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

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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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The NPP’s Dilemma: Arresting Politics and Unarresting Progress

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The New Parody: NPP and its Lilliputians

by Rajan Philips

The 22nd Amendment has given the government’s critics a convenient cudgel to beat up the government. But there has been no crushing blow by any effective opponent. Too many people have been taking too many turns and striking too many blows, but no one has landed anything to shake the government in any way. The whole drama is the new Sri Lankan parody of Lilliputians taking on Gulliver. Nonetheless, the critics have found an opening to keep haranguing the government. There are two prongs to their exertions.

One is the pre-NPP past of the old JVP. In political years, the chasm is as wide as that between the Old Testament and the New Testament. This provides the basis for claiming that 22A is the NPP government’s first step towards ending parliamentary democracy. The hilarity of this accusation is matched by its hypocrisy inasmuch as the current chief accuser was also the high priest of the 18th Amendment that was set up to envision a third term for Mahinda Rajapaksa. Who else – but GL Pieris. One good thing the Bar Association did was to keep GL Pieris entirely out of its entourages.

The second front of attacks on the government is based on the JVP-NPP’s cohabitation in the Yahapalanaya diarchy of Sirisena and Wickremesinghe. Indeed, the question has been asked: Is Malimawa heading to be the second Yahapalanaya? If that were so, GL Peiris and others should be able to feign a sigh of relief that parliamentary democracy is indeed safe owing to the NPP’s incompetence. But the absurdity of the Malimawa – Yahapalanaya allusion is a different laugh. Perhaps, more than one laugh.

One is in the table-talk suggestion that “due to the misdeeds of Pohottuwa that followed Yahapalanaya, voters gave an overwhelming mandate to Malimawa…” Sanitizing the disaster that was Gotabaya presidency as misdeed is quite a feat. A more serious look is about the voters who gave the “overwhelming mandate to Malimawa.” Most of the Malimawa voters were peeled off the Pohottuwa vote block, while Yahapalanaya voters were left to choose between Sajith Premadasa and Ranil Wickremesinghe. Namal Rajapaksa who was supposed to stand down in support of Ranil Wickremasinghe in the hope of diverting Pohottuwa votes to RW. Instead, the Rajapaksa scion decided to get big race experience, fared badly in the race and caused another serial defeat for RW.

Arresting Politics

Now the political wheels are turning differently. Namal Rajapaksa has become the latest martyr of the government’s arresting politics. Illusorily or not, the young Rajapaksa believes that he’s finding political traction in the country and that the government is putting him behind bars to slow him down. Coming to his defence is of course the inscrutable (even to himself) Ranil Wickremesinghe.

Sajith Premadasa has apparently remained quiet so far, and so has the SJB. Neither has made any statement or expressed concern over the arrest of Namal Rajapaksa on Friday, September 4. It is not that Mr. Premadasa is becoming what Ranil Wickremesinghe was to Mahinda Rajapaksa – the government’s Minister of the Opposition, but the man has no political fire in his belly. If his passion is for wildlife, he should ask the government to put him in charge of running the Yala National Park. He can have a better animal farm there than what he seems to be suffering within his Party and in parliament.

Mr. Rajapaksa has been arrested over the Airbus purchase scandal that goes back to 2012 and 2013. The details of the scandal are known, and allegations of payoffs have been rumoured for quite a while. Yet it is the of pattern of Friday morning questioning, evening arrest and arraignment, and weekend incarceration – that has become all too familiar and fodder for cynical misgivings. There have been too many arrests but too few trials, let alone convictions. All arrests and no trials not only erodes public confidence in the process, but also let the criminals and their beneficiaries go Scot-free.

For his part, Namal Rajapaksa is claiming that the government timed his arrest to scuttle the political rally that he and the SLPP have scheduled for Saturday, September 12, in Anuradhapura. Their claim seems to that the Anuradhapura rally will mark the scion’s coming of age as a viable presidential candidate. The claim gets some credence in the context of the government’s own political planning for holding a series of pro-government public rallies where President Dissanayake will be both the show and substance. The first of the NPP rallies is coincidentally scheduled for Sunday, September 13, and also in Anuradhapura.

