Features

As I remember, from 50 years ago: the 75-80 Katubedda Engineering Batch

Published

10 months ago

2025/06/15

University of Moratuwa

On a wonderful morning in May in the year 1975, a group of around 140 young men and women entered the engineering faculty at the Katubedda Campus of the University of Sri Lanka. Only around 12% of them were women, a statistic that has improved slightly to around 20% over the past 50 years! There appeared little to differentiate us from previous entrants to this campus. However, Dr L.H. Sumanadasa, who had previously been instrumental in setting up both the Institute of Practical Technology and the Ceylon College of Technology at Katubedda, had become the Vice-Chancellor of the (entire) University of Sri Lanka in 1974. Whether through his personal offices or through government policy or both, it had been deemed that all engineering entrants in 1975 from the Colombo District be sent to Katubedda.

I myself had wanted to go to Peradeniya, at that time undisputedly the more established faculty; not least because Professor E.O.E. Pereira, the former Engineering Dean and Vice-Chancellor at Peradeniya, had told me in no unmistakable terms that I should head to the Hanthane hills, when I was sent to meet him by the head of my school. Only three physical science entrants in our year had obtained four A grades at the A-level examinations. Getting an A grade was a significant achievement in those days – recently some 1300 had obtained 3 (out of 3) As for the same stream!! Anyway, all three with 4 As in our year were at Katubedda. One of them went, as I recall, to the University Grants Commission (UGC) to effect for himself a transfer to Peradeniya, but had been told not to be a fool. This may have been prophetic, because from our batch onwards, the intake quality to Katubedda increased significantly, or so I like to think.

The engineering faculty in those days had seven departments – civil, mechanical, electrical, electronics, chemical, materials and mining. The latter three disciplines were termed ‘applied sciences’ but are now all engineering programmes at Moratuwa. In addition, the faculty now has computer science, earth resources (a rebranding of mining), textile technology and transport management departments. We did experience our share of ragging at the hands of seniors, perhaps the most vociferous of whom went by the intimidating nickname of ‘Boo Bamba’ – rumour has it that he was later a professor of artificial intelligence at some U.S. University.

One of our batch nearly fainted at a rather physically demanding phase of the rag, and had to be escorted home by a few seniors – inadvertently creating history by being probably the first fresher to rag the seniors! Tales of exponential curves (‘e to the power x’) being drawn on cement floors using bare bums at the ‘Aachchi Palace’ also circulated during this rag period.

In spite of being in an institution that taught only professionally oriented programmes (engineering, architecture and technology) with almost guaranteed employment for its products, our university life was not devoid of the student activism that is such a major feature of state universities in Sri Lanka. The country had just seen the quelling of the first JVP uprising in 1971, surprisingly during an essentially socialist SLFP regime; which itself was toppled unceremoniously in 1977 by the avowedly market oriented UNP. Student activism was not viewed benevolently by the powers that be, whatever government was in office.

In our second year, a confrontation between students and the police at the Peradeniya campus had resulted in a student being shot dead. In our final year, an internal confrontation between the student union and the administration led to a hunger strike at Katubedda, causing our final examinations to be postponed from 1979 to 1980. There was no graduating batch in 1979, but two in 1980 – one in February (ourselves) and the other in November (for our junior batch, as scheduled). Political violence became much worse in the late 1980s, with the then vice-chancellor and a security guard being shot dead while in campus; and the entire Sri Lankan university system shut down for around two years.

Another issue in the background of our university life was the government policy on university admission. In 1971, the government introduced language-wise standardization, seen as a corrective against the perceived disproportionate numbers of Tamil students entering university, mainly to medical and engineering faculties. This ‘corrective’ was clearly repugnant to Tamil citizens, and may have been a factor in the formation of the LTTE in 1976. Such standardization was done away with in 1977, but a district quota system, also introduced in 1972, continues albeit with some modifications to this day. The district quota system is widely considered to deliver compensatory justice in our under-resourced education system, but also seen as a mechanism that continues to reduce university entrants from large population centres, including the Jaffna District. At any rate, the 1970s probably sowed the seeds of the two most disruptive social upheavals in our country, namely the LTTE uprising and second JVP one, both in the 1980s.

