Features
40th Death Anniversary of Justin Wijayawardhana: Reminiscences of a bygone socio-political milieu
By Dr Upul Wijayawardhana
It was 14th January 1982. I, together with my family, was making slow progress from Colombo to Matara in the pre-expressway era, when we heard on the car radio, the noon news bulletin of SLBC announcing the death of my father. There were no mobile phones then for me to receive the sad news from the family. My sister Mali, the only other medic in the family, very kindly undertook the onerous task of looking after our father in the intimate environs of our traditional family home ‘Wijaya Giri”‘ in Godagama rather than allowing him to wither away on a hospital bed. Having visited my father a few days earlier and persuaded Mali against active treatment in an inevitable situation, I was not surprised to learn the end of his multifaceted life but was sad that I could not be there, holding his hand that penned millions of words, when he left this world after decades of selfless service.
Standing at the foot of the bed and looking at his majestic face darkened by death, I thought to myself, “What have I done, compared to what you achieved in so many spheres?” I am still reading about his unmatchable achievements and learning more and more about him from others who write about him. has taken 40 long years for me to pen this tribute although my admiration of him has grown exponentially over the years. In fact, I wondered whether I could be tarnishing his image posthumously by referring to him as a politician because he had so many other significant achievements. I am doing so purposefully to emphasis that our country was once blessed with politicians whose mission was to serve.
First to represent the UNP from Matara District
Communism took root in the Matara district because the leader of the Communist Party Dr S A Wickramasinghe was from there and also a very caring general practitioner. In fact, my father started social service in the early 1930s with Dr Wickramasinghe, forming the Matara Youth Society with him as secretary and Dr Wickramasinghe as the president. Although they parted ways due to ideological differences, they remained friends, and Dr W was gracious enough to offer him the nomination from the Communist Party on more than one occasion. In spite of certainty of success, my father refused and stood by the UNP. The Matara branch of the UNP proposed him as the candidate for the 1952 and 1956 general elections, but the hierarchy of the UNP parachuted outsiders encouraging caste-based politics.
In 1960, the UNP high-command was forced to relent and my father successfully contested Matara seat becoming the first UNP MP for Matara and the first to do so from the whole district. He was chosen to propose the vote of thanks to the throne speech of the Dudley Senanayake government enabling him to demonstrate his much-recognised oratory in the parliament too. His old friend, Dr W retorted cynically from the Opposition benches, “My good friend has made an excellent speech, as usual, but it may well be the funeral oration of this government”, which was prophetic! Unfortunately, my father lost in July, the seat he gained in March. One reason for the loss was malicious stories spread by his opponents alleging he had said, that he needed to wash the seat in the parliament before sitting on it. I know well this was more hurtful to him than losing the election as he was one of the pioneers in the South to stand against caste divisions. In fact, in early 1940s, when caste discrimination was rampant in the South, he organised, as the Secretary of the Matara branch, a Sinhala New Year Celebration which commenced with many from different castes eating Kiri Bath, sitting on mats with the leader of the Sinhala Maha Sabha, S W R D Bandaranaike.
S W R D’s offer
The SLFP government people elected in 1956 with high hopes also started faltering. Sensing the imminent danger, SWRD started planning a revamp. He wanted to go to the UN to display his masterful oratory and reconstitute the Cabinet on his return. He sent an emissary to my father with the offer of appointment to the Senate as the Junior Minister of Education straightaway to be made the Minister with the planned reshuffle. According to my mother, who overheard the conversation, he did not take even a second to refuse the offer.
Betrayal by UNP
Undaunted by the loss, my father continued to teach and do social work. The crossover of C P De Silva caused Mahanama Samaraweera to be nominated the UNP candidate for Matara. J R Jayewardene persuaded my father to contest the Kamburupitiya seat saying, “Justin, don’t worry. Even if you lose, we will look after you. After all, there is the Senate”. My father lost, the UNP forgot the promises, but he enabled my cousin, Chandrakaumara and my brother, Ranjan to represent that constituency subsequently.
George Rajapaksa once told me, “The UNP does not know how to treat the faithful, the best example being your father. If he had done for us what he did for the UNP, we would place him on a high pedestal”.
Even during his era, my father perhaps was too soft and remained with the UNP till his death. Would any other person have refused such offers?
Maybe, to overcome their guilt, the UNP government issued a stamp in the memory of my father in 1990.
Teacher, par excellence
Born on 18 November 1904, Kotawila Withanage Don Charlis Justin Wijayawardhana attended the missionary school in the village before joining to St. Thomas College in Matara. Don Juvanis Wijayawardhana, a notary’s clerk, decided to send his son to Mahinda College, Galle in view of the brilliant performance of his son, Justin at the Junior School Certificate Examination. More than the easy success in the Cambridge Senior examination, what Mahinda College gave my father was the inspiration to fight for independence and the preservation of Buddhism. Though he could have got a more rewarding government position with his qualifications, he opted to be a teacher and joined Rahula College in Matara.
