Features
When Sudhila Inverted Auster ‘Alpha Mike’
By Capt. Gihan A Fernando
gafplane@sltnet.lk
RCyAF/ SLAF, Air Ceylon, Air Lanka, Singapore Airlines and SriLankan Airlines.
Early on Saturday, October 18, 1969, my pilot-trainee colleague Sudhila and I borrowed a bicycle from Jinadasa, the mechanic at the Ratmalana Flying School, and rode to the home of Capt. Anil Rambukwella, not far from the airport. We needed his authorisation to carry out a flight in the local area. It was a standing rule at the time that all such flights must be sanctioned by an instructor who is physically present at the airport. Therefore, it was quite normal for us trainees to arrive at Ratmalana Airport in the early hours of the morning and disturb the slumbers of one of our instructors residing in the vicinity of the airport in order to obtain his permission.
When we knocked on Capt. Rambukwella’s door, his wife Mumtaz opened it and told us that the captain was still asleep. However, he soon awoke and with a customary “Be careful, boys,” signed off Sudhila for the flight. I was going along for the ride because a ‘card attack’ (insufficient funds in my flying school ‘credit card’) had temporarily prevented me from taking the controls. Therefore, I had to content myself with going aloft as a passenger on Sudhila’s training exercise. Only when a trainee had obtained his Private Pilot’s Licence (as in Sudhila’s case) was he allowed to carry passengers.
Returning to the airport, we started to prepare our airplane for the flight. Just for the record, the Auster J/1 Autocrat, registered 4R-AAM (Four Romeo Alpha Alpha Mike), was the same aircraft that, in October/November 1946, wearing its original registration VP-CAO, was flown by the late Mr. J. P. Obeyesekere from England to Ceylon. Taking nearly 40 days for the epic journey, ‘JPO’ was closely accompanied by Royal Air Force (RAF) Squadron Leader R.A.F. Farquharson in an identical Auster—registered VP-CAP—for all but a few hours of the aerial odyssey (when a sandstorm separated the two flyers). Earlier in the trip, for eight consecutive days Obeyesekere had carried another RAF Squadron Leader, named Sleigh, as passenger in his Auster from England to Castel Benito in Libya. But that’s another story…
Just before we started up the Auster’s de Havilland Gipsy Major engine (which had replaced its original Blackburn Cirrus Minor), Sudhila and I were informed by the flying school authorities that a German man who was visiting the school wanted to go on a joy flight. It was not unusual for strangers and visitors to be taken on such rides, so I volunteered to forego my jaunt with Sudhila and give the German the opportunity instead. It soon became apparent that the German, who was introduced to us as Reine Franck, didn’t speak much English. After I strapped him securely into the passenger seat, I watched the Auster take off, and then went home. Another wasted day at the flying school…

‘ALPHA MIKE’ INVERTED BY THE ROAD TO KUKULNAPE AT PALEWALA. (The bare bodied gentleman is fellow trainee pilot Nadir B Akulawala who was working for Air France in Dubai and now lives in Dehiwela in retirement)
The following morning, I was greatly surprised to see, in the morning newspaper, a photograph of Sudhila’s Auster upside down in a paddy field near Mirigama. A few minutes later Sudhila himself phoned me, and we decided to visit the scene of his recent accident. On the way there by train, he told me what had happened.
It was the time of the South West monsoon, and, taking off from the Attidiya end of the airport, along what is known as the Runway 22 direction, Sudhila had proceeded north of Ratmalana, on a sightseeing trip over the city of Colombo. After overflying the usual landmarks and areas of interest such as the Colombo Town Hall and the harbour, he attempted to head back to Ratmalana but found that cloud and rain were engulfing his return track. Our instructors had cautioned us never to fly beneath heavy rain in our light aircraft as there is always a possibility of encountering severe down draughts. Although the aircraft was equipped to be flown with reference to its instruments, Sudhila had only five hours of instrument flying time—the absolute minimum for a private pilot. Therefore, he was forced to remain clear of cloud (and rain), and always in sight of land or water.
His immediate alternative was to proceed to the Bandaranaike International Airport, Katunayake. However, as he approached Katunayake, that airport also became obscured by rain. Next, Sudhila decided to continue farther along the coast to Puttalam. But there were heavy showers. Now literally between a ‘rock and a hard place’, Sudhila and his German passenger were trapped between the central hills and the approaching rain, while fast running out of fuel. Worse still, the Auster wasn’t equipped with a radio, so Sudhila was unable to inform anyone on the ground of his plight. By now, the aircraft was being buffeted by strong winds and shaking like a leaf.