Just before we entered our specialization streams in the second year, the student union held a meeting to discuss the student response to the proposed introduction of calculators. Calculations in the first year were tackled using logarithmic tables, but we were about to graduate to (and invest in) slide rules in the next. The need to substitute slide rules with scientific calculators may appear to be a ‘no brainer’ today, but in the very real context of students from deprived backgrounds, the outcome of the discussion was by no means one sided. Anyway, we ended up using calculators from our second year onwards, and may in fact have been deprived for not having a ‘slide rule experience’ – slide rules were considered to be almost synonymous with an engineering outlook, if nothing else because they required users to keep track of orders of magnitude in their minds; the discipline of which is perhaps less developed in users of calculators!

The university administration too tried to provide cheap food and drink to cater to student poverty in these deprived 1970s. As I recall, a kahata (only tea) was just 3 cents but if one wanted a small piece of hakuru (jaggery) with it, it was a cent more. A ‘plain tea’ (i.e. tea with sugar added) was 5 cents, while a kiri kahata (tea with milk only) was 6 cents; a kiri kahata with hakuru was a cent more, while the priciest brew, i.e. ‘milk tea’ (tea, milk and sugar) was 8 cents. So the kahata was as cheap as it could get, but additions relatively pricey!! Imagine my surprise when I was studying in London in the early 1980s that one could add any amount of milk and sugar to one’s heart’s content after paying (of course around two orders of magnitude more than the above rates) for the basic cup of what we would have called kahata!!

The nature of the student union also changed during our student days. When we entered, the students were represented by the Engineering Students Scientific and Cultural Organization (ESSCO in short). All proceedings were conducted in English, and any contributions in other languages required translation. When an irate student once referred to the administration as “Waathayo”, the then President of ESSCO himself had to translate it as “Air guys”. By the time we graduated, ESSCO was no more, and had been replaced by a student union as in all state universities, with election outcomes based on proportional representation of competing groups; and Sinhala being the predominant language of discourse.

English vis-à-vis the vernacular languages is a struggle that continues to date. All programmes at Moratuwa were and are taught in English, with complete endorsement by students, who continue to see it as a passport to the world. However, everyday conversations were conducted largely in Sinhala or Tamil; especially in Sinhala, which was seen as part of the student ‘culture’, at least at campuses in the south like Moratuwa. This meant that even students with greater English language proficiency tended to hide that fact and converse in the lingua franca of the campus.

As I recall, only a few students tried deliberately to improve their English language skills by practising it with others more competent than they. Tamil students had the additional challenge that vendors and traders in the vicinity of the campus spoke largely in Sinhala; however, many such students ended up being trilingual after their campus experience! Language, in my opinion, continues to be a vexation in various ways in Sri Lanka. We need a way to find the best way forward that preserves our culture while being open to the world at large, and does not leave anyone behind.

Another significant change in our time, brought about by the Universities Act No. 16 of 1978, was the splitting up of the single University of Sri Lanka into six separate universities at the time (Sri Lanka now has seventeen state universities). In addition, our name changed from Katubedda to Moratuwa – i.e. from being the Katudebba Campus of the University of Sri Lanka we became the University of Moratuwa. There were mixed feelings regarding this, as I recall.

Some felt that we would lose the identity we had been trying to create (for the engineering faculty, one that was distinct from Peradeniya), an identity linked to the name Katubedda; someone even opined that ‘Katubedda’ had a more pleasing or aesthetic ‘ring’ to it compared to ‘Moratuwa’. Others however felt that the new ‘Moratuwa’ name would help the fledgling institution to break away from its lowlier ‘practical technology’ beginnings associated with the ‘Katubedda’ name. At any rate, the university community at Katubedda in Moratuwa had little say in the change, since it was the prerogative of the Minister in charge, in consultation with the University Grants Commission (UGC); and it was from the University of Moratuwa that we graduated.

In our final year, it was mostly our batchmates who were in the Sports Council as captains of the various sports, and a musical evening was arranged by them featuring a very well-known musical band. The unfortunate band leader was unable to comprehend the campus culture, because whatever he sang, whether Sinhala or English, slow or fast, every song was greeted with loud hooting. Although the organizers tried to explain that this was the student way of expressing appreciation, and in spite of trying to mollify the man with cups that cheer, he stalked off in disgust, leaving the rest of the band to entertain us!

One of the most colourful personalities in our batch was an old Anandian, who had acquired a reputation for teaching A-level physics tuition classes even before he entered. He maintained this avocation right through his university career, juggling examination timetables with his class schedules – other students have done such multi-tasking as well, but very few if any actually taught the classes they attended outside of university.