Next week, we will have all the commentaries and comparisons about the two rival rallies in Anuradhapura. Future rallies will show whether Mr. Rajapaksa is actually surging in the public recognition of his political abilities, and whether the government is actually concerned about this apparent surge and mounting a counter surge of its own. If all this were true, the irrelevance of Sajith Premadasa will become even more entrenched, and the personal relevance of Ranil Wickremesinghe will become even more real.

For the pundit theory is that while the NPP might view Namal Rajapaksa as a growing threat in popular politics, its more substantive fear is about Ranil Wickremesinghe and what he says about the economy. To wit, the government’s full throttled response to Mr. Wickremasinghe’s casual remark at a political book launch that the government may not be having enough forex reserves when foreign creditors come collecting in 2028.

The Real Question

The real question is apart from the show and tell of political rallies there is still not much to write home about government performance on the substance of the economy. The government has so far been quite good at keeping the economic house in order. Keeping order is not too difficult a task once you start keeping corruption out of the door. But there are no signs of the government doing anything substantial on the economic front, especially the export sector for without significantly increasing export earnings it will be impossible to carry out debt repayment.

The government has been commended for identifying 33 State-Owned-Enterprises (SOEs) for closure or restructuring. Yet there are a few biggies left, including the debt burdened Sri Lankan Airlines with about $ 2 billion estimated to be its accumulated losses. The government has also announced a slew of mega projects in highways and the energy sector. At the same time, there are ethno-economic criticisms that the government is delaying work on the KKS Harbour and the Palaly Airport projects that have Indian funding.

Highway projects can be a curse dressed up as blessing, and they are coming out of the same Rajapaksa economic playbook. There are rumours that would be corporate beneficiaries of mega highway projects have found an inside track to government decision makers. It is up to the government to prove that such allegations are untrue and to demonstrate that it will not be bought over in contract awards. Highway construction is also import heavy even with local contractors. The economic worry should be that with too many highway projects, all going on at the same time, there will be a drain on the limited forex reserves to bring in equipment and materials. That was the experience of the highway robberies under the Rajapaksas and the NPP government can forget the lessons from that era only at its peril.

On a positive note, there is commendable activity in the renewable energy sector, amidst warnings by the Public Utilities Commission (PUSCL) about new power cuts under El Niño weather conditions. The PUSCL recently approved new feed-in tariffs for electricity from renewable energy sources and has directed the newly minted National System Operator (NSO) to expedite the implementation of Battery Energy Storage System with sufficient capacity to accommodate solar energy. There is some and back-and-forth between the two agencies about implementation details, but that is a good disagreement to have as opposed to the prolonged agreement about doing nothing on renewable energy.

There is a new green light for the once controversial 350 MW LNG power project in Kerawalapitiya. The project is being undertaken by Sahasdhanavi Limited on a Build-Own-Operate-Transfer (BOOT) basis, and will be implemented in two phases. The unfortunate snag is that in both phases, initial operations will be based on diesel with expectation to switch to Regasified Liquefied Natural Gas (RLNG) which will require additional infrastructure and supply arrangements. One would hope that diesel generation will not become a permanent feature in Kerawalapitiya.

To its credit, the government launched Sri Lanka’s largest renewable energy project, the ‘Rividanavi’ Solar Power Park project, in September 2025, in the Monaragala District, as part of the target to generate 70% of the country’s electricity from renewable energy sources by 2030. Sooner the country reduces its reliance on thermal energy, the better for its economy and the environment.

The government seems to be wanting in messaging its achievements, big or small, to the public in consistent and convincing ways. The mode of messaging through presidential rallies may not have much benefit except during an election campaign. At the same time, the government is getting caught up in controversies of its own making. The exertions on all sides over the 22nd Amendment is a case in point. In the upshot, it is the judiciary that has been badmouthed and diminished. The lure of arresting politics could be appealing in the short term, but can come back to haunt one if no one gets convicted.