The previous day, with me on board, Sudhila had carried out a practice forced-landing (emergency landing) at Ratmalana, and it went off perfectly. We were able to touch down at the Attidiya end and stop at the first intersecting road. Therefore, Sudhila was confident of his ability to safely carry out an emergency landing—but this time ‘for real’—and he decided to put the aircraft down in a paddy field immediately below, at Pallewala, near Mirigama. He saw it as his safest option. Now, before an emergency landing a pilot should do a precautionary approach to check for any obvious impediments on the chosen landing site. So, he flew low and slow over the paddy field on which he intended to land. In doing so, the Auster attracted the attention of the people living along ‘Malaria Road’, so named because it had been cut during a malaria prevention campaign. Deciding that the makeshift ‘landing ground’ was suitable, Sudhila then executed a perfect touchdown in the mud, pulled the joy stick all the way back to his stomach, stood on his heels and slid along (the heel brakes were ineffective) until, now moving at very slow speed, the airplane struck a bund at the far end of the field. Its progress thus arrested, the Auster stood on its nose for a few seconds before tipping over onto its back (upper surface) in slow motion. As a result, the Perspex windscreen cracked while Sudhila and the hapless Herr Franck hung by their safety belts with mud pouring in through a gaping hole in the broken windshield.

AUSTER ‘ALPHA MIKE’ PARKED AT THE FLYING SCHOOL, RATMALANA
Sudhila didn’t speak any German. The only German he knew was what he had gleaned from the Air Ace Picture Library war adventure comic books. So, he shouted “Schnell! Schnell!” (“Quick! Quick!”), released his safety belt, and promptly fell on his head into the mud. The German passenger did the same and suffered the same consequences as Sudhila, but was immersed in mud to a lesser degree as he was taller. The pair then pushed open the doors, wriggled out, and got away from the aircraft. By now, curious onlookers had begun approaching the inverted Auster. With a strong smell of high-octane fuel making its presence felt, Sudhila shouted to the villagers to stay away from the aircraft, but to no avail. All he got in response was a hearty “Hoooooo!” Because Sudhila, a recent school-leaver, was smaller in stature and a ‘local’, the onlookers assumed that he was the passenger and that the suddha was the pilot, so they directed their jeers at what they perceived was the foreigner’s comedy of errors.
Sudhila soon learned that they had landed in the vicinity of the road to Kukulnape, with the Mirigama railway station close by. After commandeering a rider and bicycle, he proceeded to the railway station intending to call the Ratmalana flying school and inform them of the forced landing. When he entered the Station Master’s office, explained about the crash, and requested the use of the station telephone, the SM flatly refused, stating that people often come there with all kinds of “cock-and-bull stories” to obtain free calls. After a short silence, the SM asked Sudhila whether he knew Capt. ‘Punch’ (Panchalingam) Nadarajah; to which Sudhila replied in the affirmative, adding that he was an Air Ceylon captain. The Station Master’s face immediately lit up and he said, “He is a relative of mine, you may take a call.”
Meanwhile, the authorities at the Ratmalana flying school had pressed the ‘panic button’ and informed Police stations to look out for a cream-coloured light aircraft. Capt. J. A. (Ossie) Jayawardene, our night flying instructor, who happened to be at the flying school, looked at his watch at almost the time Sudhila was landing in the mud, and declared that the aircraft should be running out of fuel about then.
Returning from the Mirigama railway station to the crash site, Sudhila awaited the arrival of the recovery team led by the flying school’s commandant Lionel A. Loos. After handing over the aircraft to them, he took a train to Colombo, and by evening he was back home. Without telling his parents about the incident, Sudhila went to bed early. Perhaps he was still suffering from shock.
The following morning, he was woken by his excited father who told him that the morning newspaper carried a report and photo of a light aircraft crash at Mirigama. It had even mentioned the name of the pilot. The cat was out of the bag. After a brief explanation, Sudhila left quickly for Ratmalana Airport—from where he had phoned me. An enquiry was subsequently held as to how an aircraft that was authorised for a ‘local flight’ ended up, upside down no less, in a paddy field in Mirigama. Sudhila was grounded for three months.
Surprisingly, the sturdy British-built Auster aircraft had suffered only minor damage, (mainly resulting from the recovery action) and was brought back to Ratmalana by lorry. After repairs, a few months later it was back in the air, helping more young fledgling pilots to learn the art and craft of aviating. Sudhila flew for the national carrier and now lives in retirement. The whereabouts of Reine Franck are unknown.