The fact that he was able to commute in a white Volkswagen car, purchased from the proceeds of his enterprise, no doubt helped in the balancing act. At any rate, it is his business and entrepreneurial skills in education that he made a career of – no doubt based on sound (mechanical) engineering instincts; and he ended up by establishing an enviable network of ‘international’ schools (named after the one set up by Aristotle himself) that were eminently affordable to middle class parents. Not content with being limited to such endeavours, he ventured into politics as well, serving for a while as the State Minister of University Education.

These reminiscences would not be complete without mentioning a few charismatic teachers as well. Most of us would remember the one who at times devoted 10% of his lecture time to thermodynamics, and the rest to politics; this same teacher had returned to Sri Lanka after his PhD in London, driving a Morris Oxford all the way. We may recall too, a mathematics professor who asked us “How much is one plus one?”; and proceeded to gaze out of the window in deep thought, counting on his fingers and saying “Let me think”, as if to search for an answer – I think he was trying to teach us the notion of correspondence; or have I got it wrong? Let me think… Then there was a Dean whom all of us quaked to meet one-on-one. One of our batchmates who had to so do, had reportedly persuaded another to exchange shirts and footwear, so that he would appear more presentable to the irascible administrator.

We should not forget the Department Head who managed to get a new car with 10 Sri 1 as its registration plate; and then proceeded to convert it (probably in our Auto Lab) to run on LP gas – soon after we graduated he was named one of Ten Outstanding Young Persons by the Sri Lanka Jaycees. Finally, there was this teacher in charge of a somewhat snake-infested survey camp (for our junior batch), who when interrogated by a student representative as to who would be responsible if a student was bitten by a reptile, replied without batting an eyelid that “the snake will be responsible”. Jokes apart however, we are who we are because of the dedication and sacrifice of especially our academic staff. They had to teach in a relatively unknown institution at the time, and consistently put the institution and its students first; that is, ahead of developing their own academic careers. We were the beneficiaries of their labours, which by no means were in vain.

And so we graduated in early 1980, with around 15 first class holders among us. Almost as a symbol that the university was having a new beginning with our batch, we were the first to have a convocation (probably of course because we were the first to graduate after the 1978 Act under a University of Moratuwa banner) – and that too at the impressive new BMICH, under the chancellorship of Arthur C. Clarke, the eminent science fiction writer. We later produced over 20 doctoral degree holders, maybe 10 full professors, a few engineering deans and authors of scholarly books, and even some researchers in the so-called Stanford-Elsevier database of top 2% scientists (based on citation impact).

Others have become organizational leaders, and hence ‘movers and shakers’. Apart from the gentleman mentioned earlier, we have another who has been CEO of both a bank and a manufacturing company; and at least two entrepreneurs – one in furniture and the other in high tech start-ups (based in the U.S. but back-ending his operation with Moratuwa students and graduates); also a lady CEO of a large state-owned utility provider. Some are working in high tech environments in developed countries, pushing the boundaries of disciplines such as aerospace and nuclear and biomechanical engineering. Others have put Sri Lanka on the map through their involvement in signature projects; or coordinating multi-nation initiatives, for example in disaster mitigation. There is one of us still playing representative cricket! I am doubtless unaware of other significant contributions – our batch, while not large, is not small either.

More importantly, we have all, in different ways and contexts, been helping to “direct the great sources of power in nature for the use and convenience of humans” – and nowadays safeguarding the environment while doing so as well. Our degrees from Moratuwa have brought us socio-economic mobility, and I suppose all of us have been trying to ‘give back’ to family, community or country (motherland or adopted) in various ways and degrees, whether through technical or humanitarian ventures.

Most if not all of us contributed to a Moratuwa University scholarship scheme in the memory of a batchmate who tragically perished in the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami. Some of us have already gone the way of all the world, while the rest are awaiting our calls; probably trying to become better human beings, whether in the interests of the hereafter, or just to make life easier for those who will care for us in the bard’s seventh act of life!

