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Ye Olde Resthouses

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Polonnaruwa Rest House by Nihal Fernando/Studio Times Pvt Ltd

A couple of Sundays ago, Gamini Peiris of Moratuwa wrote a letter to the editor of the Sunday Island, about resthouses and noted: “I write this brief note hoping for a response from some readers.” Dr. R P Fernando from Epsom, UK, responded with his opinion titled Long ago British residents of Colombo also loved resthouses and went on to quote lawyer Brook Eliot in his book Real Ceylon. Having been to many of the old, real resthouses with siblings and in-laws given to traveling around, and a husband who was forever planning holidays, I decided to take up the invitation to reminisce.

General

Resthouses (RH) were set up and maintained for the benefit of colonial administrators beginning from the Dutch period to accommodate officers who travelled around. During British rule, they were improved and added to so that the entire island from Dondra to KKS, from the west to the east was dotted with these convenient stay over places. Resthouses gave administrators board and lodging during their ‘circuits’ – so named inspection tours or administrative visitations to remoter parts of their province or district.

Garnered from an article in the Sunday Times of November 7, 2010, by Royston Ellis are the following facts: according to the AA handbook of 1950, 110 RHs dotted the land. The Ceylon Tourist Board in 1986 listed 133. The oldest building was of the Tangalle RH which was a Dutch administrator’s bungalow – 1774; the oldest being Ambepussa RH, built 1820-31 while Captain Dawson was having the Kandy-Colombo road constructed.

Subsequently, RHs became available for booking by the general public and progressed to being popular places for holidaying. Parallel to RHs were a lesser breed of stayovers for administrators named circuit bungalows. Many government departments ran their own circuit bungalows, which too soon became available as holiday resorts, first with the relevant government officer accompanying and later, booked by him. E.g. The circuit bungalow of the Salt Corporation Hambantota, and the Cashew Corporation bungalow on stilts right on a stretch of deserted beach in Mankulum. No more – destroyed during the civil war.

A significant general feature of RHs of then was hospitality; you were made welcome with old world charm and graciousness. The RH Keeper, as the manager was named, was usually elderly and clad in white sarong and shirt. It was he who served at table as few were then stayers. Evening saw government officials of the area coming in for a mite of socializing over a glass or two of that which cheers. Meals were always suited to the Sri Lankan palate with the inevitable pol sambal, fried dry chillies and in most, dessert being genuine curd and treacle. Genuine in the sense the curd was from buffalo or cow milk, not powdered milk, as much of the curd now available is. Often milk powder used is past its time of shelf life. The Tissamaharama RH served excellent meals and curd too. Hambanbtota was known for its fresh seer fish dishes.

RHs were graded in clients’ minds according to poshness, amenities, accommodation offered. The Peradeniya RH, opposite the Gardens, was exclusive when I was a child in Kandy. Visitors were usually white planters or top government officers who also used it as a resting place between games of golf in the adjoining course. Then it opened its wide verandah to anyone, becoming in the 1960s my atomic family’s holiday resort when visiting Kandy – preferring to live here than in a relative’s home.

At that time there were not many hotels or resorts in Kandy apart from Queen’s and Suisse hotels. That wonderfully open and hospitable RH was transferred from the government to the Hotels Cooperation (I believe) and then to a private investor who has closed the entire structure, made it two storeyed. About a year ago, lunching there after hours spent in the Gardens, was claustrophobic: closed windows and drawn thick curtains in its dining area on the upper floor shutting out view of trees. Denigration and desecration.

Prime RHs and very popular of say 50 years and more ago were the Nuwarawewa and Tisawewa at Anuradhapura; the one jutting into the Parakrama Samudra at Polonnaruwa; Kalawewa, also with its sitting area above the wewa; Belihuloya, Tissamaharama, Hambantota, Ella and Kankesanturai. Belihuloya was quite a honeymooners’ place while Hambantota was for sea paddlers and swimmers. I particularly loved this place as it was adjacent to the old court house where Leonard Woolf gazed on one side on the blue ocean and on the other on the stretches of forest. Maybe he conceived the plot of his novel Village in the Jungle, translated to Badde Gama, while hearing cases and becoming more disillusioned with British colonial rule in the early decade of the 20th century.