He contributed immensely to the upliftment of Rahula College by the renowned principal Mr D J Kumarage, to be one of the best schools in the country. Rahula was an assisted school, which meant only teachers’ salaries were paid by the government. To meet the increasing demand for admissions, my father went round with Mr Kumarage and persuaded philanthropists in the area to build four buildings which were ceremoniously opened by Prime Ministers DS, Dudley, Sir John and Sir Oliver, the Governor General.
In addition, he was in charge of Sinhala and English debating teams, Arts and Drama society. He wrote many plays for students to stage of which one stands out; Matara Batha, a comedy which was so hilarious, it is said that even Mr Kumarage, who seldom smiled, burst into laughter.
My father taught Buddhism, Sinhala and art. He taught me too and I managed to fail in art, the only subject that I have ever failed! After teaching and inspiring many generations of students, he retired in 1964 having devoted his entire teaching career to Rahula.
Social service
He was a live-wire of the co-operative movement and headed the village co-operative till a few years before his death. He masterminded village development projects like roads and culverts through the Village Development programme.
When Buddhism was threatened by a fanatic sect, Thapasa Nikaya and , defended Bhikkhus threatened by misguided villagers. With the support of Chandraratna Manawasinghe, who was on the editorial staff of Lankadeepa, my father was able to dispel the falsehoods, helping save Buddhism in Sri Lanka.
He reserved his best for Community Centres Praja Mandala, which were established in Matara and surrounding areas. They were the meeting places where villagers could listen to the radio for the very first time. He obtained radios from the government for these centres. Those huge primitive devices needed a massive aerial across the tallest of coconut trees to get a rattly short-wave reception and were powered by car batteries, needing a fortnightly replacement by the post office. When they got late, the radio fell silent and the whole village missed the ‘Radio bana’.
The crowning glory was the annual congress of Community Centres, which lasted a couple of days with many competitions; that was the only opportunity for people to display their talents, unlike today, when we have too many talent shows. One of the highlights was the Kavi Maduwa, the poet’s corner where reputed guest poets gave lectures, in addition to recitals. That was the biggest event in the cultural calendar of the South.
Pioneer translator and writer
A visit to India in the late 1930s changed my father’s life forever as he was able to meet the leaders of the Indian Independence Movement but the most important was his meeting Rabindranath Tagore, whose works he had already translated to Sinhala. He recalled with great fondness the unexpectedly long meeting wherein Tagore granted him permission to translate any of his works.
Sivumal Motagedara, who studied the life and literary works of my father for his research project for the M A degree from Colombo University, has published his dissertation “Justin Wijayawardhana: Jeewithya ha Sastriya Sevaya (Godage, ISBN 978-955-30-9644-9). He argues, very convincingly that it is a great injustice that Justin Wijayawardhana has not been accorded a much more prominent place in Sinhala literature and takes to task the academia for not doing so. He rates Justin Wijayawardhana as the pioneer translator who introduced the works not only of Eastern writers like Tagore but also Western writers like Leo Tolstoy, Hall Caine, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Walt Whitman and H G Wells to Sinhala readers. He also mentions Wijayawardhana’s ability to change the style of writing to fit the original for translation and contends that it is rare.
Perhaps, the main reason why my father’s writings have not received the attention it deserves is they were published in newspapers and magazines––not as books due to lack of facilities like agents for writers and the monopoly held by only a few publishers.
I know the great difficulties he had in getting his first book, “Nasthikara Puthraya”, the translation of Sir Hall Caine’s ‘The Prodigal Son’ published in 1964. He had to give up royalty for a tiny sum and the publisher did not even notify how many copies were sold!
Although he had many manuscripts ready, unfortunately, only two more books were published during his lifetime.
One was a translation of a book on the invasion of Tibet “Tibbethaye Bauddha Manava Sanharaya”, which was extensively used by the UNP during the 1965 election campaign. The other was “Tom Mamage Kutiya”, a translation Of Harriet Beecher Stowe’s masterpiece ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’, which was published by Marga in 1976.
The Ministry of Cultural Affairs, acceding to our request, published “Seeliyage Lokaya” in January 1983 to coincide with the first death anniversary and “Samawa Deema” in January 1984 to coincide with the second death anniversary. The latter, a collection of translations of ten short stories by Russian writers Leo Tolstoy, Maxim Gorky, Anton Chekhov and Hungarian writers Geza Gardonyi, Kalman Mikszath, Karoly Kisfaludy, was completed in September 1975 and dedicated to JRJ, the then leader of the Opposition. The dedication in my father’s handwriting, in his trademark violet ink, written with his beloved ‘Swan’ pen is reprinted in this book.
