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A Humane Scholar at Oxford

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Oxford University

by Jayantha Perera

I met Barbara Harrel-Bond, an anthropologist, by accident in April 1989. At that time, I was with the USAID-funded Mahaweli Agriculture and Rural Development Project (MARD). One day at lunchtime, an old jeep arrived at the project office. A white woman in her sixties emerged from the jeep. She was in a kurta and was carrying several notebooks in her hands. She smiled and asked me whether I could find someone who knew how Sinhala villagers interacted with Tamil villagers in the war-front area. I told her our professional staff had gone out for lunch, so she should wait until they returned.

With a cigarette on her lips, she introduced herself as Barbara. She was the Director of the Refugee Studies Programme (RSP) and a professor at Oxford University. She was an anthropologist with extensive field experience in Africa. Her book Imposing Aid: Emergency Assistance to Refugees was on international development aid. She was an authority in refugee studies and international refugee law. I told her I am a development anthropologist working on irrigation water management in the Mahaweli. Her eyes beamed with hope, and she shouted, “You are the man I wanted to meet!”

I invited her for lunch at my residence. I offered her a cold beer, which she gulped down in five seconds. She inquired whether it was okay to smoke inside the house. I said yes. I switched on the air conditioner in the sitting room, as it was hot and muggy. She was amused to feel the cold air and said, “It is nice to see an anthropologist who lives in an air-conditioned house in the field.” She thanked me for rescuing her from the scorching sun.

Barbara was interested in the history of rivalries between Tamils and Sinhalese. She asked me about their living conditions, income disparities, gender issues, and political orientation. I told Barbara we could discuss these issues at length if she could stay a few days at Aralaganwila. Barbara said she had planned several meetings and wanted to return to Colombo. She invited me for lunch during the weekend if I were in Colombo.

Our weekend meeting in Colombo was intellectually stimulating. Each time we discussed a new topic, she ordered more tea or beer while typing her notes into her laptop. It was a primitive machine with two cassette spools. One had the WordStar programme, and the other had her notes.

Barbara invited me to the RSP to deliver a few lectures on Sri Lanka, specifically its political structure and ethnic tensions. She told me that I could stay at her place in Oxford. After about two months, I received an invitation letter and a return air ticket from the RSP. When I reached Oxford, she told me she had sent a taxi to Heathrow Airport to bring me to Oxford. But she forgot to tell me where to meet the taxi driver.

Staying at her place in Oxford was an experience. She lived in an old house on St. Giles. I found a sleeping corner on a cosy sofa in her large living room when I arrived. She introduced me to two Ugandan refugees and an undergrad from a European University. The two Ugandans prepared the dinner. They cooked lamb in peanut gravy, and we all had that with rice and a salad.

After dinner, we all met in Barbara’s large bedroom to watch TV and discuss the day’s work and tomorrow’s programme. She lay down on her bed and listened to our discussions. She occasionally asked a question or two. That day, the TV did not work. She asked us whether one of us could check the TV. Only the young European women volunteered to check it. She said the electric plug was not correctly installed, but she quickly fixed it. Barbara laughed and teased others, saying, “I did not expect anthropologists to know how to turn on a TV.”

When I woke up the following day, Barbara had already brewed coffee. We took our cups to her library and settled into two comfortable chairs. Until 8 a.m., we discussed Sri Lanka’s socio-political conditions and the outlines of my upcoming two lectures. Barbara mentioned inviting several professors and lecturers from the law and development faculties to the lectures. She also hinted that I might join her as a research fellow shortly.

Before I left for Colombo, Barbara told me she would raise funds to recruit an anthropologist from the third world as a fellow. She explained the fellowship as teaching a two-term course at the postgraduate level on field methods in social sciences and qualitative data analysis. The fellow would also conduct an annual summer school on refugee studies. Later, she wrote, “We need someone like you who combines research and practical experience and can write well in English.”