Sadly, however, on March 11, 1971, Auster 4R-AAM was destroyed by fire in a takeoff accident at the Ratmalana airport, with both occupants losing their lives. The aircraft is now displayed in the SLAF Museum. But that also is another story.
Features
Humanitarian leadership in a time of war
There has been a rare consensus of opinion in the country that the government’s humanitarian response to the sinking of Iran’s naval ship IRIS Dena was the correct one. The support has spanned the party political spectrum and different sections of society. Social media commentary, statements by political parties and discussion in mainstream media have all largely taken the position that Sri Lanka acted in accordance with humanitarian principles and international law. In a period when public debate in Sri Lanka is often sharply divided, the sense of agreement on this issue is noteworthy and reflects positively on the ethos and culture of a society that cares for those in distress. A similar phenomenon was to be witnessed in the rallying of people of all ethnicities and backgrounds to help those affected by the Ditwah Cyclone in December last year.
The events that led to this situation unfolded with dramatic speed. In the early hours before sunrise the Dina made a distress call. The ship was one of three Iranian naval vessels that had taken part in a naval gathering organised by India in which more than 70 countries had participated, including Sri Lanka. Naval gatherings of this nature are intended to foster professional exchange, confidence building and goodwill between navies. They are also governed by strict protocols regarding armaments and conduct.
When the exhibition ended open war between the United States and Iran had not yet broken out. The three Iranian ships that participated in the exhibition left the Indian port and headed into international waters on their journey back home. Under the protocol governing such gatherings ships may not be equipped with offensive armaments. This left them particularly vulnerable once the regional situation changed dramatically, though the US Indo-Pacific Command insists the ship was armed. The sudden outbreak of war between the United States and Iran would have alerted the Iranian ships that they were sailing into danger. According to reports, they sought safe harbour and requested docking in Sri Lanka’s ports but before the Sri Lankan government could respond the Dena was fatally hit by a torpedo.
International Law
The sinking of the Dena occurred just outside Sri Lanka’s territorial waters. Whatever decision the Sri Lankan government made at this time was bound to be fraught with consequence. The war that is currently being fought in the Middle East is a no-holds-barred one in which more than 15 countries have come under attack. Now the sinking of the Dena so close to Sri Lanka’s maritime boundary has meant that the war has come to the very shores of the country. In times of war emotions run high on all sides and perceptions of friend and enemy can easily become distorted. Parties involved in the conflict tend to gravitate to the position that “those who are not with us are against us.” Such a mindset leaves little room for neutrality or humanitarian discretion.
In such situations countries that are not directly involved in the conflict may wish to remain outside it by avoiding engagement. Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath informed the international media that Sri Lanka’s response to the present crisis was rooted in humanitarian principles, international law and the United Nations. The Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) which was adopted 1982 provides the legal framework governing maritime conduct and obliges states to render assistance to persons in distress at sea. In terms of UNCLOS, countries are required to render help to anyone facing danger in maritime waters regardless of nationality or the circumstances that led to the emergency. Sri Lanka’s response to the distress call therefore reflects both humanitarianism and adherence to international law.
Within a short period of receiving the distress message from the stricken Iranian warship the Sri Lankan government sent its navy to the rescue. They rescued more than thirty Iranian sailors who had survived the attack and were struggling in the water. The rescue operation also brought to Sri Lanka the bodies of those who had perished when their ship sank. The scale of the humanitarian challenge is significant. Sri Lanka now has custody of more than eighty bodies of sailors who lost their lives in the sinking of the Dena. In addition, a second Iranian naval ship IRINS Bushehr with more than two hundred sailors has come under Sri Lanka’s protection. The government therefore finds itself responsible for survivors but also for the dignified treatment of the bodies of the dead Iranian sailors.
Sri Lanka’s decision to render aid based on humanitarian principles, not political allegiance, reinforces the importance of a rules-based international order for all countries. Reliance on international law is particularly important for small countries like Sri Lanka that lack the power to defend themselves against larger actors. For such countries a rules-based international order provides at least a measure of protection by ensuring that all states operate within a framework of agreed norms. Sri Lanka itself has played a notable role in promoting such norms. In 1971 the United Nations General Assembly adopted a resolution declaring the Indian Ocean a Zone of Peace. The initiative for this proposal came from Sri Lanka, which argued that the Indian Ocean should be protected from great power rivalry and militarisation.
