In the complex environment of human labour, labour-created, labour-saving and labour-replacing machinery and automation, and the mostly uneven industrial society at large, engineering education and research are a critical medium providing training to human resources and technical mastery over material resources.

Wickramabahu Karunaratne (1943-2024) who passed away on July 25, and Chris Rodrigo (1942-2024) who passed away on March 08, 2024, were two contemporaries, who belonged to the medium of engineering education and research in Sri Lanka, first as students and later as teachers at Peradeniya. They were also political comrades attracted to Marxism, first as young members of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party and later as pioneers of the New Sama Samaja Party.

I first came to know them as a student in the 1970s at the Peradeniya Engineering Faculty. Both Bahu and Chris returned with PhDs from England while we were students. Bahu, who was known for his creative solutions in his Math tutorials (in addition to creative palm reading) as a student joined the Engineering Mathematics Department. Chris became a lecturer in Electrical Engineering joining Kumar David who was senior to them. Another prominent leftist in the Faculty at that time was Sivanandam Sivasegaram, in Mechanical Engineering; he was identified with Maoism and not Trotskyism like Bahu, Chris and Kumar.

All of them were part of a contingent of left leaning Engineering students in the 1960s who went on to make their mark as professionals in Sri Lanka and abroad. The familiar names that come to mind include Bernard Wijedoru, Sivaguru Ganesan, Wijitha Dharmawardena, and Chris Ratnayake. Coincidentally or not, the political awakening of the student days proved to be most lasting among those who joined the academia as opposed to those who joined the industry.

They were also part of a galaxy of university lecturers in other disciplines who were attracted to Marxism and Left politics in post-independence Sri Lanka. The names are well-known – Doric de Souza, Bala Tampoe, IDS Weerawardena, HA de S Gunasekara, Kumari Jayawardena, Osmund Jayaratne, Senaka Bibile, Carlo Fonseka, Tissa Vitarana, Vijaya Kumar, Shantha de Alwis, Leslie Gunawardena, Silan Kadirgamar, Wiswa Warnapala, Ranjith Amarasinghe, Laksiri Fernando, Sumanasiri Liyanage, Jayadeva Uyangoda – among others. Not to mention some illustrious fellow travelers like Ian Goonetilleke and AJ Wilson.

My political association with Kumar David, Bahu, Chris Rodrigo and Shantha de Alwis, who was at the Science Faculty in Colombo, began after I left the university and was working as an Engineer and dabbling in freelance, pro bono, political journalism. I was a participant observer straddling the growing political divide between the intellectuals of the old LSSP and the young Turks of the new. Kumar David would characteristically describe my politics as being limited to committing fortnightly intellectual adultery with Hector Abhayavardhana, the theoretician of the old LSSP.

We were all more formally united in the Movement for Inter-Racial Justice and Equality (MIRJE) that was entirely the brainchild of a Marxist of a different kind – a Jesuit man of the cloth, Paul Caspersz. MIRJE arose as a response to the communal violence of 1977 and the toll it took on the Tamil people of the tea plantations. The violence came soon after JR Jayewardene and the UNP won a massive victory in the parliamentary elections that saw the Left Parties decimated and shut out of parliament altogether.

Fragments of the left were regrouping to pause and protest against the sweeping changes that the new Jayewardene government was unleashing on the country. The biggest of them, besides the open economy which had become unavoidable, was the wholly unnecessary constitutional metamorphosis from a parliamentary system of government to a presidential system.

Bahu & Chris

Enter Bahu carrying black flags and protesting in Kandy against the ceremonial swearing in of Prime Minister JR Jayewardene as Sri Lanka’s first Executive President by way of a constitutional amendment. The effrontery was too much for someone in the government and Bahu was fired from the university. The government may have been encouraged by the fact that he had been earlier expelled from the LSSP and the government may have also wanted to send a message to other potential protesters in public institutions. Bahu was forced into fulltime politics, perhaps gladly so.