Two months later, Barbara informed me that the RSP had raised funds for a Ford fellowship. She asked whether I would be interested in being the first Ford Fellow at the RSP. I did not answer her for two weeks as I was in a dilemma. I was happy at MARD. The Chief-of-Party was also an anthropologist with whom I shared my views on development. He was an amiable fellow. He told me I should stay with him on the project for at least five years. I had finished only 30 months of my contract. Life in the Mahaweli was comfortable, although there were two significant risks: the LTTE and wild elephants.

At that time, an official at the Mahaweli Ministry wanted more control over the project consultants. He complained to USAID I had written a paper criticising the Sri Lankan government’s agricultural policies. He tried to twist the paper’s contents to prove that I was against the MARD Project. The USAID held a formal meeting in which the DAI and the Mahaweli Development Ministry participated. The USAID and the DAI did not find any fault with my paper. However, the official was adamant that some action should be taken against me. I submitted my resignation letter to the Chief of Party. He was relieved to receive my resignation as he did not want to disagree with the government. I accepted the Ford fellowship at the RSP in Oxford. This decision filled me with a sense of accomplishment and inspiration for the future.

Barbara Harrel-Bond

Barbara introduced me to her staff on my first day at the RSP. The Administrative Officer, Belinda, brought a cake and coffee to celebrate my arrival. Soon after coffee, Barbara took about 10 portrait photographs of me at the entrance to the RSP. When I asked her why she took so many photos, she smiled and said that a good photographer should take a dozen photographs before selecting the best one. Barbara had written an editorial about me for the RSP Newsletter and included my photograph. Barbara took me to the Bodleian Library and introduced me to the librarian by saying: “This is Dr Perera, an anthropologist from Sri Lanka, our Ford Fellow for the next 18 months. Unfortunately, he got his doctorate from the radical Sussex University. But I assure you he would behave well and surely not set fire to the library.”

Among the few library rules was the hilarious one that says ‘not setting fire to the library’ in the application form. Barbara got my library membership and showed me its various sections. She then took me to Oxfam Bookshop, where one could buy second-hand books for a fraction of their original prices. Barbara bought most of her books from the Oxfam Bookshop. She said I could borrow any book from her personal library at home.

Barbara invited me to her house whenever she had leisure time, especially on weekends. We discussed family histories, reasons for studying anthropology, and my plans. Barbara said that she grew up as the only daughter of a postman in a remote part of South Dakota, USA. As a young woman, she loved horse riding in the Dakota plains. She married an American pastor in 1951 and accompanied him to Oxford in the mid-1960s. Her husband studied for a doctorate and returned to the USA without completing his studies. Barbara refused to return with him to the USA and stayed in Oxford.

She joined the Institute of Social Anthropology, where she earned a doctorate in Social Anthropology. Barbara called herself a legal anthropologist. She divorced her husband and married Samuel Okeke, a Nigerian engineer, in 1974 while doing fieldwork in Sierra Leone in West Africa. Barbara left him and returned to Oxford to devote her time to refugees. In 1982, she established the RSP at Oxford University.

Barbara worked with many people in her smoke-filled room at the RSP. She listened intently to each speaker. If she had any questions, she would probe them. The discussions prolonged until all agreed on a solution or conclusion. She found time between such meetings, sometimes as little as 15 minutes, to open her unfinished memos and articles to work on them. She gave me her draft memos and papers to comment on. Every month, she received several international journal articles for review. She, with a naughty smile on her face, just palmed them off to me to review. She read and edited each of my draft reviews. Barbara then scanned and emailed it to the concerned journal or the publisher. I remember examining about 10 journal articles.

I prepared detailed notes for each lecture on the field methods course. I distributed them in advance among my students from the Oxford Department of International Development and the Royal Forestry Institute. Barbara read them with interest and encouraged me to include my field experience to substantiate and illuminate my arguments. Sometimes, she attended my classes and initiated lively discussions. Barbara told me that it had been the tradition that the teacher who finishes his/her lecture at 5 p.m. or after should take the students for a beer at a nearby pub. Barbara introduced me to the staff of a large pub. At the bar, I asked her, “Is this the pub where anthropologists meet?” She said, “No, this is a pub where some anthropologists meet.”