Moral Beacon
Unfortunately, the current global climate suggests that the rules-based order is barely operative. Conflicts in different parts of the world have increasingly shown disregard for the norms and institutions that were created in the aftermath of the Second World War to regulate international behaviour. In such circumstances it becomes even more important for smaller countries to demonstrate their commitment to international law and to convert the bigger countries to adopt more humane and universal thinking. The humanitarian response to the Iranian sailors therefore needs to be seen in this wider context. By acting swiftly to rescue those in distress and by affirming that its actions are guided by international law, Sri Lanka has enhanced its reputation as a small country that values peace, humane values, cooperation and the rule of law. It would be a relief to the Sri Lankan government that earlier communications that the US government was urging Sri Lanka not to repatriate the Iranian sailors has been modified to the US publicly acknowledging the applicability of international law to what Sri Lanka does.
The country’s own experience of internal conflict has shaped public consciousness in important ways. Sri Lanka endured a violent internal war that lasted nearly three decades. During that period questions relating to the treatment of combatants, the protection of civilians, missing persons and accountability became central issues. As a result, Sri Lankans today are familiar with the provisions of international law that deal with war crimes, the treatment of wounded or disabled combatants and the fate of those who go missing in conflict. The country continues to host an international presence in the form of UN agencies and the ICRC that work with the government on humanitarian and post conflict issues. The government needs to apply the same principled commitment of humanitarianism and the rule of law to the unresolved issues from Sri Lanka’s own civil war, including accountability and reconciliation.
By affirming humanitarian principles and acting accordingly towards the Iranian sailors and their ship Sri Lanka has become a moral beacon for peace and goodwill in a world that often appears to be moving in the opposite direction. At a time when geopolitical rivalries are intensifying and humanitarian norms are frequently ignored, such actions carry symbolic significance. The credibility of Sri Lanka’s moral stance abroad will be further enhanced by its ability to uphold similar principles at home. Sri Lanka continues to grapple with unresolved issues arising from its own internal conflict including questions of accountability, justice, reparations and reconciliation. It has a duty not only to its own citizens, but also to suffering humanity everywhere. Addressing its own internal issues sincerely will strengthen Sri Lanka’s moral standing in the international community and help it to be a force for a new and better world.
BY Jehan Perera
Features
Language: The symbolic expression of thought
It was Henry Sweet, the English phonetician and language scholar, who said, “Language may be defined as the expression of thought by means of speech sounds“. In today’s context, where language extends beyond spoken sounds to written text, and even into signs, it is best to generalise more and express that language is the “symbolic expression of thought“. The opposite is also true: without the ability to think, there will not be a proper development of the ability to express in a language, as seen in individuals with intellectual disability.
Viewing language as the symbolic expression of thought is a philosophical way to look at early childhood education. It suggests that language is not just about learning words; it is about a child learning that one thing, be it a sound, a scribble, or a gesture, can represent something else, such as an object, a feeling, or an idea. It facilitates the ever-so-important understanding of the given occurrence rather than committing it purely to memory. In the world of a 0–5-year-old, this “symbolic leap” of understanding is the single most important cognitive milestone.
Of course, learning a language or even more than one language is absolutely crucial for education. Here is how that viewpoint fits into early life education:
1. From Concrete to Abstract
Infants live in a “concrete” world: if they cannot see it or touch it, it does not exist. Early education helps them to move toward symbolic thought. When a toddler realises that the sound “ball” stands for that round, bouncy thing in the corner, they have decoded a symbol. Teachers and parents need to facilitate this by connecting physical objects to labels constantly. This is why “Show and Tell” is a staple of early education, as it gently compels the child to use symbols, words or actions to describe a tangible object to others, who might not even see it clearly.
2. The Multi-Modal Nature of Symbols
Because language is “symbolic,” it does not matter how exactly it is expressed. The human brain treats spoken words, written text, and sign language with similar neural machinery.
Many educators advocate the use of “Baby Signs” (simple gestures) before a child can speak. This is powerful because it proves the child has the thought (e.g., “I am hungry”) and can use a symbol like putting the hand to the mouth, before their vocal cords are physically ready to produce the word denoting hunger.
Writing is the most abstract symbol of all: it is a squiggle written on a page, representing a sound, which represents an idea or a thought. Early childhood education prepares children for this by encouraging “emergent writing” (scribbling), even where a child proudly points to a messy circle that the child has drawn and says, “This says ‘I love Mommy’.”