Chris Rodrigo left the academia for the industry briefly joining the National Institute of Management. He then moved to the US and started an entirely new academic career in the field of economics, adding a PhD in Economics at Cornell to his PhD in Electrical Engineering in London. Chris was a recognized expert in international development and undertook many assignments in developing countries for the World Bank, IMF and UNIDO. His base was in George Mason University, Virginia, near Washington DC, where he shared the departmental corridor with the likes of Seymour Martin Lipset and Francis Fukuyama.

Bahu and Chris came from Sinhala Buddhist and Sinhala Catholic families and had their education at Ananda College and St. Thomas’ College, respectively. I do not know what inspired them to progressive politics, but I do remember Bahu talking about the influence of teachers at Ananada College who were supporters of left wing political parties. And he would throw in the spice that the politically inclined students who got to the A’ Level and entered the university joined the LSSP while others went with Philip Gunawardena.

I used to meet Bahu frequently when he was at Peradeniya, and I was working on the Mahaweli hydropower projects in Ukuwela and Bowatenna. We met occasionally in Colombo and have attended MIRJE meetings in Jaffna. Over the years I lost contact with him except for shared email communications. For several months in 2006/2007, Bahu, Kumar and I wrote concurrently for the Sunday Observer when Rajpal Abeynayake was the editor, courtesy of introductions by Rohan Edrisinha. But I did not meet Bahu in person during that time or after.

It was a different story with Chris and his wife Milan Lin. Milan is a Chinese-Indian Sri Lankan, with a Chinese father and an Indian Tamil mother. Chris first met Milan when she was a Lecturer in the Sinhala Department at Peradeniya. She later joined the National Savings Bank and the two married during the July 1978 Bank Strike. Milan was on the picket line when Chris came with two witnesses, one of whom was Vasudeva Nanayakkara, and accompanied her to a registrar’s office nearby.

My wife Amali and I often met them in Colombo and exchanged visits after we moved to Canada and Chris and Milan to the US. It was Chris who introduced me to Upali Cooray at the MIRJE inaugural meeting. A brilliant labour lawyer (who appeared only at Labour Tribunals without the black coat) and trade union activist both in Sri Lanka and in London, Upali would become a stalwart of the MIRJE organization.

For all the years I have known Chris, I was always struck by his rich and sonorous voice, but never thought of asking him if he was a singer; I should have, given my Catholic family background and familiarity with the Gregorian chant. So, it was a pleasant surprise to read in Kumar David’s obituary that Chris Rodrigo was a trained tenor who loved to sing. He would have been in good company in the LSSP. Doric de Souza was known for musically whistling a whole Beethoven Symphony; Osmund Jayaratne was a theatre persona; and a very young NM Perera, later an accomplished ballroom dancer, was the lead actor in the first (silent) movie filmed in Sri Lanka.

Bahu was differently talented – in painting and in sculpture. Two of his creations, I believe, are still around at the Faculty at Peradeniya. In an email after Bahu’s death, Dr. Sivasegaram mentioned that Bahu also took to designing shirts and trained a tailor in Penideniya to produce them! A good student of Hegel, Bahu published a paper on Buddhist dialectics. Bahu and Sivasegaram, the latter well known for his poems in Tamil and work on the Tamil script, jointly wrote a paper in the 1970s on a cursive script for Sinhala.

All of this, in summary and to paraphrase Hector Abhyavardhana, attest to the necessary role of leftists and left organizations in providing the meeting place between the forces of social change and the highest attributes of human culture. Even as the writings of Marx provide continuing relevance “to understanding the troubled state of contemporary capitalism,” regardless of the checkered outcomes of the political projects launched in the name of Marxism to overthrow capitalism.

Bahu’s Politics

For all his academic brilliance, talents and versatility, Bahu was quintessentially a political man. He joined the LSSP in 1962 as a student at the age of 19, was elected to the Central Committee of the Party in 1972 when he was a university lecturer, and three years later was expelled from the Party. In three more years, in 1978, he was dismissed from the university. Bahu was 35 years old when he lost his job.

There is a parallel between Bahu and Bala Tampoe, who was a young lecturer in Agriculture and an LSSP member and was fired from his job for taking part in the 1947 general strike. Tampoe was 25, took to law and trade union work, and became a noted criminal lawyer, powerful trade union stalwart, and a frontline LSSP leader. Tampoe was the LSSP candidate for the Borella seat in 1960.