“Seeliyage Lokaya”
is an original work written in a novel genre. It is an exploration of village life, a synthesis of events and people in their respective villages of birth as seen by my parents. However, he has titled it ‘Seeliya’s world’, as he called my mother, Jinaseeli Jayawardana ‘Seeliya’ affectionately. The cover was drawn by my youngest brother Kamal. During one of my visits to President JRJ, when I presented a copy, he went through the chapter titles carefully and said “Upul, you must translate this to English as it is a mirror, showing the world what our village life is. It will be the opposite of ‘Grass for My Feet’ by J Vijayatunga”. I tried but, unfortunately, I do not seem to have inherited the translator gene!
The youngest of our six sisters, Champa is doing a tremendous job in keeping our father’s literary heritage going. She had been able to get “Nasthikara Putrya” and “Seeliyage Lokaya” republished. “Samawa Deema” has also been republished with a new title “Idama ha Thanhawa”. In addition, she has got the following in print: “Punarjeewanaya”, a translation of Leo Tolstoy’s ‘Resurrection, “Lo Pathala Keti Katha”, a collection of short stories by world famous authors including Tagore, Mulkraj Anand, Guy de Maupassant, Oscar Wild” and “Minis Angaharu Yuddaya”, a translation of H G Wells’ ‘War of the Worlds’.
‘Sai Baba: Man of Miracles’ by Howard Murphet was translated at the request of the Sai Baba Society, which was made in late 1974. Although my father finished the translation in a matter of two months, a unique achievement for a book running to 400 pages, it did not come out in print till a year after his death, in spite of Sai Baba’s blessings!
Matara C Justin Wijayawardhana started writing to Sinhala newspapers and magazines from his late teens and continued for six decades. In addition to articles on Buddhism and current affairs, there are many more translations that have been serialised. Champa is engaged in this monumental task of gathering them so that more books may be published.
Marriage
My father, who initially put service over marriage, changed his mind the moment he saw a new lady teacher who joined Rahula staff. The marriage of Justin Wijayawardhana and Jinaseeli Jayawardana from Ransegoda took place on 17 May 1940, during the biggest flood ever recorded in the Southern Province. We were under the impression that the bridegroom encountered the flooding on his way to the bride’s but two books by Hewamadduma brothers give a different story. The Hewamadduma family from Lenaduwa was one of the closest families to ours. Till his untimely death in 2013, Amare, the well-known administrator, historian and writer used to write regularly about my father. After that his younger brother Dharme has taken over. In Amare’s book “Amara Samara-1”, as well as his elder brother Upatissa’s book “Ma Dutu Maha Purushaya: Justin Wijayawardhana” give detailed accounts, as recounted by their father. Every time a flood occurred, their father Sinnno Appuhamy used to say, “This is nothing compared to the flooding when Wijayawardhana mahattaya got married” and had gone on to relate how my father directed the preparation of boats the previous evening and how they paddled the 15 miles in floodwaters and brought back the couple, disregarding all warnings, safely to Godagama at 3 am, the following day! Apparently, my father having settled the new bride in bed had gone immediately to help flood victims. That shows his character and that my mother was solidly behind him. By the way, Thilakasena Sahabandu, who was married to Hewamadduma sister Karuna, wrote a beautiful anthology of poems titled ‘Sevaye Suwanda (Fragrance of service) which helped a great deal in my father’s election victory.
Funeral
Unfortunately, what should have been Justin Wijayawardhana’s greatest legacy was not to be. Seeing how the poor got into difficulty with lavish funerals, he campaigned for simple funerals but his pleas fell on deaf ears. However, he ensured his funeral was simple and my mother did even better, ensuring that we handed over her body to the Galle Medical Faculty when she died on 24 February 1986.
Detailed written instructions were left about the funeral but true to his considered manner, he stated we could make changes if circumstances demanded. He also stated that if we felt bad for not spending on the funeral, to build a house for a poor family, which we did. The day after death, he was cremated in a coffin made from cheap wood and painted white, on a simple pyre made from locally collected wood. Though his voice was heard at almost every local funeral, he did not want funeral orations and as stipulated there was one anusasana. Although we did not inform any VIPs, Finance Minister Ronnie de Mel turned up and as he was representing the government, we allowed him to speak. The only thing beyond our control was the massive crowd.
As we watched, a great man who had rendered selfless service for almost eight decades, gradually turned into ashes. As requested, his ashes were thrown in Nilawala Ganga.