But what of the university itself? If I may be permitted a personal reflection, I was one of five batchmates who returned to the university to serve on its academic staff. As a young staff member, I used to envy Peradeniya’s stature – many of its engineering faculty staff had Cambridge PhDs (for example) and their graduates seemed to have an open door to that ancient seat of learning. However, by the time I retired, some 40 years after joining the academic staff, our own graduates had been regularly accepted for PhDs not only at Cambridge but also at Oxford, Imperial, Caltech, MIT, Princeton and ETH Zurich. In addition, it goes without saying that Moratuwa is undisputedly the first choice now (from among seven engineering faculties) of the majority of those 1300 university aspirants with 3 As at their A-levels. I like to think that 1975-80 (our batch, in fact!!) was the turning point for Moratuwa University’s fortunes.

Written by a member of the 75-80 Katubedda Engineering batch who was later a Moratuwa University teacher for 40 years (with apologies for any inadvertent errors or omissions).

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Features

Retirement age for judges: Innovation and policy

Published

20 hours ago

2026/04/6

Thilina Walpola

I. The Constitutional Context

Independence of the judiciary is, without question, an essential element of a functioning democracy. In recognition of this, ample provision is made in the highest law of our country, the Constitution, to engender an environment in which the courts are able to fulfil their public responsibility with total acceptance.

As part of this protective apparatus, judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal are assured of security of tenure by the provision that “they shall not be removed except by an order of the President made after an address of Parliament supported by a majority of the total number of members of Parliament, (including those not present), has been presented to the President for such removal on the ground of proved misbehaviour or incapacity”[Article 107(2)]. Since this assurance holds good for the entirety of tenure, it follows that the age of retirement should be defined with certainty. This is done by the Constitution itself by the provision that “the age of retirement of judges of the Supreme Court shall be 65 years and of judges of the Court of Appeal shall be 63 years”[Article 107(5)].

II. A Proposal for Reform

This provision has been in force ever since the commencement of the Constitution. Significant public interest, therefore, has been aroused by the lead story in a newspaper, Anidda of 13 March, that the government is proposing to extend the term of office of judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal by a period of two years.

This proposal, if indeed it reflects the thinking of the government, is deeply disturbing from the standpoint of policy, and gives rise to grave consequences. The courts operating at the apex of the judicial structure are called upon to do justice between citizens and also between the state and members of the public. It is an indispensable principle governing the administration of justice that not the slightest shadow of doubt should arise in the public mind regarding the absolute objectivity and impartiality with which the courts approach this task.

What is proposed, if the newspaper report is authentic, is to confer on judges of two particular courts, the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal, a substantial benefit or advantage in the form of extension of their years of service. The question is whether the implications of this initiative are healthy for the administration of justice.

III. Governing Considerations of Policy

What is at stake is a principle intuitively identified as a pillar of justice.

Reflecting firm convictions, the legal antecedents reiterate the established position with remarkable emphasis. The classical exposition of the seminal standard is, of course, the pronouncement by Lord Hewart: “It is not merely of some importance, but is of fundamental importance that justice should not only be done, but should manifestly and undoubtedly be seen to be done”. (Rex v. Sussex Justices, ex parte McCarthy). The underlying principle is that perception is no less important than reality. The mere appearance of partiality has been held to vitiate proceedings: Dissanayake v. Kaleel. In particular, reasonableness of apprehension in the mind of the parties to litigation is critical: Ranjit Thakur v. Union of India, a reasonable likelihood of bias being necessarily fatal (Manak Lal v. Prem Chaud Singhvi).

The overriding factor is unshaken public confidence in the judiciary: State of West Bengal v. Shivananda Pathak. The decision must be “demonstrably” (Saleem Marsoof J.) fair. The Bar Association of Sri Lanka has rightly declared: “The authority of the judiciary ultimately depends on the trust reposed in it by the people, which is sustained only when justice is administered in a visibly fair manner”.

Credibility is paramount in this regard. “Justice has to be seen to be believed” (J.B. Morton). Legality of the outcome is not decisive; process is of equal consequence. Judicial decisions, then, must withstand public scrutiny, not merely legal technicality: Mark Fernando J. in the Jana Ghosha case. Conceived as continuing vitality of natural justice principles, these are integral to justice itself: Samarawickrema J. in Fernando v. Attorney General. Institutional integrity depends on eliminating even the appearance of partiality (Mandal Vikas Nigam Ltd. v. Girja Shankar Pant), and “open justice is the cornerstone of our judicial system”: (Sahara India Real Estate Corporation Ltd. v. SEBI).