For all intent and purpose, the government has missed the bus on constitutional reforms. I would be the first to applaud if my prediction turns out to be incorrect. But the government cannot walk away from the economy the way it seems to have abandoned its promise on the constitution. And the challenge of managing even a small national economy is not getting any easier with all the havoc that the Trump Administration is wreaking on America and the world.

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Remembering Nihal Rodrigo: A friendship extending over 50 years

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Anila Bandaranaike as a graduate student at Cornel in the US (right) eating ice cream at Central Park with Nihal and Chitra Rodrigo and their twins

Nihal Passed away on 14th August, a few days after his 86th birthday. Nandi, Raffi and Anouk, his granddaughter, had been with him from New York till just a week before he died. In the weeks after he passed away, there have been glowing tributes to Nihal by his professional colleagues and from organisations in which he served. My tribute is personal, of friendship over decades with a multi-talented and kind-hearted gentleman, with a delightful sense of humour, who wore his talents so lightly.

I cannot speak of Nihal without talking of his wife Chitra. To me, they were an ideal union. They shared the same values of kindness, generosity, commitment, professionalism, humility and unquestionable integrity. They also shared many interests – in art, theatre, film, classical music (both oriental and western), literature and world affairs, to name a few. They were equal partners, each respecting the other’s views and looking out for the other. They had their arguments, but with never a loud, rude, harsh or unpleasant word.

I first met Nihal and his family nearly 50 years ago in Manhattan, New York. I had moved to Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, as a graduate student in January 1978. I had an introduction to them from my close friend Radhika Coomaraswamy, who had known them since her student days in New York. Nihal was Counsellor at the Sri Lanka Mission to the UN. He and Chitra, together with their 6-year old twins, Nandi and Satya, graciously opened their home to me. From the beginning, I was made to feel a part of this delightful family and I considered their apartment in Manhattan as my “home away from home”. I regularly dislodged one of the twins from a bed to a sleeping bag on the floor, whenever I turned up in the “Big Apple” on the six-hour greyhound bus ride from Ithaca, comfortable enough to occasionally bring a friend along as well!

I have such happy memories of walking in Central Park eating ice-cream with the foursome, or going to movies and Broadway shows with Chitra. Our friendship never wavered over the next several decades and geographical distances, as they moved from one diplomatic post to another. I remain ever-grateful to Radhika for that initial introduction.

My father (Sam Wijesinha) had befriended them before me, when he had accompanied a Parliamentary delegation to Australia in 1970, in his capacity as Secretary General of Parliament, and he was a great fan. Nihal was then acting High Commissioner and they had brought him to their home for a chat and informal dinner after an official party they had all three attended. When they got home, both Nihal and Chitra realized that neither had taken their keys with them and they were locked outside their own home with their guest! Undeterred, Nihal managed to prise open the kitchen window and climb into the house to let the other two in. My father remained a great admirer of Nihal and Chitra forever after!

From Counsellor in New York, Nihal rose to Ambassador status, SAARC Secretary-General and Foreign Secretary, and finally as our Ambassador in China. They were such fun and gracious hosts when my husband and I visited them in both Kathmandu and Beijing and made their home our base while travelling in Nepal and China. They were the perfect diplomatic couple, able to converse with, and entertain royalty, presidents, the literary, arts and business communities and regular citizens, with equal ease, grace and dignity. It certainly did not harm the Sri Lankan image that they were also an extraordinarily good-looking couple!

Nihal and Chitra met as students at Peradeniya University in its golden years. They enjoyed Ediriweera Sarachchandra’s plays at the famous open-air theatre, while Nihal was also President of the English Drama Society. On my return to Sri Lanka in the mid-‘80s, it was Chitra who introduced me to Sinhabahu and Maname, as well as all the glorious ballets performed by the Chitrasena and Vajira dance troupe.