May he attain the supreme bliss of Nibbana!
by Dr. Anushka Kahandagamage
Last week began with the disturbing news of a brutal sexual assault on a female doctor at the Anuradhapura Hospital. From the moment of birth, women are taught to conform to societal expectations of how they should dress and behave, which shapes their sense of vulnerability. This feeling of being at risk knows no boundaries—whether it’s social status, wealth, or education, women experience it universally. It follows them everywhere, day and night. Even in the presence of men who consider themselves progressive, women still feel unsafe. Ideological beliefs or personal views don’t change this reality—women are constantly exposed to the threat of harm. Even when fully covered, from head to toe, they are not immune. In Western societies, which pride themselves on freedom and equality, women still face fear and danger. Vulnerability persists, even in their own homes or among those closest to them.
In a country like Sri Lanka, ravaged by decades of war, the pressure on women is even more intense. This is largely due to the celebration of military masculinities as the norm. In general, masculinity constantly tries to distance itself from femininity. These divisions are deepened by military models. To be seen as a ‘real man,’ one must embody military traits. This doesn’t necessarily mean being part of an official army or wearing a uniform; rather, any man who adopts characteristics like violence and physical risk-taking aligns with this military masculinity model. Nearly thirty years of war have normalised and solidified these military ideals, glorifying them more than ever. In such a society, women are subjected to and oppressed by these restrictive and harmful models of masculinity.
Men’s Unions
Referring back to the unfortunate incident involving the doctor, the Government Medical Officers’ Association (GMOA) organised a symbolic strike in protest. While it’s important to acknowledge their support for their female colleague, the issue is not solved by the strike itself or by the reactive nature of professional actions that only address problems after they have occurred. The GMOA has two presidents, four vice presidents, six assistant secretaries, a treasurer, an editor, two assistant editors, and thirty-five committee members, making a total of 51 office-bearers. Of these, only one committee member is a woman, meaning 50 of the board members are men. Meanwhile, the ratio of women to men in the medical community is roughly equal, and the number of female medical students is increasing, surpassing that of male students. In this context, the lack of female representation in the GMOA is deeply concerning.
Some may argue that it is the fault of female doctors for not running for these positions, but the real reason women avoid trade union politics is that these spaces are often unwelcoming. Women’s voices are suppressed and ignored, and many women do not feel these environments are safe or inclusive. The overwhelming male presence discourages women from participating, which is why they remain underrepresented in these spaces.
As a result, the specific challenges, insecurities, and forms of marginalisation faced by female doctors are not addressed within the trade union politics of doctors. These issues are never recognised as professional concerns. The troubling incident in Anuradhapura is not an isolated case; it is part of a broader pattern of difficulties faced by female doctors, with these issues going unheard by higher authorities. Therefore, instead of reacting after an incident occurs, the GMOA—currently shaped by political agendas—should take steps to create long-term solutions to address the problems of female doctors and bring them to the attention of the government. One key step would be to create a space within the GMOA where women can contribute their ideas and share their concerns. Rather than maintaining trade unions dominated by male professionals, unions should be established that include women’s voices as well. A platform should be created where women can actively engage in politics and contribute to shaping the future of the profession.
Women’s Unions
Additionally, the female doctor has the opportunity to speak up for herself due to her professional status. But what about the women who come from humble backgrounds? Do they have a platform to raise their voices regarding their troubles? Women’s voices should never be defined by their social class, status, or profession. A woman picking tea leaves in a garden may face harassment from someone more powerful and influential, yet this common form of abuse often goes unnoticed by society.
She may choose silence to protect her job. Similarly, a woman working the night shift in a garment factory may have to endure harassment and abuse without a chance to speak out. Many women in this country lack the platform a high-ranking professional woman has to raise their voices when they experience such mistreatment. This doesn’t mean that the problems faced by high-ranking professional women should be dismissed. On the contrary, it highlights that all women are equally ensnared by the economic, political, and patriarchal systems that dominate society. We all, to varying degrees, participate in upholding these oppressive social, political, economic, and military patriarchal structures. The crucial task is to identify these oppressive models and create counter-narratives that can challenge and dismantle them.
Models and narratives that perpetuate gender inequality need to be challenged and dismantled, and women’s active participation in politics is crucial in this process. These models, which often portray women as passive or secondary, limit their agency and reinforce systemic discrimination. To break free from these constraints, it is essential to create counter-narratives that highlight women’s leadership, resilience, and power. These counter-narratives not only challenge existing stereotypes but also empower future generations to believe in their ability to shape society.