Smaller RHs were used for lunch en route on holiday or for a cup of tea and always to ease oneself. I well remember the quaint building in Tanamalwila; Matara where one stopped over to bathe in the calm sea of Polhena and then have lunch. It was bang beside the busy Colombo road and nothing more than a convenience. Remembered is a long trip with my sister’s family and a friend of theirs starting at Hambantota and driving along the south east coast, stropping over at the Sinnamuttuwaram and Vakarai resthouses which were right up against the sea.

Destination was Trincomalee which necessitated the driving of the two cars onto a large ferry, standing on it and then stepping out on the other bank of the river we had just crossed. We negotiated seven such. The last was the Mahaveli – very wide and with a strong current. The ferry was attached to a strong metal cable that was drawn across the river and so the ferry crossed the river – chained.

Change

Like all else RHs too were subject to change, for the better in most cases but some drastically in their very nature and ambience. They became resorts, changed ownership and took on fancy names. Many had cloth and jacket dressed young girls charmingly manning front desks. Two rest houses exemplify this transformation.

The Nuwarawewa Rest House was a five-room property when it was declared open in 1957. A plaque at the entrance announces declaration was by Prime Minister S W R D Bandaranaike.

It was handed over to Quickshaws for management in 1967 and was gradually expanded to a 70 room hotel, which after a major refurbishment was named Lakeside at Nuwarawewa. My penchant for staying at the Nuwarawewa Hotel continued with small groups of family members and friends. In around the 2000s we found it wanting; not up to the mark in the condition of its rooms, so we stayed elsewhere. Still faithful to RHs, a son and I stayed at the refurbished Quickshaws’ Sanctuary Tisawewa with its ancient but well maintained buggy cart parked in the entrance, long verandahs and high beds with mosquito nets.

Fortunately, Lakeside Hotel Nuwarawewa returned to its old charm and amenities. It retained its entrance verandah, the high roof, the outside sitting area. The rooms and toilets were redone, so also the dining and sitting areas. What remained unchanged was the hospitality offered, the attention and genuine concern shown by the older staff members. Nuwarawewa Resthouse or Hotel has an unchanged perennial added attraction – the proximity to the Nuwarawewa and the ease with which one gets on the bund to walk along, enjoying particularly the view of Mihintale with the white dagoba etched against the changing sky with varying cloud formations and colour tints at dawn and dusk.

Tisawewa Resthouse began life as the stately Grand Hotel Anuradhapura, built by the British Colonial Government in 1907. Later it became the Tisawewa Resthouse, then the Tisawewa Grand, and most recently after a major refurbishment in 2005 in its 11 acre garden, it named itself The Sanctuary Tisawewa. It was managed by Quickshaws since 1967. I am not sure who manages it now.

“With histories of more than 120 years and 70 years respectively, Tisawewa and Nuwarawewa resthouses were for a long period the only graded accommodation in Anuradhapura, and remain today two of the most sought after. Between them, they count many distinguished guests: Queen Elizabeth, Lee Kuan Yew, Zia Ul Haq and Moraji Desai as Heads of State.

John Ruskin wrote: “We require from buildings two kinds of goodness: first, doing their practical duty well; then that they be graceful and pleasing in doing it.” Our resthouses fit Ruskin’s requirements well, particularly when we add “and the people who manage them”



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Combining local resources,traditional knowledge and science to build a food-secure Sri Lanka

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World Food Day 2026: Innovating today for a better food future

by Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara

What will be on the Sri Lankan dinner table ten years from now? Will our children be able to get nutritious food at a price their families can afford? Will farmers be able to grow enough despite changing weather and rising costs? And how much of the food we produce will actually reach the consumer, instead of being lost or wasted along the way?

These questions can’t wait. A farmer faces unpredictable weather. A family faces rising food costs. Fruit goes unsold after a good harvest. Some children do not get enough nutrition. The future of food is tied to the future of Sri Lanka itself.

World Food Day 2026 is a chance to look beyond the immediate problems and ask whether we can build a food system that feeds our people well, gives farmers better opportunities, protects the environment and makes better use of what we already have. The answer can be yes, but we will have to think differently.

We are not starting from zero. Sri Lanka has diverse crops, fisheries, traditional food knowledge, indigenous varieties, research institutions, universities and a young generation able to create new solutions. What we need is to bring these together and act. Producing more will not secure our food future on its own. It will depend on how intelligently we produce, process, preserve, distribute and consume food.