At the 1964 LSSP Conference Tampoe rather unexpectedly led the walkout of those who were opposed to the LSSP joining a coalition government with the SLFP. According to Bahu, NM was in tears pleading with the dissidents not to leave the Party. In contrast, Bahu and others who were associated with the Vama tendency within the LSSP did not want to leave to LSSP but were expelled from the Party.

Almost fifty to sixty years later, relitigating who was right and who was wrong would be an inconclusive exercise at best. The stark reality is that none of the political positions or paths taken by the different actors on the Left turned out to be durably viable or successful. In fact, many of them turned out to be disastrously unsuccessful. The sharp differences that had caused sectarian strives started looking insignificant as the open economy and the presidential system wore on.

Specific to Bahu, the context and the circumstances in which he was constrained to organize and cultivate his politics were wholly different from the early decades of the left movement, or the post-independence years that Bala Tampoe had to navigate through. At the organizational level, the space and opportunities for building a new political movement or party were seriously limited in the 1980s and after, unlike in the earlier times. The 1930s and 1940s had their own challenges, but someone like Bahu would have thrived in facing them in the context of that time. But the methods of the 1930s and 1940s were not appropriate for the millennium years.

The political challenges were also different. The state had grown more repressive than during the colonial rule, both as a result of and as a provoker of the emergence of the JVP and the LTTE forces. The Tamil question had escalated to the point of fighting over a separate state. Historically, 1956 and 1977 were watershed years but for different reasons. 1956 unleashed the nationalistic and cultural forces but more with their negative rather than positive implications. 1977, on the other hand, kickstarted a long degeneration of norms and values, and the normalization of avarice, corruption and charlatanism in a climate of political violence.

All that Bahu could do was to strike a difference in an otherwise corrosive political environment. He demonstrated that it is possible to be in politics without being corrupt, without taking bribes, and without settling political scores by shooting people. Even though he was a victim of political shooting. He was inflexible in his support of the Tamils’ right of self-determination while committing himself to making Sri Lanka equally inclusive of all its citizens which would obviate the need for separation.

To that end, Bahu rejoined the old Left in supporting the Indo-Sri Lanka Accord and the 13th Amendment to avoid a catastrophic collapse of the Sri Lankan state. He was a strong champion of the People’s Alliance spearheaded by Chandrika Kumaratunga and the Yahapalanya exercise masterminded by Ranil Wickremesinghe. They both failed but not because Bahu’s teaching was not good. The one political alliance that he steadfastly rejected was having any truck with the Rajapaksas. While others saw shades of nationalism and socialism in the Rajapaksas, Bahu was sharp enough to detect their fakeness and incompetence.



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The Digital Underground

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Illegal Foreign Exchange, Undiyal, Hawala and Money Laundering, A Four-Part Investigative Series

Forex Platforms, Cryptocurrency, AI and the New Financial Battlefield

THE INVISIBLE FINANCIAL EMPIRE – PART III

The Boyfriend Who Was Never Real

Priya, a 34-year-old professional in Colombo, met “David” on LinkedIn. He claimed to work in fintech in Singapore. For six weeks they exchanged messages daily, about work, about life, about a recent trip he had taken to the Maldives. Eventually, the conversation turned, gently and naturally, to money.

“I’ve been trading on this platform, let me show you,” he said, sharing a screenshot of a sleek trading dashboard showing consistent, impressive returns.

Priya invested a small amount first, $500. Within days, her dashboard showed it had grown to $650. She withdrew $100 successfully, just to test it. It worked. Encouraged, she invested more. Then more. Over two months, she transferred a total of $42,000 into the platform.

When she tried to withdraw her full balance, the platform demanded a “regulatory release fee” of $8,000 before funds could be unlocked. She paid it. Then another fee appeared. Then the platform stopped responding altogether. “David” vanished. The trading dashboard, the customer support chat, the entire brokerage, all of it had never been real.

This is what investigators now call “pig butchering”, and, in 2026, the most disturbing development is not the scam itself, which has existed for years, but what now powers it: artificial intelligence has industrialised the entire operation.