Women’s participation in politics is vital to this shift. However, political engagement goes far beyond traditional party politics. It involves advocating for one’s rights, raising a voice for the marginalised, and sharing personal and collective stories that highlight the struggles women face. This form of political engagement helps to create awareness, foster solidarity, and inspire action within broader society. For example, women’s involvement in activism and trade unions plays an equally crucial role in challenging the status quo. Activism allows women to directly confront and protest against systemic injustices, while trade unions provide a platform for collective bargaining and the fight for fair working conditions.
Maybe Cassandra is small-minded venturing to the world stage to air her personal opinions. But opinions are allowed and speech and writing permitted in this island of ours now mercifully peaceful. So, she will air her views.
Opinions on the Trump-Zelensky confrontation
Cass cheers President Zelensky after his February 28 meeting with President Trump in a media crowded Oval Office. He was put down, nay, insulted by Trump and his Vice President. He admirably held his own and did not apologise even though he was shown the door.
Zelensky but were tactful. After all, good relations with one of the two largest, most powerful and economically elevated countries had to be maintained. They did not fault Zelensky, who offered no apology to the Prez of the US. After all, the insults heaped on him for his dress, his not being grateful to Trump, etc., he was shown the door. The outcome of negotiations between the US and Ukraine brokered by the Head of Saudi Arabia are still to be known.
Not so muted were the replies to Prez Trump (actually to Musk, who seems to be the puppeteer in the White House) regards his unreasonable tariffs, the latest on metal and steel products imported to the US. PM Justin Trudeau was outspoken about the unfairness of the tariffs and replied Canada was also doing likewise and added the corollary that never would Canada be a state of the US. Even the likes of Cassandra were shocked at the audacity of Musk to even suggest such a monstrously absurd idea.
In favour of Trump
A Sri Lankan, now a US citizen, mentioned how many ex-Sri Lankans, now Americans, are of the Republican Party and so must be approving of Trump as Prez. They are, she added, the rich ex-Sri Lankans, mostly doctors who have done very well in the US.
Of course, everyone and anyone is free in their choices. Dr Upul Wijayawardhana in his article What not to do in The Island of Wednesday March 12 writes: “I must say that I quite like Trump and admire him as a straight-talking politician. He keeps to his words however atrocious they sound! Unfortunately, most critics overlook the fact that what Trump is doing is exactly what he pledged during his election campaign …”
As Cassandra wrote earlier, all are free to make choices. Dr W is brave to declare his admiration for a politico who is being disapproved of universally. What Cass does not agree with is Dr W, while saying “the behaviour of Trump and VP Vance were hardly praiseworthy”, he censors the smaller nation Ukrainian: “but Zelensky did what exactly he should not do. After all, he was on a begging mission and beggars can’t be choosers! He behaves like professional beggars in Colombo who throw money back when you give a small amount!” Cass disagrees with Dr W. Zelensky was on a visit to sign an agreement for the US to exploit Ukraine’s mineral deposits; tied up with aid and arms to war against Russia but not on a begging mission per se. And they were both Presidents so there cannot be superiority at such a meeting.
Banker to Prime Minister
Looks very much like Canada is girding up its loins to fight an aggressive USA or rather the combination of Donald Trump and Elon Musk. Justin Trudeau has given notice he wishes to relinquish his premiership to spend more time with his family. And, his and the Liberal Party’s choice to vote as leader of the Party and thus PM designate is an ex-banker. No intelligence is needed to guess why this choice. To counter the trade and tariff wars instigated by Trump.
The Liberal Party of Canada, founded in 1867, is the longest serving and oldest active federal political party and had dominated federal politics in Canada for much of its history, holding power for almost 70 years in the last century. Pierre Trudeau’s name stands out as Party Leader and PM from 1968 to 79 and 1980 to 84. Son Justin held power from 2015. From March 14, 2025, Mark Carney will hold the fort, mostly against the economically conquering and property eyeing Trump.
Born in 1965 in Fort Smith, Northwest Territories, Carney was raised in Edmonton, Alberta. He graduated in economics from Harvard University in 1988 and earned a Master’s degree and doctorate from the University of Oxford in 1993 and ‘95. After holding various positions at Goldman Sachs, he joined the Bank of Canada as Deputy Governor in 2003. The next year he was named senior associate deputy minister for the Department of Finance Canada. He was head of the Canadian Central Bank until 2013, after which he was appointed Governor of the Bank of England, leading it through Brexit and the Covid lockdown. He left in 2020.
Listening to a couple of videos of his acceptance speech as Leader, Liberal Party, he appeared to be of statesman quality. He is married to Diana Fox, an economist he met in London. They have four daughters, the eldest an ardent environmentalist.