She explained that anthropologists were a peculiar and dangerous tribe; one could see many feuds and resentment among them. She said a few of them believed anthropologists should live in primitive societies. She added, “But they smoke pipes and drink whiskey whenever an opportunity arises. They are known for carrying pocket whiskey flasks.” She told me that some of them ridiculed and criticised her for doing refugee studies, which they thought was a field of study in political science.

Barbara was a leader of a local group in Oxford that pressed local authorities to approve an “illegal” structure a sculptor had built in 1986 on a rooftop — a 25-foot colourful fibreglass shark that looked as if it had fallen from the sky and penetrated the roof. The fall symbolised the anger, desperation, and impotence of local people in the wake of the bombing of Libya by American warplanes, which regularly flew over Oxford.

The sculptor also wanted to make a statement against nuclear weapons. The falling shark was a metaphor for a falling atomic bomb. She petitioned local authorities, demanding freedom to protest the state’s follies. Barbara wrote to the House of Commons and House of Lords demanding that the state protect its citizens’ freedom of expression. She emphasised that the state should not encourage aggressors and bullies, such as Americans, to use the UK’s airspace to harm others.

Once Barbara returned from London with four young men and a young woman. They were refugees from Africa who just landed in London. The International Red Cross had received them and handed them over to Barbara to educate and find sources of income for them. She introduced them to the RSP staff, saying they were members of the RSP family. Barbara asked me to meet her at her residence at 6 p.m. on the same day. She wanted to discuss how to accommodate five refugees.

Barbara had a few folded bed frames. She opened a small storeroom in the basement and took out bedding and pillows. The four men and the woman helped her to make temporary beds. Barbara invited the woman to sleep in her bedroom. I asked Barbara about their dinner. She told me, “Let us cook rice and a meat curry. I know you are a good cook.” I cooked rice and beef curry with carrots and made a large salad. Barbara joined the group for dinner. She said, “Today is one of my happiest days. I have you five with me. We can do lots of things together. A refugee is not a burden but an asset, and that is what I always tell the world.”

Barbara enrolled the five refugees at the university as part-time students. She found work for them as an unskilled waiters at a restaurant. Three months later, I visited the restaurant with Barbara to see the four men. They served us tea with dignity, style, and happy faces. Barbara had sent the woman of the group to a fashion house to learn how to make fancy clothes. Once, the woman brought a beautiful long dress for Barbara. At the bottom of the dress was a slogan – ‘Do not mess up with Arizona!’ Barbara loved this dress. One day, Barbara showed me one of the men holding hands with a white woman on the road. Barbara was happy to see them and said, “They have gone native!”

Barbara nominated me to represent the RSP at the American Anthropological Association’s annual meetings in New Orleans. At the meetings, I introduced RSP publications and research and action plans. I discussed with agencies the possibility of getting support for refugee studies and summer refugee training programmes. Two months later, Barbara asked me to go to New Delhi, India, to represent the RSP at the international refugee studies conference. My main task at the meeting was identifying potential research and study fellows and encouraging them to visit the RSP. I read a research article at the conference on ‘social structure and political development in Sri Lanka.’ Later, the Journal of Refugee Studies at Oxford published it.

The most challenging task at the RSP was coordinating its summer refugee studies programme. About 20 participants came from several countries, and their demands varied widely. Some reported that English food could have been better in quality and taste. Many were more interested in visiting university colleges and nearby towns than attending the courses. Barbara’s idea was that if at least a few participants learned about refugee issues and were determined to support them, the world would become a better place for all of us.

A friend at the RSP told me that Barbara was absent-minded. A story circulating at the RSP was Barbara had three cats, and one of them had three kittens. The mother cat kept her babies in the washing machine’s drum. One day, without checking, Barbara threw a few pieces of her clothes into the drum, started the machine, and went away. When she returned home, she opened the washing machine to see the tragedy she had caused. Three kittens were beyond recognition, and their fur and flesh clung to her clothes!