IV. Practical Constraints

Apart from these compelling considerations of policy, there are practical aspects which call for serious consideration. The effect of the proposal is that, among all judges operating at different levels in the judicature of Sri Lanka, judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal only, to the exclusion of all other judges, are singled out as the beneficiaries of the proposal. An inevitable result is that High Court and District Judges and Magistrates will find their avenues of promotion seriously impeded by the unexpected lengthening of the periods of service of currently serving judges in the two apex courts. Consequently, they will be required to retire at a point of time appreciably earlier than they had anticipated to relinquish judicial office because the prospect of promotion to higher courts, entailing higher age limits for retirement, is precipitately withdrawn. Some degree of demotivation, arising from denial of legitimate expectation, is therefore to be expected.

A possible response to this obvious problem is a decision to make the two-year extension applicable to all judicial officers, rather than confining it to judges of the two highest courts. This would solve the problem of disillusionment at lower levels of the judiciary, but other issues, clearly serious in their impact, will naturally arise.

Public service structures, to be equitable and effective, must be founded on principles of non-discrimination in respect of service conditions and related matters. Arbitrary or invidious treatment is destructive of this purpose. In determining the age of retirement of judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal, some attention has been properly paid to balance and consistency. The age of retirement of a Supreme Court judge is on par with that applicable to university professors and academic staff in the higher education system. They all retire at 65 years. Members of the public service, generally, retire at 60. Medical specialists retire at 63, with the possibility of extension in special circumstances to 65. The age of retirement for High Court Judges is 61, and for Magistrates and District Judges 60. It may be noted that the policy change in 2022 aimed at specifically addressing the issue of uniformity and compatibility.

If, then, an attempt is made to carve out an ad hoc principle strictly limited to judicial officers, not admitting of a self-evident rationale, the question would inevitably arise whether this is fair by other categories of the public service and whether the latter would not entertain a justifiable sense of grievance.

This is not merely a moral or ethical issue relating to motivation and fulfillment within the public service, but it could potentially give rise to critical legal issues. It is certainly arguable that the proposed course of action represents an infringement of the postulate of equality of treatment, and non-discrimination, enshrined in Article 12(1) of the Constitution.

There would, as well, be the awkward situation that this issue, almost certain to be raised, would then have to be adjudicated upon by the Supreme Court, itself the direct and exclusive beneficiary of the impugned measure.

V. Piecemeal Amendment or an Overall Approach?

If innovation on these lines is contemplated, would it not be desirable to take up the issue as part of the new Constitution, which the government has pledged to formulate and enact, rather than as a piecemeal amendment at this moment to the existing Constitution? After all, Chapter XV, dealing with the Judiciary, contains provisions interlinked with other salient features of the Constitution, and an integrated approach would seem preferable.

VI. Conclusion

In sum, then, it is submitted that the proposed change is injurious to the institutional integrity of the judiciary and to the prestige and stature of judges, and that it should not be implemented without full consideration of all the issues involved.

By Professor G. L. Peiris
D. Phil. (Oxford), Ph. D. (Sri Lanka);
Former Minister of Justice, Constitutional Affairs and National Integration;
Quondam Visiting Fellow of the Universities of Oxford, Cambridge and London;
Former Vice-Chancellor and Emeritus Professor of Law of the University of Colombo.

Features

Ranked 134th in Happiness: Rethinking Sri Lanka’s development through happiness, youth wellbeing and resilience

Published

20 hours ago

2026/04/6

Thilina Walpola

In recent years, Sri Lanka has experienced a succession of overlapping challenges that have tested its resilience. Cyclone Ditwah struck Sri Lanka in November last year, significantly disrupting the normal lives of its citizens. The infrastructure damage is much more serious than the tsunami. According to World Bank reports and preliminary estimates, the losses amounted to approximately US$ 4.1 billion, nearly 4 per cent of the country’s Gross Domestic Product. Before taking a break from that, the emerging crisis in the Middle East has once again raised concerns about potential economic repercussions. In particular, those already affected by disasters such as Cyclone Ditwah risk falling “from the frying pan into the fire,” facing multiple hardships simultaneously. Currently, we see fuel prices rising, four-day workweeks, a higher cost of living, increased pressure on household incomes, and a reduction in the overall standard of living for ordinary citizens. It would certainly affect people’s happiness. As human beings, we naturally aspire to live happy and fulfilling lives. At a time when the world is increasingly talking about happiness and wellbeing, the World Happiness Report provides a useful way of looking at how countries are doing. The World Happiness Report discusses global well-being and offers strategies to improve it. The report is produced annually with contributions from the University of Oxford’s Wellbeing Research Centre, Gallup, the UN Sustainable Development Solutions Network, and other stakeholders. There are many variables taken into consideration for the index, including the core measure (Cantril Ladder) and six explanatory variables (GDP per Capita ,Social Support,Healthy Life Expectancy,Freedom to Make Life Choices,Generosity,Perceptions of Corruption), with a final comparison.