Farewell of Trudeau
Cass listened to a video recording of Justin Trudeau’s farewell address to the Liberal Party. It was noteworthy. His teenage daughter introduced him and said he had given his life to the Liberal Party and Canada and it was now important that he spend undivided time with his family of wife and three children
Justin Pierre James Trudeau was born in 1971 in Ottawa, the eldest son of Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau. Holds a BA degree in English from McGill University and a BEd from the University of British Columbia. He taught in secondary school until in 2008 he was elected an MP and in 2013 as leader of the Liberal Party and Prime Minister in 2015, the second youngest PM in Canadian history.
As Cass mentioned, his farewell speech was excellent, speaking alternatively in French and English with French portions translated to English. He recalled all that Canada had achieved: true democracy and people’s rights, including women’s right to choose what they wanted in their lives. He said Canada could and would meet challenges, even fight for its sovereignty as Canadians, even the indigenous, united.
In conclusion, Cass surmises the world is still in uproar, in contrast to Sri Lanka. No, that is not true. Doctors are on strike as she writes, extending their one day of stoppage of work, demanding greater protection for women medical personnel. Good demand but bad to strike.
And the Batalanda problem surfaces itself.
By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP& Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc (Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defense Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan
(Extract from book “THOSE WERE THE DAY”)
It was in 1984, 41 years ago, that I returned to Sri Lanka, from India, after completing my Sub Lieutenant Technical course. My new appointment was at the Northern Naval Command and I was based in SLNS Elara shore establishment, in Karainagar.
Six batchmates of mine were also transferred to the North. It was in mid-1984. I now feel that transferring seven batchmates—boisterous Sub Lieutenants—was a very big mistake on the part of the Navy. We had just completed three and a half years in service. Whatever the situation, our parties went on till late at night. Thanks to the Indian food, which we ate for nine months, all of us were very thin.
It is believed that if you want to gain weight you have to drink toddy from the same palm, every day, before lunch. So, we owned one palm each at the Karainagar base. Our toddy tapper, Kandaiah, was paid 30 rupees every month (one rupee per day per one bottle). Kandaiah will mark our bottles and hand them over to the Officers Mess steward to keep them in the refrigerator. (The Navy Officers Mess is called the Ward Room in the Navy parlance). The Naval base in Karinagar, followed the “summer routine” due to the very hot weather in Jaffna. The working hours were from 07.30 hrs to 13.30 hrs. We gathered for lunch around 14.30 hrs, after all the senior officers had left. First, the bottle of fresh chilled Thal toddy, then delicious Navy lunch with sea food or mutton, followed by fruit salad or caramel pudding.
After our heavy lunch, we will rest for one hour in very warm weather and then go to the basketball or tennis courts by 16.00 hrs. Games would go on till sunset. Whether we gained weight that way is a moot question. Soon our ‘Christmas’ came to an end. We were detailed to ‘Mothership-daughter craft operation’. Seven sub-Lieutenants were in Command of seven boats, fiberglass dinghies (FGDs) fitted with 40 HP Out Board Motors. (OBMs). They move faster than fishing boats and our mission was to be attached to bigger ships (Gunboat, OPV or to trawler A521 ) and chase away any Indian bottom trawlers poaching in Sri Lankan waters and catch any smuggling or terrorist boat coming from India. Terrorists camps were situated in the Tamilnadu coast at that time. On 1 July 1984, (Sunday), my crew consisting of three junior sailors were due to proceed to sea. Senior most among my sailors was Leading Seaman Hibutugoda with eight years’ experience in the Navy. Able Seaman Buddhakorale, Marine Engineering Mechanic Bandara and I had been in service for less than four years. I was leading this young boat crew to action. During the daily briefing, I was told our boat was to join SLNS Jayasagara. (Offshore Patrol Vessel) anchored off Kachchativu on the Indo-Sri Lanka International Maritime Boundary Line (IMBL) by afternoon.
It was a fairly long sea journey for an FGB fitted with 40HP OBM. But that is how we started fighting terrorists out at sea in 1984!
We left the Karainagar base soon after breakfast at 07.00 hrs and reached Nainativu (Nagadeepa temple) pier by 09.30 hrs. I met Podi Hamudruwo, (a young priest) who was my close friend and worshipped the place, which the Buddha visited. Then we had tea at our Naval Detachment and proceeded back to sea. It was the height of the South West monsoon and usually sea South of Delft Island was very rough during this period. The funnel effect of Delft channel further made the sea even more furious. Leading Seaman . suggested that we turn back and return to base due to rough seas. I was not in agreement. Young and enthusiastic, I was determined to intercept terrorist craft or a smuggling boat in my first patrol on a FGD. So, we continued at a slower speed heading towards SLNS Jayasagara. Our only Navigational aid was a boat magnetic compass. The sea was very rough. As per my calculations, we should reach Mothership (SLNS Jayasagara) by noon.