By the end of my stay in Oxford, Barbara frantically looked for more funds to keep me at the RSP. Belinda took me to London and Cambridge for interviews with various sponsors. At that time, a development consultancy company called ITAD UK contacted me regarding a senior position in a World Bank-funded project in Sindh, Pakistan. I told Barbara about the new opening. She was happy to hear the news and advised me to take the job. She wanted me to do fieldwork and write about internal displacement in Pakistan. She also sent a recommendation letter to the ITAD saying that whoever gets my services should consider themselves fortunate.

Barbara was bestowed the Order of British Empire (OBE) in 2005 for refugee and forced migration studies and services. She died in 2018 at the age of 85 years. Tributes and obituaries poured in from around the world. In tributes and obituaries, I saw the words ‘campaigner’, ‘activist,’ and ‘champion. ‘An obituary aptly summarised her life – “She grew up riding horses across the plains. Something of the Wild West never left her.”



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Features

Sheer rise of Realpolitik making the world see the brink

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A combined US-Israel attack on Iran.(BBC)

The recent humanly costly torpedoing of an Iranian naval vessel in Sri Lanka’s Exclusive Economic Zone by a US submarine has raised a number of issues of great importance to international political discourse and law that call for elucidation. It is best that enlightened commentary is brought to bear in such discussions because at present misleading and uninformed speculation on questions arising from the incident are being aired by particularly jingoistic politicians of Sri Lanka’s South which could prove deleterious.

As matters stand, there seems to be no credible evidence that the Indian state was aware of the impending torpedoing of the Iranian vessel but these acerbic-tongued politicians of Sri Lanka’s South would have the local public believe that the tragedy was triggered with India’s connivance. Likewise, India is accused of ‘embroiling’ Sri Lanka in the incident on account of seemingly having prior knowledge of it and not warning Sri Lanka about the impending disaster.

It is plain that a process is once again afoot to raise anti-India hysteria in Sri Lanka. An obligation is cast on the Sri Lankan government to ensure that incendiary speculation of the above kind is defeated and India-Sri Lanka relations are prevented from being in any way harmed. Proactive measures are needed by the Sri Lankan government and well meaning quarters to ensure that public discourse in such matters have a factual and rational basis. ‘Knowledge gaps’ could prove hazardous.

Meanwhile, there could be no doubt that Sri Lanka’s sovereignty was violated by the US because the sinking of the Iranian vessel took place in Sri Lanka’s Exclusive Economic Zone. While there is no international decrying of the incident, and this is to be regretted, Sri Lanka’s helplessness and small player status would enable the US to ‘get away with it’.

Could anything be done by the international community to hold the US to account over the act of lawlessness in question? None is the answer at present. This is because in the current ‘Global Disorder’ major powers could commit the gravest international irregularities with impunity. As the threadbare cliché declares, ‘Might is Right’….. or so it seems.

Unfortunately, the UN could only merely verbally denounce any violations of International Law by the world’s foremost powers. It cannot use countervailing force against violators of the law, for example, on account of the divided nature of the UN Security Council, whose permanent members have shown incapability of seeing eye-to-eye on grave matters relating to International Law and order over the decades.

The foregoing considerations could force the conclusion on uncritical sections that Political Realism or Realpolitik has won out in the end. A basic premise of the school of thought known as Political Realism is that power or force wielded by states and international actors determine the shape, direction and substance of international relations. This school stands in marked contrast to political idealists who essentially proclaim that moral norms and values determine the nature of local and international politics.

While, British political scientist Thomas Hobbes, for instance, was a proponent of Political Realism, political idealism has its roots in the teachings of Socrates, Plato and latterly Friedrich Hegel of Germany, to name just few such notables.

On the face of it, therefore, there is no getting way from the conclusion that coercive force is the deciding factor in international politics. If this were not so, US President Donald Trump in collaboration with Israeli Rightist Premier Benjamin Natanyahu could not have wielded the ‘big stick’, so to speak, on Iran, killed its Supreme Head of State, terrorized the Iranian public and gone ‘scot-free’. That is, currently, the US’ impunity seems to be limitless.

