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DROWNING

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(Excerpted from Fallen Leaves, the autobiography of
LC Arulpragasam)

My mother superstitiously told me, when I was about five years old, that I had two whorls on my head/hair (in Tamil ‘rettechuli’) and that therefore I should be careful of water and drowning. She did not allow me to swim in the sea. However, even in my student days, I realized that I had a love of water – lakes, lagoons or seas. It had its dangers too, as my mother’s superstitions seemed to prove. I relate three cases of my brushes with death by drowning.

I Was the Drowning Boy

I was boarded at the Royal College boarding when the whole of Royal College, including the boarding, was taken over by the British Army during World War II. I was forced to go into private boarding houses that happened to be down lanes by the sea. As for school, we had to share the University building with its students, leaving the mornings entirely free for me. Fortunately, I lived near the beach at Kinross Avenue, which gave me the opportunity to swim every day. I thus became a good swimmer by the age of 14, unbeknownst to my parents, who were posted in distant provinces.

The sea at Kinross Avenue had a raft with a diving board about halfway to the reef, which was about 300 yards from the shore. I had never swum to the raft; but one day I managed to swim past it. As the reef was near, I dared myself to swim to it. Having reached the reef (an achievement for me at that time), I challenged myself to swim past it to the open sea! I had hardly gone 20 yards beyond the reef, when I suffered a severe cramp in my right leg. My leg doubled up in pain and my body arched in two. I could not swim, I could not float: I struggled with both arms flailing, but I was going down. There was no use shouting because there was no one near me. I did not shout for help although I knew that I was going to drown – because I knew that it was my own fault. I went down twice, struggling for breath, for life.

Fortunately, a senior at Royal College (Basil Mendis) had seen me, a small boy, swimming to the reef alone. When I crossed the reef, he got alarmed – and watched me closely. When I went down, he shouted desperately to the best swimmers on the raft for help. Thank God, the raft was well positioned and that there was a life-saver on it! He dived off the raft, crossed the reef and reached me – just in time! He held me up physically and curtly ordered me to lie on my back. He held my head with both hands, with his body beneath me and used the back-stroke kick to safely bring me back to the shore – to the applause of the small crowd on the beach. I thanked him to the extent possible while vomiting water from my stomach and lungs.

Years later, while still working in Rome, I happened to be in Sri Lanka on vacation. When I was at the cinema, I saw the man who had saved my life. I recognized him because of his tall athletic build. He left his seat during the interval to go to the bar: I hurried after him. I reminded him how he had saved my life 40 years ago. I found out that his name was ‘Sirimanne’. I bought him a drink and we chatted for a while. It was regrettably brief, with the man who had saved my life 40 years ago.

Saving a Drowning Boy

In the second case where I nearly drowned, there was reversal of roles. Whereas I, the life-saver in this case was 22 years old, while the boy that I managed to save was about 14 years old – a strange reversal of roles. The similarity ends there: I had no training or experience in life-saving, whereas the boy I tried to save clung on to me till I almost drowned.

At that time, I was already working as an Asst. Lecturer in the University, living down Schofield Place by the sea. This gave me the chance to swim in the sea most mornings before going to work. One morning when I went for a swim, there were many on the beach. Among them was a batch of schoolboys about 14 years of age playing in chest-deep water, probably not knowing how to swim. I set about my purpose determinedly – which was to swim to the reef and back, although I was not very fit at that time. I managed to reach the reef, which was about 300 yards from the shore. I turned to swim back. I was halfway to the shore when I heard shouts of ‘Help, Help’! The cries were from the group of boys: one of them had been carried out by the current and was drowning.

The cries came from far to one side, which would have involved my swimming an extra 150 yards. I was unfit and doubted my ability to swim that extra distance. The cries got more urgent and desperate. There were no swimmers out there: so I had to save the boy, or he would die. It was a difficult decision to make: I was already too tired to try. Against my better judgment, knowing nothing about life-saving, I swam to save the boy. But as soon as I reached him, he clung on to me, pinioning both my arms, so that we both went down. I struggled to extricate myself, trying to come up for one last breath, but he continued to hold me down. I somehow managed to free one arm: I punched him in the jaw with all my might. With that, I was able to free myself and come up to breathe. Since there was nothing that I could do to save him, I tried to swim away; but I could not let him drown: so I turned back.

Again the boy clutched me with both arms, bringing me down. This time I consciously hit him hard on the jaw so that he recoiled, letting me go free. By this time we were near the shore: but I had no strength to go on. I remember that the boy was very fair, a Burgher boy.

I also remember that he was wearing khaki shorts with a white cloth belt that was trailing in the water. I knew that if I went near him, his grasp would lead to my death. Fortunately, underwater, I saw a huge wave come sweeping towards the shore. Keeping him at a good distance, I caught his trailing white belt. As the wave crested, I launched him in its path with all my might – to reach the outstretched arms of his friends.