We packed all our weapons and radio set in polythene covers and kept them safely under the bow- locker of the boat. We were riding the head sea, which tossed our boat up and down like a rubber ball. By 13.00 hrs, I knew something was wrong. Mother ship was not in sight, which was unbelievable. Our efforts to contact mother ship by our 10 Watts radio Communication set was unsuccessful. When we sighted the tall radio mast of Danuskodi (India), we realised that we had come too far away from the Mothership. (Later, we learnt the Mothership had moved to the North of Delft Island due to rough seas and the Naval base at Karainagar had failed to inform them of our departure). We were in Indian waters! We immediately turned back to our reciprocal course and headed towards Nainativu, none of these Islands were within our sight. All our calculations were done on the basis of our speed, boat compass directions and a photocopy of the Northern area sea chart.
The situation took a turn for the worse. After we started heading towards Sri Lankan waters, the wind and the sea coming from the stern of the boat made the handling of the vessel on a steady course extremely difficult. After a few minutes, waves broke on to boat, which started sinking. We jumped off. Marine Engineering Mechanic Bandara held on to a lifejacket. Others were swimming in various directions. The boat disappeared in deep waters within a few minutes. Wooden floorboards of the boat were floating. I grabbed one wooden floorboard and gathered others around it.
Now we were all together. Bandara was a non-swimmer and he wore a life jacket. Others were in a state of shock, even though they could swim. What they saw around them was only the sea with no land in sight.
What about me? I am a good swimmer thanks to Late Master Chief Petty Officer (PTI) PPR Silva, who was our swimming instructor during our cadet time. Further, my training at Britannia Royal Naval College (BRNC), Dartmouth, UK, where Royal Navy takes ‘survival at sea’ training very seriously. They put you in a life raft and keep you out at river Dart for a whole night during winter. Midshipmen from Asian and African countries who did the International Midshipman Course at BRNC with me cursed the Royal Navy instructors the whole night for keeping us exposed to very cold weather in river Dart. I realised the importance of that training in BRNC. However, the situation there was different. We were on a liferaft in River Dart, and not floating in water. Due to the cold weather in the UK during winter, if you fall into water, you will survive only a few minutes. You will die of hypothermia. The situation here in warm Sri Lankan/Indian waters is different. We would survive a longer period, maybe 24 hours.
I ordered all the sailors to stay together by holding on to the floor board and reassured them that help would be forthcoming even though I knew it would take hours to both CO SLNS Jayasagara, my CO SLNS Elara and Commander Northern Naval Area to realise our boat was lost at sea and to initiate Search and Rescue (SAR) mission. Then, I ensured that Bandara was comfortable with his life jacket. I instructed my sailors to just hang on to the wooden floorboard, not to expend energy by trying to swim. My instructions and reassurance had a calming effect on the sailors. We were riding waves, holding onto the floorboards. I told my sailors that a rescue team would come searching for us before sunset. Time as per my waterproof watch was 14.00 hrs.
I had one fear. After returning from India a few weeks back, I watched Steven Spielberg’s award-winning film ‘Jaws’, on man-eating great white sharks. The film is based on Peter Benchley’s 1974 novel JAWS. I thought such a shark would appear and swallow one of us whole. Further I knew for sure that there were no man-eating Sharks in our waters, but silently prayed that sunset would come fast in the hope that sharks would not see us in the dark.
Thankfully, at sun set, we saw an SLAF Aircraft on the horizon. It was patrolling along the India-Sri Lanka IMBL. We were in the Indian waters. Our morale went down to the lowest with sunset. No search would be conducted at night because aircraft and ships/boats could not sight us. We had to keep going. I told the sailors, “The aircraft must have seen us, but as you know, help would not come at night. We should somehow survive till next morning July 2, 1984)”. Something told me I was hoping for the impossible.
I prayed that it would not be the last sunset I was watching. I thought of my parents, my brothers and sisters, especially my sister closest to me, Lalani. who would die in an accident in Russia two years later. She was so close to me and I was her hero in uniform. I was determined to live and keep my sailors alive till morning.
As soon as the sun set, the new moon rose. The new moon was in the waxing crescent phase with only 7% illumination. That meant we were heading for a very dark night. I started singing, joined by my sailors. Leading Seaman Hibutugoda grabbed the ‘mike’ from me. He is a very good singer. I regretted having disregarded his advice that we turn back at Nainativu. A wonderful sailor, he mentioned it again. I respect him even today for his discipline. They were “old school” sailors who believed that”officers were always right”. The new moon started dipping down by the time Hibutugoda stopped singing. I wished if I had my hip flask was filled with rum. If I had been able to give him a tot, Hibutugoda would have gone on singing till dawn.