Moreover, the evidence is that the Western bloc is reuniting in the face of Iran’s threats to stymie the flow of oil from West Asia to the rest of the world. The recent G7 summit witnessed a coming together of the foremost powers of the global North to ensure that the West does not suffer grave negative consequences from any future blocking of western oil supplies.

Meanwhile, Israel is having a ‘free run’ of the Middle East, so to speak, picking out perceived adversarial powers, such as Lebanon, and militarily neutralizing them; once again with impunity. On the other hand, Iran has been bringing under assault, with no questions asked, Gulf states that are seen as allying with the US and Israel. West Asia is facing a compounded crisis and International Law seems to be helplessly silent.

Wittingly or unwittingly, matters at the heart of International Law and peace are being obfuscated by some pro-Trump administration commentators meanwhile. For example, retired US Navy Captain Brent Sadler has cited Article 51 of the UN Charter, which provides for the right to self or collective self-defence of UN member states in the face of armed attacks, as justifying the US sinking of the Iranian vessel (See page 2 of The Island of March 10, 2026). But the Article makes it clear that such measures could be resorted to by UN members only ‘ if an armed attack occurs’ against them and under no other circumstances. But no such thing happened in the incident in question and the US acted under a sheer threat perception.

Clearly, the US has violated the Article through its action and has once again demonstrated its tendency to arbitrarily use military might. The general drift of Sadler’s thinking is that in the face of pressing national priorities, obligations of a state under International Law could be side-stepped. This is a sure recipe for international anarchy because in such a policy environment states could pursue their national interests, irrespective of their merits, disregarding in the process their obligations towards the international community.

Moreover, Article 51 repeatedly reiterates the authority of the UN Security Council and the obligation of those states that act in self-defence to report to the Council and be guided by it. Sadler, therefore, could be said to have cited the Article very selectively, whereas, right along member states’ commitments to the UNSC are stressed.

However, it is beyond doubt that international anarchy has strengthened its grip over the world. While the US set destabilizing precedents after the crumbling of the Cold War that paved the way for the current anarchic situation, Russia further aggravated these degenerative trends through its invasion of Ukraine. Stepping back from anarchy has thus emerged as the prime challenge for the world community.

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A Tribute to Professor H. L. Seneviratne – Part II

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A Living Legend of the Peradeniya Tradition:

(First part of this article appeared yesterday)

H.L. Seneviratne’s tenure at the University of Virginia was marked not only by his ethnographic rigour but also by his profound dedication to the preservation and study of South Asian film culture. Recognising that cinema is often the most vital expression of a society’s aspirations and anxieties, he played a central role in curating what is now one of the most significant Indian film collections in the United States. His approach to curation was never merely archival; it was informed by his anthropological work, treating films as primary texts for understanding the ideological shifts within the subcontinent

The collection he helped build at the UVA Library, particularly within the Clemons Library holdings, serves as a comprehensive survey of the Indian ‘Parallel Cinema’ movement and the works of legendary auteurs. This includes the filmographies of directors such as Satyajit Ray, whose nuanced portrayals of the Indian middle class and rural poverty provided a cinematic counterpart to H.L. Seneviratne’s own academic interests in social change. By prioritising the works of figures such as Mrinal Sen and Ritwik Ghatak, H.L. Seneviratne ensured that students and scholars had access to films that wrestled with the complex legacies of colonialism, partition, and the struggle for national identity.

These films represent the ‘Parallel Cinema’ movement of West Bengal rather than the commercial Hindi industry of Mumbai. H.L. Seneviratne’s focus initially cantered on those world-renowned Bengali masters; it eventually broadened to encompass the distinct cinematic languages of the South. These films refer to the specific masterpieces from the Malayalam and Tamil regions—such as the meditative realism of Adoor Gopalakrishnan or the stylistic innovations of Mani Ratnam—which are culturally and linguistically distinct from the Bengali works. Essentially, H.L. Seneviratne is moving from the specific (Bengal) to the panoramic, ensuring that the curatorial work of H.L. Seneviratne was not just a ‘Greatest Hits of Kolkata’ but a truly national representation of Indian artistry. These films were selected for their ability to articulate internal critiques of Indian society, often focusing on issues of caste, gender, and the impact of modernisation on traditional life. Through this collection, H.L. Seneviratne positioned cinema as a tool for exposing the social dynamics that often remain hidden in traditional historical records, much like the hidden political rituals he uncovered in his early research.