According to the recently published World Happiness Report 2026, Sri Lanka ranks 134th out of 147 nations. As per the report, this is the first time that Sri Lanka has suffered such a decline. Sri Lanka currently trails behind most of its South Asian neighbours in the happiness index. The World Happiness Report 2026 attributes Sri Lanka’s low ranking (134th) to a combination of persistent economic struggles, social challenges, and modern pressures on younger generations. The 2026 report specifically noted that excessive social media use is a growing factor contributing to declining life satisfaction among young people globally, including in Sri Lanka. This calls for greater vigilance and careful reflection. These concerns should be examined alongside key observations, particularly in the context of education reforms in Sri Lanka, which must look beyond their immediate scope and engage more meaningfully with the country’s future.

In recent years, a series of events has triggered political upheaval in countries such as Nepal, characterised by widespread protests, government collapse, and the emergence of interim administration. Most reports and news outlets described this as “Gen Z protests.” First, we need to understand what Generation Z is and its key attributes. Born between 1997 and 2012, Generation Z represents the first truly “digital native” generation—raised not just with the internet, but immersed in it. Their lives revolve around digital ecosystems: TikTok sets cultural trends, Instagram fuels discovery, YouTube delivers learning, and WhatsApp sustains peer communities. This constant, feed-driven engagement shapes not only how they consume content but how they think, act, and spend. Tech-savvy and socially aware, Gen Z holds brands to a higher standard. For them, authenticity, transparency, and accountability—especially on environmental and ethical issues—aren’t marketing tools; they’re baseline expectations. We can also observe instances of them becoming unnecessarily arrogant in making quick decisions and becoming tools of some harmful anti-social ideological groups. However, we must understand that any generation should have proper education about certain aspects of the normal world, such as respecting others, listening to others, and living well. More interestingly, a global survey by the McKinsey Health Institute, covering 42,083 people across 26 countries, finds that Gen Z reports poorer mental health than older cohorts and is more likely to perceive social media as harmful.

Youth health behaviour in Sri Lanka reveals growing concerns in mental health and wellbeing. Around 18% of youth (here, school-going adolescents aged 13-17) experience depression, 22.4% feel lonely, and 11.9% struggle with sleep due to worry, with issues rising alongside digital exposure. Suicide-related risks are significant, with notable proportions reporting thoughts, plans, and attempts, particularly among females. Bullying remains a significant concern, particularly among males, with cyberbullying emerging as a notable issue. At the same time, substance use is increasing, including tobacco, smokeless tobacco, and e-cigarettes. These trends highlight the urgent need for targeted interventions to support youth mental health, resilience, and healthier behavioural outcomes in Sri Lanka. We need to create a forum in Sri Lanka to keep young people informed about this. Sri Lanka can designate a date (like April 25th) as a National Youth Empowerment Day to strengthen youth mental health and suicide prevention efforts. This should be supported by a comprehensive, multi-sectoral strategy aligned with basic global guidelines. Key priorities include school-based emotional learning, counselling services, and mental health training for teachers and parents. Strengthening data systems, reducing access to harmful means, and promoting responsible media reporting are essential. Empowering families and communities through awareness and digital tools will ensure this day becomes a meaningful national call to action.

As discussed earlier, Sri Lanka must carefully understand and respond to the challenges arising from its ongoing changes. Sri Lanka should establish an immediate task force comprising responsible stakeholders to engage in discussions on ongoing concerns. Recognising that it is not a comprehensive solution, the World Happiness Index can nevertheless act as an important indicator in guiding a paradigm shift in how we approach education and economic development. For a country seeking to reposition itself globally, Sri Lanka must adopt stronger, more effective strategies across multiple sectors. Building a resilient and prosperous future requires sound policymaking and clear strategic direction.