As mentioned by others, Nihal was an authority on art and a painter himself. Nihal, Chitra and fellow students were befriended by George Keyt, then living in Kandy. Canvasses in their home showcase Nihal’s artistic talents, as well as early Keyt paintings, gifts from the artist himself. Later, Nihal served on and supported the George Keyt Foundation in many ways. He was also a lover of, and an authority on film. I remember especially the Audrey Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart classics. If one wished to watch, one had only to visit the Rodrigos and ask- Nihal had an entire collection of those DVDs.

Nihal could speak with authority, in language a lay person could understand, on geopolitics, especially the power changes taking place in an increasingly volatile world. His astuteness on Sri Lanka’s diplomatic relations was ahead of his time.

In the early 1990s, Nihal was Secretary to a high-level Foreign Affairs Study Group (FASG) appointed by President Premadasa and chaired by Dr. Gamani Corea, with Mervyn de Silva, Lakshman Kadirgamar and S.K. Wickremesinghe among its members.

As the Cold War had ended and Asia began emerging as an economic force, Nihal saw that, along with two economically awakening giants China and India, fast developing countries in East and South East Asia would become increasingly important to Sri Lanka for its own future development. He therefore officially co-opted me, from the Central Bank’s Economic Research Department, to provide the FASG with regular statistical updates of Sri Lanka’s economic and trade links with those very countries.

His thinking has proved correct, although I do not think successive Sri Lankan governments gave such astuteness the importance it warranted.

His final diplomatic posting, as Ambassador to China, reflected the enormous respect in which he was held. His time there was invaluable to Sri Lanka. Since his return to Sri Lanka in 2007, he was one of the most sought-after authorities on China in the region. He lectured in academic institutions and was a popular speaker on Sri Lanka’s foreign policy for well over a decade after his retirement.When his health began to deteriorate, he led a quieter life, meeting friends and family in their home, ably cared for by his devoted wife through the years that followed.

Nihal’s and Chitra’s interest in world issues and the arts have been inherited by, and nurtured in both Nandi and Satya, and most likely, Anouk too. Today, where are those delightful six-year olds whose beds I took over all those years ago?

Nandi is Head of Research at the New York Times Magazine, married to Raffi, a senior writer for the New Yorker, and Satya, a senior diplomat in Sri Lanka’s Foreign Service, currently serves as our Ambassador in Rome, with the same charm and professionalism as his father. So, to me, Nihal and Chitra were also role-model parents, giving their twins space to grow and develop their own individual personalities.

Nihal had many admirable qualities, but what I admired most was how his intellect and creative abilities sat so lightly on him. He shared of his knowledge, experience and wisdom without ever acting superior or talking down to anyone; he could turn a tense moment in a discussion and lighten the mood in a wink, with a delightfully witty remark or joke, and always had time to chat and joke with us younger adults, however busy his work schedule.

But Nihal was not all-perfect! It was Chitra, his soul-mate, he relied on so completely for all matters practical and financial, including hosting, entertaining and maintaining their homes all over the world, and for companionship, comfort, peace and harmony, in their own home in Colombo, in the final years of his life.

He will be missed by all who knew him, but we will all treasure memories of a talented, humane individual who made this world a better place. May he rest in peace.

Anila Dias Bandaranaike

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The Essence of the Notion of ‘Father’: A short review of Piyasara Gedara by Liyanage Amarakeerthi

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By Ashanthi Ekanayake

There has been a trend in social media in inquiring of its users what their favourite literary works are and I took some time to explore which poem I might single out as the best of its kind written in English which is of personal significance. I immediately thought of the poem “Daddy” by Sylvia Plath. I made the choice quickly because I had been thinking of it since I began to read Amarakeerthi’s latest novel. The notion of the father and the larger metaphor of the patriarch or the arch patriarch has been something all societies have grappled with since the beginning. Plath declares in the second verse Daddy, “I have had to kill you.” This act of parricide has been a strong metaphor in many literary works and also in the etiological myths of many peoples.