Beyond the films themselves, H.L. Seneviratne integrated these visual resources into his curriculum, fostering a generation of scholars who understood the power of the image in South Asian politics. He frequently used these screenings to illustrate the conflation of past and present, showing how modern cinema often reworks ancient myths to serve contemporary political agendas. His legacy at the University of Virginia therefore encompasses both a rigorous body of writing that deconstructed the work of the kings and a vivid archive of films that continues to document the work of culture in a rapidly changing world.

In his lectures on Sri Lankan cinema, H.L. Seneviratne has frequently championed Lester James Peries as the ‘father of authentic Sinhala cinema.’ He views Peries’s 1956 film Rekava (Line of Destiny) as a watershed moment that liberated the local industry from the formulaic influence of South Indian commercial films. For H.L. Seneviratne, Peries was not just a filmmaker but an ethnographer of the screen. He often points to Peries’s ability to capture the subtle rhythms of rural life and the decline of the feudal elite, most notably in his masterpiece Gamperaliya, as a visual parallel to his own research into the transformation of traditional authority. H.L. Seneviratne argues that Peries provided a realistic way of seeing for the nation, one that eschewed nationalist caricature in favour of complex human emotion.

However, H.L. Seneviratne’s praise for Peries is often tempered by a critique of the broader visual nationalism that followed. He has expressed concern that later filmmakers sometimes misappropriated Peries’s indigenous style to promote a narrow, majoritarian view of history. In his view, while Peries opened the door to an authentic Sri Lankan identity, the state and subsequent commercial interests often used that same door to usher in a simplified, heroic past. This critique aligns with his broader academic stance against the rationalization of culture for political ends.

Constitutional Governance:

H.L. Seneviratne’s support for independent commissions is best described as a hopeful pragmatism; he views them as essential, albeit fragile, instruments for diffusing the hyper-concentration of executive power. Writing to Colombo Page and several news tabloids, H.L. Seneviratne addresses the democratic deficit by creating a structural buffer between partisan interests and public institutions, theoretically ensuring that the judiciary, police, and civil service operate on merit rather than political whim. However, he remains deeply aware that these commissions are not a panacea and are indeed inherently susceptible to the ‘politics of patronage.’

In cultures where power is traditionally exercised through personal loyalties, there is a constant risk that these bodies will be subverted through the appointment of hidden partisans or rendered toothless through administrative sabotage. Thus, while H.L. Seneviratne advocates for them as a means to transition a state from a patron-client culture to a rule-of-law framework, his anthropological lens suggests that the success of such commissions depends less on the law itself and more on the sustained pressure of civil society to keep them honest.

Whether discussing the nuances of a film’s narrative or the complexities of a constitutional clause, H.L. Seneviratne’s approach remains consistent in its focus on the spirit behind the institution. He maintains that a healthy democracy requires more than just the right laws or the right symbols; it requires a citizenry and a clergy capable of critical self-reflection. His career at the University of Virginia and his continued engagement with Sri Lankan public life stand as a testament to the idea that the intellectual’s work is never truly finished until the work of the people is fully realized.

In the context of H.L. Seneviratne’s philosophy, as discussed in his work of the kings ‘the work of the people’ is far more than a populist catchphrase; it represents the practical application of critical consciousness within a democracy. Rather than defining ‘work’ as labour or voting, H.L. Seneviratne views it as the transition of a population from passive subjects to an active, self-reflective citizenry. This means that a democracy is only truly ‘realized’ when the public possesses the intellectual autonomy to look beyond the ‘right laws’ or ‘right symbols’ and instead engage with the underlying spirit of their institutions. For H.L. Seneviratne, this work is specifically tied to the ability of the people—including influential groups like the clergy—to perform rigorous self-critique, ensuring that they are not merely following tradition or authority, but are actively sustaining the ethical health of the nation. It is a perpetual process of civic education and moral vigilance that moves a society from the ‘paper’ democracy of a constitution to a lived reality of accountability and insight.