From Manual Fraud to Machine-Generated Deception

For most of the past decade, romance-and-investment scams, like the one that targeted Priya, required enormous manual labour. Scam operations, many of them staffed by trafficked workers held against their will in compounds across Myanmar, Cambodia, and Laos, needed real humans to build relationships with victims over weeks, manage fake trading platforms, and respond convincingly to questions.

That labour-intensive model has now been substantially automated. According to financial-crime researchers tracking this shift through 2026, threat actors are standing up entire AI-generated “brokerage” experiences end-to-end, complete with KYC onboarding, branded customer-service chat, animated portfolio dashboards, and falsified live market data feeds, and operating them at industrial scale against multiple victims simultaneously. Generative-AI relationship managers now front the WhatsApp and Telegram conversations that once required real human scammers. AI-cloned regulator letters are generated on demand to justify the fake “release fees” that drain victims a final time before the platform disappears.

What has changed is not the deception itself, it is the production economics. The cost of running a credible synthetic brokerage against one additional victim has collapsed, meaning a single criminal network can now run hundreds of “Davids” simultaneously, each one indistinguishable from a genuine fintech professional until it is too late. (Figure 01)

Sri Lanka: From Victim Pool to Operating Base

Sri Lanka’s relationship to this global scam economy has shifted in an alarming direction over the past two years. The country is no longer only a source of victims, it has become an operating base for the criminal networks themselves.

In April, 2026, Sri Lankan police raided a five-star hotel property, in Ambakandavila, and arrested 150 individuals, including 133 Chinese nationals, 13 Vietnamese nationals, and one Malaysian national, allegedly running a cyber fraud centre with links to international criminal syndicates, based in Myanmar and Cambodia. Investigators say the operation followed a now-familiar regional pattern: recruiters advertise “online marketing” or “data entry” jobs on social media to lure foreign workers to Sri Lanka, confiscate their passports on arrival, and force them to operate scam campaigns under threat.

The Central Bank of Sri Lanka has formally flagged pig-butchering scams as a “developing threat,” warning that foreign scam networks are increasingly targeting overseas nationals through scam farms operating from Sri Lankan soil. A 2026 United Nations report estimated that at least 300,000 people have been trafficked into scam centres across Southeast Asia.

This is not an abstract international problem. It is unfolding in hotels and rented properties across the country, exploiting the same infrastructure, high-speed internet, affordable accommodation, accessible tourist visas, that Sri Lanka has built to attract legitimate digital businesses and tourists.

Where the Money Actually Goes: The Stablecoin Pipeline

Behind every successful pig-butchering scam sits a laundering pipeline that has been transformed almost as dramatically as the scams themselves, and the transformation has a single dominant feature: stablecoins.

According to the Financial Action Task Force’s March 2026, report, drawing on analysis from blockchain intelligence firms Chainalysis and TRM Labs, stablecoins accounted for 84% of the USD 154 billion in illicit virtual asset transaction volume recorded in 2025, the highest share ever observed, and a dramatic jump from just 15% only a few years earlier. TRM Labs separately found that illicit entities received USD 141 billion in stablecoins, in 2025 alone, the highest level observed in five years. (See Table 01)

The scale of state-level abuse is striking. A Russian sanctions-evasion network built around the ruble-pegged stablecoin A7A5 processed more than USD 72 billion in total volume in 2025.

Fighting Fire with Fire: AI on the Defensive Side

The same artificial intelligence reshaping financial crime is also, out of necessity, reshaping the defence against it. Legacy anti-money laundering systems, built on static, rule-based thresholds, have proven badly outmatched by AI-generated fraud operating at machine speed. Research cited by compliance technology analysts suggests that between 90% and 95% of alerts generated by legacy AML systems are false positives, consuming enormous investigator time while genuinely suspicious activity slips through.

This is not a frictionless transition. AI models are notoriously difficult to explain to regulators and examiners in the way traditional rule-based systems are. The practical compromise emerging across the industry is a hybrid model: AI handles the initial scoring and prioritisation of risk, while documented rule-based logic still governs the final decision that must be defensible to a regulator.