It became one of the darkest nights after the moon set at 9.00 pm. It was so dark that we could barely see each other. During my training at BRNC, I learnt that our body temperature was in water for a long time and body fluids transferred to sea water by natural osmosis; we would get dehydrated, feel drowsy and then drown. I was worried about my sailors, specially of Bandara, who started shivering. I told the sailors to keep talking and if anyone felt drowsy to inform others without falling asleep. I had the worst fear that one of them would feel drowsy and drown. To keep them alert, I showed them how to find North by reading stars and how to trace the star- conciliation of ‘Orion’.
Then, I asked them to count stars, and anyone whose count was the same as mine, would get a bottle of rum from me when we reached the base. They kept counting and recounting stars!It was the longest night in my life. The sunrise of 2nd July 1984 was the most beautiful one I have seen. I suddenly realized 1st July was Sunday and Indian trawlers would not go fishing on Sundays.
Morale, however, was up with the sunrise. I saw a few smiles. We did something unbelievable. We survived one whole night in water! We had broken all previous records by the Sri Lanka Navy on survival.
I saw Kachchativu Island on the horizon, where a small church was built by a fisherman, who was a survivor of a storm, and dedicated it to St. Anthonys. We were too weak to swim towards the island. I told my sailors that help would come soon. I am a Buddhist and firm believer in God Skanda (God Kataragama) and St. Anthony. When we get a sea appointment, we go to St. Anthony Church, Kochikade and light a candle because St. Anthony is the Saint who looks after seafarers like us. Our ships in the Colombo harbour, before proceeding to the sea on patrol first, turn towards St. Antony’s Church to invoke its blessings. Before taking over my sea appointment in the North, I lit a candle there. I prayed to St. Antony.
A book written by the late
W. T. Jayasinghe, the former External Affairs and Defence Secretary, titled, Kachchativu: And the Maritime Boundary of Sri Lanka, says: “The sea surrounding Kachchativu are
fertile fishing grounds and fishermen from Sri Lanka have from time immemorial been venturing into these waters. It is recorded that fishermen of Point Pedro went as far as Kachchativu to catch turtles during particular seasons.
The Portuguese administered Kachchativu as part of Jaffna and Sri Lanka has been exercising sovereignty and jurisdiction over Kachchativu and its adjacent waters without interruption.” (Page 18)
We were very weak by morning. Around 9.00 hrs / July 2, 1984, we saw a fishing trawler at a distance. They saw us floating and came towards us. I silently prayed again that it should not be an Indian trawler. We the SLN are not the best friends of Indian trawlers poaching in our waters.
It was a Sri Lankan trawler which came from Gurunagar. They took us on board. I looked at my waterproof watch. Time was 10.20 hrs. We had been floating for 20 hours and 20 minutes. All of us survived. The Tamil fishermen were very kind to us. They gave us water to drink, which tasted very sweet. We had not taken any water or food for almost 24 hrs. Most of us were shivering from the cold and had signs of dehydration. The fishermen gave us sugar and bread. This was the breakfast of these humble people. I ate a piece of bread with sugar with tears in my eyes.
I thanked St Antony for being kind to us. I was determined to come back to the small St Antony’s Church in Kachchativu soon to light a candle. Soon we were spotted by a SLN ship. The happy news communicated to the Naval Base, Karainagar “Ravi and his boys are safe. We are bringing them home”. A reception at the Naval base was unbelievable, led by my senior batch Lieutenant Parakrama Samaraweera (Pol Samare or Nalaka who died in Mullaitivu in 1996) and six of my batch mates. All these happened when I was a 21-year old, way back in 1984. Thank god for allowing me to live. Thanks St. Anthony
My mother was 82-years old and she broke her hip in 2017, when I was Navy Commander. She gave me most of the valuable documents she was keeping with her. One of those documents was my horoscope, written by a world-famous astrologer who was a very close friend of my late father. My horoscope was written only up to 1st July 1984, and the astrologer had said the remaining part of it would be completed some other day. My late father or mother did not know why the astrologer had postponed writing the second part. Now, I know why he did so. However, I survived on July 1, 1984.
When I was the Navy Commander, I was given the opportunity by His Lordship, Rt Rev Dr Justin Ganapragasam, Roman Catholic Bishop of Jaffna to build a new St Anthony’s Church at Kachchativu. I was more than happy to do so. Former Navy Commander, Admiral Piyal De Silva was the Northern Naval Commander at the time. I grabbed this golden opportunity with both my hands. Piyal did a wonderful job and built a beautiful church for St. Anthony in six months. I do not miss attending the yearly feast, which attracts thousands of Indian and Sri Lankan devotees. On 1st of July, I remember how lucky we were to survive in the sea.
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