Making more of what we already have

Innovation does not always mean inventing something new. Often it means finding better uses for the resources we have.

Sri Lanka grows traditional rice varieties, kurakkan, green gram, cowpea, jackfruit, breadfruit, cassava, sweet potato, coconut and palmyrah. All of them have great potential for modern, nutritious, value-added foods. Jackfruit and breadfruit can be made into flour and other convenient products. Traditional rice varieties can go into new foods that suit changing consumer needs. Palmyrah, with its strong cultural heritage, can create new income through better processing, packaging, quality assurance and market development.

The aim is to connect our traditional food knowledge with modern consumer needs and technology, while keeping our food heritage.

Stop wasting the food we produce

Reducing food loss and waste should be a major priority. Seasonal fruits such as mango, banana, papaya and pineapple can be lost in large quantities when production exceeds demand or when storage, transport and processing facilities are inadequate. With suitable technology, these fruits can become dried products, pulps, powders, beverages and other shelf-stable foods.

Agricultural and fisheries by-products are resources too. They could be turned into food ingredients, animal feed, bio-based products and other useful materials, which would move us toward a more circular food economy.

Technology alone is not enough. We need stronger local processing facilities, cold storage, efficient transport, collection centres and market information systems, especially close to where food is produced. Cutting food loss raises the value of what our farmers and fishers already produce.

Nutrition and food safety come first

Food security means more than having enough food. People also need food that is safe and nutritious.

Sri Lanka can develop affordable, nutritious foods from local pulses, grains, vegetables, fruits and fish. Children and other vulnerable groups should get particular attention. Schoolchildren in particular deserve a focus: safe, nutritious, locally sourced products for school feeding programs would support child nutrition, local farmers and domestic food industries at the same time.

Food safety must stay at the centre of food innovation. Good hygiene, quality control, laboratory testing, traceability and appropriate food safety systems are what make new products safe as well as attractive and nutritious.

A food system that can cope with climate change

Climate change is already affecting agricultural production, water availability, crop yields and food prices. We need food systems that can handle changing conditions. That means climate-resilient crops, efficient water use, soil and water conservation, better storage and resource-efficient food processing.

Traditional knowledge matters here. Generations of Sri Lankan farmers have developed practices suited to local climates and ecosystems. Combining that experience with modern science can give us solutions that fit local conditions and are sustainable. Technology alone will not build the future of food. Science, experience and local knowledge together can.

Give young people a bigger role

Sri Lanka’s universities have an important part to play in shaping our food future. Young people should be encouraged to identify real problems in the food system and work on practical solutions in areas such as food waste, sustainable packaging, nutrition, food safety, modernising traditional foods and digital technologies.

A good research project should not always end as a research paper. Where appropriate, research should be supported to move on to products, technologies, enterprises and community solutions. That needs stronger partnerships between universities and industry, along with mentoring, research funding, business support and market connections. If young researchers and entrepreneurs can turn their ideas into viable food innovations, both consumers and producers will benefit.

A pathway designed for Sri Lanka

We do not need to copy food-system models from other countries. We can build a pathway that suits our own resources, culture and needs. It would bring together local resources, traditional knowledge, scientific research, appropriate technology and entrepreneurship, with farmers, fishers, universities, research institutions, food industries, entrepreneurs and policymakers working side by side.

The goal goes beyond selling raw materials. We need to create more value, reduce waste, improve nutrition, generate jobs and strengthen rural livelihoods. This matters especially for small and medium-scale food enterprises, which can drive local economic development when they get the right technical, financial and market support.

The choices we make today

The food future will not create itself. It will be shaped by what we grow, what we research, what we process, what we consume and what we choose not to waste.

So, the question for World Food Day 2026 is this: what can we do today so that every Sri Lankan has safe, nutritious, affordable and sustainable food tomorrow?

The answers are already around us, in our farms, fisheries, food businesses, universities, laboratories and communities. We have the resources, the traditional knowledge, the scientific expertise and talented young people. What we need now is to connect them and act.

A better food future begins with the choices we make today.

Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara

Senior Lecturer, Department of Biosystems Technology, Faculty of Technology, University of Ruhuna

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20th Anniversary of Digampathana blast – the day Sri Lanka Navy cried

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Aftermath of the terror attack

By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defence Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan

The Digampathana suicide truck attack on 16th October 2006 remains the deadliest single strike in Sri Lanka Navy history, leaving scars that time cannot erase.

It was a seemingly ordinary Monday morning on 16 October 2006, but the calm of that day would soon be shattered in a way none of us could have imagined. As the Commandant of the Naval and Maritime Academy and Flag Officer Commanding Naval Fleet at Trincomalee, I was aware that a number of my cadets were travelling that morning, part of a convoy of fifteen buses carrying naval personnel from Trincomalee, Colombo, and other bases, heading toward Dambulla to rendezvous with another group. The convoy also included trucks and escort vehicles, a routine movement planned and coordinated with the army to ensure the roads were clear. The morning started quietly. Some personnel greeted friends, handed over their weapons, or strolled to a nearby tea shop. It all seemed so ordinary—too ordinary for what would come next.

Sri Lanka Navy sunk LTTE Ships carrying arms, ammunition and warlike materials thousand miles away from Sri Lanka in Indian Ocean in September and October 2007.

By late morning, both convoys had reached the small ground at Digampathana, near the Sigiriya junction, and personnel mingled briefly, unaware that a carefully orchestrated act of terror was waiting. Then, suddenly, an empty half-truck veered directly into the convoy. It exploded with a ferocity I can still recall as if it were yesterday. Nuts, bolts, and high explosives tore through the air. Pandemonium erupted instantly. I later learned that 107 of our naval personnel were killed on the spot and another 153 critically injured. The scene was indescribable—bodies scattered, vehicles mangled, personal effects strewn across the ground. I remember later hearing that the head of the suicide bomber was recovered more than 100 meters away from the blast, a grim testament to the sheer force of the explosion.

I was in my office at the Naval and Maritime Academy when my mobile phone rang. A young midshipman from the 21st intake called, his voice trembling: “Sir, there was a huge explosion at the convoy point! Many are dead … my batch mate Wijesundara is among them.” I immediately jumped into my jeep with my escort Chief Petty Officer and driver and rushed to Digampathana, relying on every ounce of my driving skill to reach the scene. The journey, which usually took little more than an hour, felt endless that day, each passing mile weighed down by dread.

When I arrived, I was confronted with a sight that no training can prepare you for. The injured were being rushed to Dambulla Hospital, where doctors and nurses worked tirelessly, improvising in ways that saved lives despite the overwhelming chaos. I went back to the site after visiting the hospital. The remains of our naval personnel were scattered across the ground, and someone had begun collecting weapons and protective gear. I immediately contacted Surgeon Rear Admiral Nico Jayasekara and received his instructions: collect all body parts in separate bags and transport them to the Trincomalee Naval Hospital mortuary. This gruesome work had to be done with care and dignity, and it filled the icebox in my vehicle. Through DNA testing initiated by Rear Admiral Nico, we were able to identify every naval personnel lost that day, bringing some closure to grieving families.

The Navy Commander at the time, Vice Admiral Wasantha Karannagoda, was devastated. I had worked closely with him and knew how deeply he cared for his men. He ensured that the fallen were honoured with full ceremonial naval funerals at Welisara Naval Base, attended by families and comrades. Sixty-seven funerals were conducted in a single day—a number that still haunts me.

The Digampathana attack remains the largest single loss of naval life in our history. It was a day of sorrow, but also a day that reinforced our resolve. The tragedy galvanized the Navy to target the LTTE Sea Tiger wing with renewed determination and reshaped our maritime operations forever. Every time I think of that day, I remember not just the lives lost, but the courage, professionalism, and dedication of those who survived, those who treated the injured, and those who ensured the fallen were honored properly. May the souls of our naval hero’s rest in peace, their sacrifice guiding us and inspiring generations of naval personnel to come.

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‘Murder at Whitby Abbey’

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Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 24

I was intrigued by the title of a book I found in a book drop at the condominium of a friend, Murder at Whitby Abbey, and I brought it home with me though I will not be able to return it in the near future. It was described on the cover page as ‘a standout in the crowded medieval mystery field’, though I fear I do not know of other books in this field, apart from the Cadfael series, which I have dealt with earlier.