I was initiated to the history of our race and nation as a young child and I remember that I had no qualms about accepting that I came from a lineage which had a certain “lion” in the beginning and that the lion had two children and that they “married” to start our race. Firstly, I heard this story as a young child and “marriage” did not mean much to me, secondly, I was from a generation which was not allowed to question and challenge my “elders and betters.” I was also a somewhat passive and placid child. When it was (unfortunately) my turn to do the honours in initiating my own offspring they were not so gullible. They were appalled and not impressed. They said in one voice “what ignominy to trace one’s beginning to parricide, bestiality and incest.” Fortunately for me I know some “Classics.’ So, my rejoinder was that even the Greeks and Romans have similar accounts and reminded them of Oedipus. Oedipus and Sinhabahu both have to kill their fathers to come into their own, regardless of the fact that Oedipus meets with tragedy. The notion of the patriarch and succession through parricide has been a historical reality and a literary strategy explored by many and has an etiological function.

In this sense the narrative of Piyăsara Gedara by Amarakeerthi Liyanage makes the reader question this accepted notion of the patriarch and also the role of the father/father figure by their presence and absence in the novel itself. Not stopping there Amarakeerthi uses the shadowy and unnamed yet unmistakable character of “sir,” in the novel as a parasitic dramaturge who has a rather overbearing personality. This shadowy figure is mirrored by the introduction of fathers who are not quite fathers in the later chapters. Amarakeerthi has been committed to writing novels experimenting with different styles while touching on themes which are current and relevant. His unhurried creative exercise has always managed to keep the reader engaged in questioning social norms and accepted values and exploring the very politics of the creative enterprise and also recent events. The metaphor borrowed from a renowned stylized stage play is an extended metaphor with the heart room of the Dias home gaining an importance as a significant space. (I refrain from exploring the obvious nationalist aspect because the readers will come to these assumptions on their own.)

Just as there are many fathers, Dias appears to be just like the youngsters in the narrative, lost in the ruminations of what his father might have achieved had he not been in the shadow of the dramaturge who himself remains a shadowy figure in the narrative rather like the murder instrument which is not one. His realisation that his father was not unique and not deserving of many of the accolades that Dias had wanted as a son for his father gives the novel a certain bildungsroman/coming of age quality even though Dias appears to be relatively old. A rather late coming of age for Dias because he has to see that his father was not all that he believed him to be. This aspect of the novel also resonates with the notions of anxiety of influence/anxiety of authorship because Dias whom the playwright wants to rename is in fact doing much of the groundwork in research for the work the person referred only as “sir.” The other fathers are of a variety of types that we encounter in our everyday relationships. The absence of one father encourages one character to become vigilante like. The introduction of the manikin/mannequin or “womannequin” provides an alter-ego to one of the characters who is also described as doll-like.

As always Amarkeerthi’s latest creation is packed with metaphors which keep the reader alert in piecing together the story. He opens the novel using a technique resonant with the ultra-performativity of the current day and age. His narrative has a cinematic quality which is in keeping with the modern experience of a drone capturing the action as it takes place. This makes the novelist appear very powerful, even godlike and the experience makes the reader a viewer in a sense. He ties this narrative strategy in the final few pages and carries it on to the acknowledgement which is rather like watching movie credits roll at the end where he names the cast and crew.

In addition to the dramatic/cinematic quality, the novelist also uses onomatopoeia as a narrative strategy which I will not spoil for those who are yet to read the novel. Among the many themes explored are the

There is an irony in the notion of the patriarch because the very patriarch we challenge literally or figuratively is the one who gives us our name and our being and makes us into who we are, and ultimately renders himself a figure we have to destroy in order to come into our own. All the characters in the novel, main and the relatively insignificant are all used in exploring this metaphor of the father.

Plath says at the end of the poem “Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.” The irony of the presence or absence of the father and the notion of bastardy and the stigma involved and the social necessity of the presence of a father, is an aspect of our lives we will continue to explore in our creative enterprise.

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