3. Symbolic Play (The Dress Rehearsal)
As recognised in many quarters, play is where this theory comes to life. Between ages 2 and 3, children enter the Symbolic Play stage. Often, there is object substitution, as when a child picks up a banana and holds it to his or her ear like a telephone. In effect, this is a massive intellectual achievement. The child is mentally “decoupling” the object from its physical reality and assigning it a symbolic meaning. In early education, we need to encourage this because if a child can use a block as a “car,” they are developing the mental flexibility required to later understand that the letter “C” stands for the sound of “K” as well.
4. Language as a Tool for “Internal Thought”
Perhaps the most fascinating fit is the work of psychologist Lev Vygotsky, who argued that language eventually turns inward to become private speech. Have you ever seen a 4-year-old talking to himself or herself while building a toy tower? “No, the big one goes here….. the red one goes here…. steady… there.” That is a form of self-regulation. Educators encourage this “thinking out loudly.” It is the way children use the symbol system of language to organise their own thoughts and solve problems. Eventually, this speech becomes silent as “inner thought.”
Finally, there is the charming thought of the feasibility of conversing with very young children in two or even three or more languages. In Sri Lanka, the three main languages are Sinhala, Tamil and English. There are questions asked as to whether it is OK to talk to little ones in all three languages or even in two, so that they would learn?
According to scientific authorities, the short, clear and unequivocal answer to that query is that not only is it “OK”, it is also a significant cognitive gift to a child.
In a trilingual environment like Sri Lanka, many parents worry that multiple languages will “confuse” a child or cause a “speech delay.” However, modern neuroscience has debunked these myths. The infant brain is perfectly capable of building three or even more separate “lexicons” (vocabularies) simultaneously.
Here is how the “symbolic expression of thought” works in a multilingual brain and how we can manage it effectively.
a). The “Multiple Labels” Phenomenon
In a monolingual home, a child learns one symbol for an object. For example, take the word “Apple.” In a Sri Lankan trilingual home, the child learns three symbols for that same thought:
* Apple (English)
* Apal
(Sinhala – ඇපල්)
* Appil
(Tamil – ஆப்பிள்)
Because the trilingual child learns that one “thought” can be expressed by multiple “symbols,” the child’s brain becomes more flexible. This is why bilingual and trilingual children often score higher on tasks involving “executive function”, meaning the ability to switch focus and solve complex problems.
b). Is there a “Delay”?
(The Common Myth)
One might notice that a child in a trilingual home may start to speak slightly later than a monolingual peer, or they might have a smaller vocabulary in each language at age two.
However, if one adds up the total number of words they know across all three languages, they are usually ahead of monolingual children. By age five, they typically catch up in all languages and possess a much more “plastic” and adaptable brain.
c). Strategies for Success: How to Do It?
To help the child’s brain organise these three symbol systems, it helps to have some “consistency.” Here are the two most effective methods:
* One Person, One Language (OPOL), the so-called “gold standard” for multilingual families.
Amma
speaks only Sinhala, while the Father speaks only English, and the Grandparents or Nanny speak only Tamil. The child learns to associate a specific language with a specific person. Their brain creates a “map”: “When I talk to Amma, I use these sounds; when I talk to Thaththa, I use those,” etc.
*
Situational/Contextual Learning. If the parents speak all three, one could divide languages by “environment”: English at the dinner table, Sinhala during play and bath time and Tamil when visiting relatives or at the market.
These, of course, need NOT be very rigid rules, but general guidance, applied judiciously and ever-so-kindly.
d). “Code-Mixing” is Normal
We need not be alarmed if a 3-year-old says something like: “Ammi, I want that palam (fruit).” This is called Code-Mixing. It is NOT a sign of confusion; it is a sign of efficiency. The child’s brain is searching for the quickest way to express a thought and grabs the most “available” word from their three language cupboards. As they get older, perhaps around age 4 or 5, they will naturally learn to separate them perfectly.
e). The “Sri Lankan Advantage”
Growing up trilingual in Sri Lanka provides a massive social and cognitive advantage.
For a start, there will be Cultural Empathy. Language actually carries culture. A child who speaks Sinhala, Tamil, and English can navigate all social spheres of the country quite effortlessly.
In addition, there are the benefits of a Phonetic Range. Sinhala and Tamil have many sounds that do not exist in English (and even vice versa). Learning these as a child wires the ears to hear and reproduce almost any human sound, making it much easier to learn more languages (like French or Japanese) later in life.