This decline of the ‘intellectual monk’ had a catastrophic impact on the political landscape, particularly surrounding the watershed moment of 1956 and the ‘Sinhala Only’ movement. H.L. Seneviratne posits that when the Sangha exchanged their role as impartial moral advisors for that of political kingmakers, they became the primary obstacle to ethnic reconciliation. He suggests that politicians, fearing the immense grassroots influence of the monks, entered a state of monachophobia, where they felt unable to propose pluralistic or fair policies toward minority communities for fear of being branded as traitors to the faith. In H.L. Seneviratne’s framework, the monk’s transition from a social servant to a political vanguard effectively trapped the state in a cycle of majoritarian nationalism from which it has yet to escape.

H.L. Seneviratne’s work serves as a multifaceted critique of the modern Sri Lankan state and its cultural foundations. Whether he is dissecting what he sees as the betrayal of the monastic ideal or celebrating the humanistic vision of an Indian filmmaker, his goal remains the same: to champion a world where intellect and compassion are not sacrificed on the altar of political power. His legacy at the University of Virginia and his continued voice in Sri Lankan discourse remind us that the work of the intellectual is to provide a moral compass even, indeed especially, when the nation has lost its way.

(Concluded)

by Professor
M. W. Amarasiri de Silva

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Musical journey of Nilanka Anjalee …

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Nilanka Anjalee Wickramasinghe is, in fact, a reputed doctor, but the plus factor is that she has an awesome singing voice, as well., which stands as a reminder that music and intellect can harmonise beautifully.

Well, our spotlight today is on ‘Nilanka – the Singer,’ and not ‘Nilanka – the Singing Doctor!’

Nilanka’s journey in music began at an early age, nurtured by an ear finely tuned to nuance and a heart that sought expression beyond words.

Under the tutelage of her singing teachers, she went on to achieve the A.T.C.L. Diploma in Piano and the L.T.C.L. Diploma in Vocals from Trinity College, London – qualifications recognised internationally for their rigor and artistry.

These achievements formally certified her as a teacher and performer in both opera singing and piano music, while her Performer’s Certificate for singing attested to her flair on stage.

Nilanka believes that music must move the listener, not merely impress them, emphasising that “technique is a language, but emotion is the message,” and that conviction shines through in her stage presence –serene yet powerful, intimate yet commanding.

Her YouTube channel, Facebook and Instagram pages, “Nilanka Anjalee,” have become a window into her evolving artistry.

Here, audiences find not only her elegant renditions of local and international pieces but also her original songs, which reveal a reflective and modern voice with a timeless sensibility.

Each performance – whether a haunting ballad or a jubilant interpretation of a traditional hymn – carries her signature blend of technical finesse and emotional depth.

Beyond the concert hall and digital stage, Nilanka’s music is driven by a deep commitment to meaning.

Her work often reflects her belief in empathy, inner balance, and the beauty of simplicity—values that give her performances their quiet strength.

She says she continues to collaborate with musicians across genres, composing and performing pieces that reflect both her classical discipline and her contemporary outlook.

Widely acclaimed for her ability to adapt to both formal and modern stages, with equal grace, and with her growing repertoire, Nilanka has become a sought-after soloist at concerts and special events,

For those who seek to experience her artistry, firsthand, Nilanka Anjalee says she can be contacted for live performances and collaborations through her official channels.

Her voice – refined, resonant, and resolutely her own – reminds us that music, at its core, is not about perfection, but truth.

Dr. Nilanka Anjalee Wickramasinghe also indicated that her newest single, an original, titled ‘Koloba Ahasa Yata,’ with lyrics, melody and singing all done by her, is scheduled for release this month (March)

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