The Regulatory Response: Catching Up to the Digital Frontier

Regulators worldwide have begun moving to close the most dangerous gaps exposed by this digital transformation of financial crime. (See Table 02)

What Comes Next

We have now traced this investigation from the centuries-old mechanics of Hawala and Undiyal, through the three-stage architecture that turns criminal proceeds into apparently legitimate wealth, to the AI-generated frontier of digital financial crime reshaping all of it at machine speed.

In our concluding instalment, Part IV: “Sri Lanka at the Crossroads: Economic Consequences, Organised Crime and the Road Ahead”, we bring this series home. We examine precisely what all of this costs Sri Lanka in hard economic terms: lost remittances, exchange rate pressure, tax revenue forgone, and the 2026 FATF evaluation that will determine whether the country’s institutions can demonstrate, with evidence rather than legislation alone, that they are equal to this challenge. We close with a practical policy roadmap.

(The writer, a senior Chartered Accountant and professional banker, is Professor at SLIIT, Malabe.
Views expressed in this article are personal.)

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‘There are no private universities in Sri Lanka’ – some considerations for higher education reform

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Academics involved in education policy like to say that there is no such thing as a private university in Sri Lanka. The only ‘universities’ in the country are state universities; anything else offering degrees is a private higher education institution (HEI). This position is technically accurate. Yet, in the discourse and imagination of the public, private universities are very real – people teach in them, students register in them, families pay fees, and such degree holders enter job markets in Sri Lanka and outside.

For decades, activists concerned for public higher education have ignored or resisted looking at private HEIs, as if such scrutiny would taint them. Others have worked in both types of institutions, carrying practices from each to the other. The apex body governing state universities, the UGC, has, meanwhile, ignored the concept of conflict of interest and appointed individuals in private higher education in committees and leadership positions. It is unsurprising then that some of the ideologies informing private higher education appear in reform agendas in the state sector.

This is a good time then to consider the varying types of private HEIs around us, and to take a look at some of the issues within them in the hope that higher education reform agendas will include private, as well as state higher education.

What is a ‘private university’?

First, some clarifications. In the public imaginary, a ‘private university’ is typically an institution that provides a foreign or local degree for which the student makes a payment. But this broad classification encompasses a host of diverse institutions and types of degrees which I detail below.

The Non-State Higher Education Division (NSHE) of the Ministry of Education has recognised 295 degrees by 32 institutions. Most of these are private companies and include a handful of established, well-known private HEIs that are ‘university like’. The degrees are local degrees conferred by the institutions accredited by the NSHE Division. While private HEIs conferring local degrees must be accredited by the NSHE Division, there appears to be no legal consequence for not doing so. In addition, there are several permutations of the private degree that miss the net of this Division and the Standing Committee on Accreditation and Quality Assurance (SCAQA) that assists this Division.

For one, degrees conferred by foreign universities offered, via these same private HEIs, are not vetted by the NSHE Division. Secondly, there is a growing plethora of private HEIs which have either no physical presence locally or only a dubious presence. The University Grants Commission has notified the public, through their website, that foreign universities listed in the Commonwealth Universities Yearbook and the World Higher Education Database are recognised, but refrained from giving any other details – which degrees? Offered by what modes? These details are not known. Some of the foreign universities in the lists may be legitimate entities in their own land but the degrees conferred locally, in their name, may not adhere to curriculum or teaching specifications of the NSHE Division or the UGC.

Another troubling phenomenon is the ‘top up degree’, which appears to work on the same principle as that of a pre-paid mobile connection: if I have a Diploma or an HND of a sort, I am eligible to complete a course of study which provides me with a degree, usually from a foreign university. The idea that someone who does not initially qualify for a degree programme should be able to work their way towards one is a progressive notion. This is the concept that open and distance learning (ODL) was based on initially, but which is now sadly exploited. ODL models are expected to provide opportunity for learning for those who may be excluded from traditional learning institutions. In Sri Lanka, however, we have seen ODL become a marketplace offering easy to obtain, for-fee qualifications by institutions with little commitment to superior teaching and learning.

Finally, a perusal of the many types of private HEIs and their varied degrees bring to mind another question – how should the private degrees, provided by state institutions (that are not educational institutions), be regulated? Who should do so?