(The writer is a Professor in Management Studies at the Open University of Sri Lanka. You can reach Professor Abeysekera via nabey@ou.ac.lk)

by Prof. Nalin Abeysekera

Features

Hidden diversity in Sri Lanka’s killifish revealed: New study reshapes understanding of island’s freshwater biodiversity

Published

20 hours ago

2026/04/6

Thilina Walpola

Aplocheilus parvus

A groundbreaking new study led by an international team of scientists, including Sri Lankan researcher Tharindu Ranasinghe, has uncovered striking genetic distinctions in two closely related killifish species—reshaping long-standing assumptions about freshwater biodiversity shared between Sri Lanka and India.

Published recently in Zootaxa, the research brings together leading ichthyologists such as Hiranya Sudasinghe, Madhava Meegaskumbura, Neelesh Dahanukar and Rajeev Raghavan, alongside other regional experts, highlighting a growing South Asian collaboration in biodiversity science.

For decades, scientists debated whether Aplocheilus blockii and Aplocheilus parvus were in fact the same species. But the new genetic analysis confirms they are “distinct, reciprocally monophyletic sister species,” providing long-awaited clarity to their taxonomic identity.

Speaking to The Island, Ranasinghe said the findings underscore the hidden complexity of Sri Lanka’s freshwater ecosystems.

“What appears superficially similar can be genetically very different,” he noted. “Our study shows that even widespread, common-looking species can hold deep evolutionary histories that we are only now beginning to understand.”

A tale of two fishes

The study reveals that Aplocheilus blockii is restricted to peninsular India, while Aplocheilus parvus occurs both in southern India and across Sri Lanka’s lowland wetlands.

Despite their close relationship, the two species show clear genetic separation, with a measurable “genetic gap” distinguishing them. Subtle physical differences—such as the pattern of iridescent scales—also help scientists tell them apart.

Co-author Sudasinghe, who has led several landmark studies on Sri Lankan freshwater fishes, noted that such integrative approaches combining genetics and morphology are redefining taxonomy in the region.

Echoes of ancient land bridges

The findings also shed light on the ancient biogeographic links between Sri Lanka and India.

Scientists believe that during periods of low sea levels in the past, the two landmasses were connected by the now-submerged Palk Isthmus, allowing freshwater species to move between them.

Later, rising seas severed this connection, isolating populations and driving genetic divergence.

“These fishes likely dispersed between India and Sri Lanka when the land bridge existed,” Ranasinghe said. “Subsequent isolation has resulted in the patterns of genetic structure we see today.”

Meegaskumbura emphasised that such patterns are increasingly being observed across multiple freshwater fish groups in Sri Lanka, pointing to a shared evolutionary history shaped by geography and climate.

A deeper genetic divide

One of the study’s most striking findings is that Sri Lankan populations of A. parvus are genetically distinct from those in India, with no shared haplotypes between the two regions.

Dahanukar explained that this level of differentiation, despite relatively recent geological separation, highlights how quickly freshwater species can diverge when isolated.

Meanwhile, Raghavan pointed out that these findings reinforce the importance of conserving habitats across both countries, as each region harbours unique genetic diversity.

Implications for conservation

The study carries important implications for conservation, particularly in a country like Sri Lanka where freshwater ecosystems are under increasing pressure from development, pollution, and climate change.

Ranasinghe stressed that understanding genetic diversity is key to protecting species effectively.

“If we treat all populations as identical, we risk losing unique genetic lineages,” he warned. “Conservation planning must recognise these hidden differences.”

Sri Lanka is already recognised as a global biodiversity hotspot, but studies like this suggest that its biological richness may be even greater than previously thought.

A broader scientific shift

The research also contributes to a growing body of work by scientists such as Sudasinghe and Meegaskumbura, challenging traditional assumptions about species distributions in the region.

Earlier studies often assumed that many freshwater fish species were shared uniformly between India and Sri Lanka. However, modern genetic tools are revealing a far more complex picture—one shaped by ancient geography, climatic shifts, and evolutionary processes.

“We are moving from a simplistic view of biodiversity to a much more nuanced understanding,” Ranasinghe said. “And Sri Lanka is proving to be a fascinating natural laboratory for this kind of research.”

Looking ahead

The researchers emphasise that much remains to be explored, with several freshwater fish groups in Sri Lanka still poorly understood at the genetic level.

For Sri Lanka, the message is clear: beneath its rivers, tanks, and wetlands lies a largely untapped reservoir of evolutionary history.

As Ranasinghe puts it:

“Every stream could hold a story of millions of years in the making. We are only just beginning to read them.”

By Ifham Nizam