It did not end there for me, however: I still had to reach the shore. All my strength had ebbed. By this time, I was almost vertical in the water, not able to swim even one stroke. I had to wait for the next wave to wash me to the shore. All the boys gathered around to thank me. While they went joyfully home, I lay retching on the beach for almost one hour.

Drowning with a Capsized Boat

I realized that I was a ‘water man’. I actively sought a lake near Rome, where I lived. I was lucky to find a fresh-water lake, only one hour’s drive away, Lake Bracciano (Lago di Bracciano). It was a very large lake, more than 800 feet deep.

I rented a piece of land on the lake and kept a sailboat there. I had never taken sailing lessons; but this did not deter me from sailing. One Sunday afternoon in early spring-time, I set sail with the wind at my back. I had little control over direction, going ‘where the wind listeth’.

I loved to hear the hiss of water at my bow, the whip of the wind in my sails and the gurgle of water in my wake. After some time, I realized that I had come a long way and was in the middle of the lake, about two miles from the shore, and distant from any boat. I decided to turn back. I knew in theory how to turn, but somehow my boat capsized in the strong wind.

Fortunately, I was a good swimmer, but the water was very, very cold in the middle of the lake in early spring. I was able to cling to the boat, which floated because of the air trapped underneath. I had not bothered to put on my life-jacket. Hoping that it would be trapped under the boat, I dived repeatedly for it – and found it.

I noticed for the first time that there was a whistle attached to it – which subsequently saved my life. I did not know how long I could keep my hold on the boat: meanwhile, I had to keep moving because the water was freezing. Although it was afternoon now, I knew that when night came, I would surely drown because my freezing fingers would lose their grip on the boat. I could not be seen by anyone, since I was in the middle of the lake. There was no hope!

Fortunately it was a Sunday – and there was a regatta on the lake. However, the boats had a set course and would never come near me. I had capsized in the middle of the lake – and nobody would see me! I saw a buoy perhaps one mile away from me, around which the boats had to turn to sail to the winning post. If only I could get to within hearing-distance of that buoy, perhaps someone would hear me or see me, before nightfall. I had to be rescued before nightfall or I would surely die.

My only hope was to swim to near the buoy. I had to swim with one hand while pulling the boat with the other, knowing full well that I had to pull the mast and sail under the water too. It was a struggle; but I knew that the alternative was a watery death. So I struggled and struggled, pulling the boat with alternating arms: I must have taken two hours to get near that buoy.

Whenever a boat rounded the buoy, I would blow the whistle with all my might – but to no avail. I was probably too far away from the buoy, while the wind was also against me. So I struggled to get closer to the buoy: even so, with the sound of the wind when they turned, successive boats never heard me. Desperate now, I came up with a new strategy: I needed to sound the whistle just as they turned the tiller and before the sound of the wind filled their sails; otherwise they would never hear me.

By this time, there were only stragglers left in the race. I lay in wait for a straggler: when one came, I blew my whistle desperately, but just at the correct moment. Thank God, they heard me! The crew had to abandon the race in order to rescue me. They were two French girls: they pulled me into their boat, thus saving me from certain death. They decided to save my boat too: they tied my overturned boat to theirs and towed it along, with the sails under the water too.

There could not have been a better ending to my escapade. I thanked the girls profusely in my broken French and regretted that they had to give up their race in order to save me. I limped home, none the worse for wear. Fortunately, my wife was not in Rome to hear of my misadventure!

Perhaps my mother’s superstition about drowning was almost true. Or perhaps I was working too hard (courting drowning experiences) to make it come true!



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Ethnic-related problems need solutions now

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President Dissanayake in Jaffna

In the space of 15 months, President Anura Kumara Dissanayake has visited the North of the country more than any other president or prime minister. These were not flying visits either. The president most recent visit to Jaffna last week was on the occasion of Thai Pongal to celebrate the harvest and the dawning of a new season. During the two days he spent in Jaffna, the president launched the national housing project, announced plans to renovate Palaly Airport, to expedite operations at the Kankesanthurai Port, and pledged once again that racism would have no place in the country.

There is no doubt that the president’s consistent presence in the north has had a reassuring effect. His public rejection of racism and his willingness to engage openly with ethnic and religious minorities have helped secure his acceptance as a national leader rather than a communal one. In the fifteen months since he won the presidential election, there have been no inter community clashes of any significance. In a country with a long history of communal tension, this relative calm is not accidental. It reflects a conscious political choice to lower the racial temperature rather than inflame it.

But preventing new problems is only part of the task of governing. While the government under President Dissanayake has taken responsibility for ensuring that anti-minority actions are not permitted on its watch, it has yet to take comparable responsibility for resolving long standing ethnic and political problems inherited from previous governments. These problems may appear manageable because they have existed for years, even decades. Yet their persistence does not make them innocuous. Beneath the surface, they continue to weaken trust in the state and erode confidence in its ability to deliver justice.