All of these create a host of problems for the public – for hopeful students and parents and trusting employers. For the higher education sector, recruitment of academic staff, too, has become difficult due to this plethora of ambiguous higher education qualifications, as I discussed in a previous Kuppi article (‘Recruiting academics to state universities’).

Some issues in private HEIs – a bellwether for change in state universities

In this second part of this article, I will discuss some aspects of work in private HEIs – albeit the more established institutions – given that such issues may appear in reform agendas in future.

Across state universities, all permanent staff of a specific category are paid according to the same criteria. The picture is not so clear when it comes to private HEIs since they are different entities legally, typically companies. Private HEIs have salary scales and financial incentives that are different to each other. The more established private HEIs reportedly have attractive renumeration packages, possibly a reason for academics of state universities migrating eagerly to such institutions during sabbatical years and on retirement. This may not of course be the case with other less established, or improperly registered HEIs of which we know little. Academic staff of these more accepted private HEIs seem to value the high financial remuneration they receive (in comparison to state universities) as something that makes their work rewarding.

Attractive remuneration is important to sustain the good life and is at times seen as the institution’s way of encouraging good work. Yet, this has implications for the future of the institution: to continue to deliver on promised financial packages, institutions must continue to have large profit margins. One strategy has been to enroll multiple cohorts of students per year, even up to three or four intakes per year. This can result in exploitative work conditions, since staff must cater to all these cohorts in that same year. If there is inadequate staff, employees are further burdened. On the other hand, if there is a sudden drop in enrolments (degrees can go out of fashion) unexpected layoffs occur. Similar to other sectors that employ short-term contract staff – including state universities – in private HEIs, too, individual teachers, who are on short term contracts that need regular renewal, can feel pressured to work under difficult or exploitative conditions.

At the same time, even in the more established private HEIs, work norms differ from those of state universities in that they include promotional work that keeps the institution’s name in the eye of the public. The Marketing (or similarly named) unit comes up in conversations as one of the most important departments. It appears to weigh in on decision-making related to the number of staff, the amount of re-sits per exams, and other pedagogically important matters. This is a worrying example of how financial rationales interfere with pedagogically or academically sound processes, resulting in problematic results in the classroom. On the plus side, junior colleagues, who had experience in both state and private HEIs, also felt that they faced less harassment in private HEIs – primarily due to the private HEIs ability to take swift action in reported cases of harassment. This is a real indictment on state institutions and their reluctance to address chronic issues of harassment in our universities.

Yet, while we hear much about problems in state universities, we hardly hear of problems that staff in private HEIs face. One rationale for a lack of public expressions by staff is that expressions of discontent might lead to trouble given the importance of reputation for private HEIs. The worry about reputational damage is a growing concern in state universities, too, as evidenced by social media policies and internal conversations on reputational damage, consequent to negative publicity. Institutional worries of reputational damage are harmful in the long run since these impact not only freedom of expression by student and staff, but also research that is possible in and about the education sector.

Some thoughts at the end…


A close look at the private higher education sector is important given its strong presence in the country. Impending reform needs to regulate this diverse array of higher education offerings in the private sector, as well as the state institutions that offer privately-funded options of higher education (a topic for a separate Kuppi on its own). It is time we carefully considered how to build a whole system of higher education out of this broken mess.

Kaushalya Perera is a senior lecturer at the University of Colombo.

Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.

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Ready for solo spotlight

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Nish Peiris: Excited about future plans

Singer Nish Peiris is set to take the next big step in her music journey.

The talented vocalist, who has been seen and heard in the scene here for a short while, and was also featured with the now-defunct band, Inner Vision, has announced that she will be fully committing to her solo career, after completing her degree this year.

“I’m finishing my degree this year, and after that I’ll be fully committing to my solo music career,” Nish told The Island.

“I’ve already got a few tours lined up for next year, so I’m really excited for what’s ahead.”

Fans, no doubt, will remember Nish for her smooth voice and stage presence, and the good news is that she is now ready to chart her own path and bring new music to audiences at home and abroad.

With tours already planned for 2027, the year 2026 promises to be an exciting year for the young artiste as she steps into the spotlight on her own.

We wish Nish every success in this new chapter!

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