As an abiding thought, it is the considered opinion of the author that a trilingual Sri Lanka will go a long way towards the goals and display of racial harmony, respect for different ethnic groups, and unrivalled national coordination in our beautiful Motherland. Then it would become a utopian heaven, where all people, as just Sri Lankans, can live in admirable concordant synchrony, rather than as splintered clusters divided by ethnicity, language and culture.
A Helpful Summary Checklist for Parents
* Do Not Drop a Language:
If you stop speaking Tamil because you are worried about English, the child loses that “neural real estate.” Keep all three languages going.
* High-Quality Input:
Do not just use “commands” (Eat! Sleep!). Use the Parentese and Serve and Return methods (mentioned in an earlier article) in all the languages.
* Employ Patience:
If the little one mixes up some words, just model the right words and gently correct the sentence and present it to the child like a suggestion, without scolding or finding fault with him or her. The child will then learn effortlessly and without resentment or shame.
by Dr b. J. C. Perera
MBBS(Cey), DCH(Cey), DCH(Eng), MD(Paediatrics), MRCP(UK), FRCP(Edin), FRCP(Lond), FRCPCH(UK), FSLCPaed, FCCP, Hony.
FRCPCH(UK), Hony. FCGP(SL)
Specialist Consultant Paediatrician and Honorary Senior Fellow, Postgraduate Institute of Medicine, University of Colombo, Sri Lanka
Features
SIMPSON’S … set to carve a distinct sonic identity
It is, indeed, encouraging to see our local artistes working on new formats, where their music is concerned.
Variety is the spice of life, they say, and I do agree, especially when it comes to music.
Blending modern synth textures, ambient layers and soulful undertones, the group SIMPSON’S is set to carve a distinct sonic identity within Sri Lanka’s contemporary music landscape.
Their vision, they say, is not simply to produce songs, but to create emotional atmospheres – experiences that elevate, energise and resonate, both locally and beyond.
This four-piece outfit came into the scene, less than two years ago, and they are already making waves with their debut single ‘Balaporottuwak’ (Hope).
The song, I’m told, marks the beginning of a new sound, and at the forefront of ‘Balaporottuwak’ is the group’s lead vocalist and guitarist, Ryo Hera, who brings a rich cultural heritage to the stage.
As a professional Kandyan Wes dancer, Ryo’s commanding presence and textured vocals bring a distinct energy to the band’s sound.
‘Balaporottuwak’

Ryo Hera: Vocals for ‘Balaporottuwak’
is more than just a debut single – it’s a declaration of intent. The band is merging tradition and modernity, power and subtlety, to create a sound that’s both authentic and innovative.
With this song, SIMPSON’S is inviting listeners to join them on an evolving musical journey, one that’s built on vision and creativity.
The recording process for ‘Balaporottuwak’ was organic and instinctive, with the band shaping the song through live studio sessions.
Dileepa Liyanage, the keyboardist and composer, is the principal sound mind behind SIMPSON’S.
With experience spanning background scores, commercial projects, cinematic themes and jingles across multiple genres, Dileepa brings structural finesse and atmospheric depth to the band’s arrangements.
He described the recording process of ‘Balaporottuwak’ as organic and instinctive: “When Ryo Hera opens his voice, it becomes effortless to shape it into any musical colour. The tone naturally adapts.”
The band’s lineup includes Buddhima Chalanu on bass, and Savidya Yasaru on drums, and, together, they create a sound that’s not just a reflection of their individual talents, but a collective vision.

Dileepa Liyanage: Brings
structural finesse and
atmospheric depth to the
band’s arrangements
What sets SIMPSON’S apart is their decision to keep the production in-house – mixing and mastering the song themselves. This allows them to maintain their unique sound and artistic autonomy.
“We work as a family and each member is given the freedom to work out his music on the instruments he handles and then, in the studio, we put everything together,” said Dileepa, adding that their goal is to release an album, made up of Sinhala and English songs.
Steering this creative core is manager Mangala Samarajeewa, whose early career included managing various international artistes. His guidance has positioned SIMPSON’S not merely as a performing unit, but as a carefully envisioned project – one aimed at expanding Sri Lanka’s contemporary music vocabulary.
SIMPSON’S are quite active in the scene here, performing, on a regular basis, at popular venues in Colombo, and down south, as well.
They are also seen, and heard, on Spotify, TikTok, Apple Music, iTunes, and Deezer.
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