The book, by Cassandra Clark, is set during the reign of Richard II and has as a backdrop his precarious position, which led to his being replaced, and murdered, by his cousin Henry, who reigned as Henry IV. It is a gloomy book, the action taking place in the twelve days of Christmas leading up to the Epiphany. And the gloom is pervasive, even though this is supposed to be a time of festivity, with mummers performing, and many of those in the guest house where the heroine stays going to town to enjoy themselves, with much drinking and much music, which also fills the guesthouse.

The heroine Hildegarde is a nun, sent to try to acquire a relic being sold by Whitby Abbey, though this was also a penance set by the Abbot of the monastery that governed her abbess because she had had sex with a man. Soon after she and her companions reach the Abbey set high on a cliff, she finds that there are other bidders, and soon suspects that the hierarchy, not perhaps the Abbot who seems a weakling, but his rapacious bursar, is determined to make money, and not above creating false relics to sell to several aspirants.

After Hildegarde and her Cistercian companions – Whitby is a Benedictine Foundation – two monks, Gregory and Egbert, and a young priest Mark, reach the abbey, they find that Aelwyn, a monk they had met on their way to the guesthouse had died. This was in the apple store, and they realize, when they find the surplices of novices stuffed into the air vents, that he had been left to suffocate in the overwhelming scent of apples.

Clark

The Cistercians are asked to look into the death, perhaps because they are likely to get no cooperation from the Abbey folk, but perhaps because those in charge are keen to know what happened. And the infirmarer, an old monk, suggests Hildegarde talk to a man called Edred who worked for the bursar, and had been a friend of Aelwyn’s. But Edred too is killed, before he can keep an appointment he had made with Hildegarde, drowned in a pool near the farmhouse of the Abbey.

Meanwhile tensions arise between the fisherfolk and the abbey for the bursar wants to charge them for using the beach that technically belongs to the abbey to dry their fish and their nets. This leads to physical battles, when the guards used by the abbey, under the command it seems of the bursar whose determination to make money is not resisted by the abbot and the prior, try to storm the area where the fishermen live.

Hildegard finds out more about what had happened through two youngsters, one of whom Torold is the son of Aelwyn by a woman who worked as a prostitute for a cartel, and with whom Mark fell in love. The other works on the farm and had seen Edred meet someone near the pool, after which that someone left the place by himself. And the boy had also found in the pool a sort of dagger with the seal of the abbey.

He and his dog, and Torold who follows her, rescue Hildegarde from a man at arms who has waylaid her and tries to rape her earlier. Escaping into the abbey she was nearly been raped then by the bursar, but she managed to escape, in the process setting fire to him and the muniments room, which led, when he was rescued, to the discovery of a box with the money he said had been stolen, blame being cast on both Aelwyn and Edred.

Matters come to a head when the fisherfolk try to storm the abbey, being resisted by the men at arms stationed on the towers. But then Hildegarde realizes that behind the murders was the bursar’s clerk, whom she pursued to the cathedral. There is great drama then as she escapes from him when he tries to kill her, and then from the man at arms who had tried to both rape and kill her, but they both fall from the scaffolding she had climbed, the latter coming from a tower where he had been stationed.

Both of them think they run the rapacity of the abbey, the latter claiming to work for the nobles opposed to Richard, who is presented throughout the book as devoted to his subjects, not to power or money. But though the villains die, the bursar continues, having got over the hysteria the fire had caused and his acknowledgment then of guilt – and though the abbot and the prior seem less vicious, whether they will be able to assert themselves is questionable.

Before the climax, when the others in the guesthouse were leaving, Hildegarde found that two of them were in possession of the relic, for which they seem to have paid well. Hildegarde herself had made a derisory offer, but before she leaves the abbot gives her the relic, perhaps in gratitude for what she and her fellow Cistercians had discovered, the abbey having made as much money as it needed and more from the gullible other buyers.

Mark’s inamorata is saved from the stews because she moves in with Edred’s widow whom the bursar had thrown out of the rooms he occupied when her husband was found dead. Hildegarde had paid for lodgings, in a house run by the man who ran the brothels, but he had a kindly side and was going to finance them to make nets for the fishermen.

So, the Cistercians set off for their home as swiftly as they can to get there on the day of the Epiphany, having stopped en route to pray for King Richard whose birthday it was.

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