Core Principle

A core principle of governance is responsibility for outcomes, not just intentions. Governments do not begin with a clean slate. Governments do not get to choose only the problems they like. They inherit the state in full, with all its unresolved disputes, injustices and problemmatic legacies. To argue that these are someone else’s past mistakes is politically convenient but institutionally dangerous. Unresolved problems have a habit of resurfacing at the most inconvenient moments, often when a government is trying to push through reforms or stabilise the economy.

This reality was underlined in Geneva last week when concerns were raised once again about allegations of sexual abuse that occurred during the war, affecting both men and women who were taken into government custody. Any sense that this issue had faded from international attention was dispelled by the release of a report by the Office of the Human Rights High Commissioner titled “Sri Lanka: Report on conflict related sexual violence”, dated 13.01.26. Such reports do not emerge in a vacuum. They are shaped by the absence of credible domestic processes that investigate allegations, establish accountability and offer redress. They also shape international perceptions, influence diplomatic relationships and affect access to cooperation and support.

Other unresolved problems from the past continue to fester. These include the continued detention of Tamil prisoners under the Prevention of Terrorism Act, in some cases for many years without conclusion, the failure to return civilian owned land taken over by the military during the war, and the fate of thousands of missing persons whose families still seek answers. These are not marginal issues even when they are not at the centre stage. They affect real lives and entire communities. Their cumulative effect is corrosive, undermining efforts to restore normalcy and rebuild confidence in public institutions.

Equal Rights

Another area where delay will prove costly is the resettlement of Malaiyaha Tamil communities affected by the recent cyclone in the central hills, which was the worst affected region in the country. Even as President Dissanayake celebrated Thai Pongal in Jaffna to the appreciation of the people there, Malaiyaha Tamils engaged in peaceful campaigns to bring attention to their unresolved problems. In Colombo at the Liberty Roundabout, a number of them gathered to symbolically celebrate Thai Pongal while also bringing national attention to the issues of their community, in particular the problem of displacement after the cyclone.

The impact of the cyclone, and the likelihood of future ones under conditions of climate change, make it necessary for the displaced Malaiyaha Tamils to be found new places of residence. This is also an opportunity to tackle the problem of their landlessness in a comprehensive manner and make up for decades if not two centuries of inequity.

Planning for relocation and secure housing is good governance. This needs to be done soon. Climate related disasters do not respect political timetables. They punish delay and indecision. A government that prides itself on system change cannot respond to such challenges with temporary fixes.

The government appears concerned that finding new places for the Malaiyaha Tamil people to be resettled will lead to land being taken away from plantation companies which are said to be already struggling for survival. Due to the economic crisis the country has faced since it went bankrupt in 2022, the government has been deferential to the needs of company owners who are receiving most favoured treatment. As a result, the government is contemplating solutions such as high rise apartments and townhouse style housing to minimise the use of land.

Such solutions cannot substitute for a comprehensive strategy that includes consultations with the affected population and addresses their safety, livelihoods and community stability.

Lose Trust

Most of those who voted for the government at the last elections did so in the hope that it would bring about system change. They did not vote for the government to reinforce the same patterns that the old system represented. At its core, system change means rebalancing priorities. It means recognising that economic efficiency without social justice is a short-term gain with long-term costs. It means understanding that unresolved ethnic grievances, unaddressed wartime abuses and unequal responses to disaster will eventually undermine any development programme, no matter how well designed. Governance that postpones difficult decisions may buy time, but lose trust.

The coming year will therefore be decisive. The government must show that its commitment to non racism and inclusion extends beyond conflict prevention to conflict resolution. Addressing conflict related abuses, concluding long standing detentions, returning land, accounting for the missing and securing dignified resettlement for displaced communities are not distractions from the government programme. They are central to it. A government committed to genuine change must address the problems it inherited, or run the risk of being overwhelmed when those problems finally demand settlement.

by Jehan Perera

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Education. Reform. Disaster: A Critical Pedagogical Approach

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PM Amarasuriya

This Kuppi writing aims to engage critically with the current discussion on the reform initiative “Transforming General Education in Sri Lanka 2025,” focusing on institutional and structural changes, including the integration of a digitally driven model alongside curriculum development, teacher training, and assessment reforms. By engaging with these proposed institutional and structural changes through the parameters of the division and recognition of labour, welfare and distribution systems, and lived ground realities, the article develops a critical perspective on the current reform discourse. By examining both the historical context and the present moment, the article argues that these institutional and structural changes attempt to align education with a neoliberal agenda aimed at enhancing the global corporate sector by producing “skilled” labour. This agenda is further evaluated through the pedagogical approach of socialist feminist scholarship. While the reforms aim to produce a ‘skilled workforce with financial literacy,’ this writing raises a critical question: whose labour will be exploited to achieve this goal? Why and What Reform to Education

In exploring why, the government of Sri Lanka seeks to introduce reforms to the current education system, the Prime Minister and Minister of Education, Higher Education, and Vocational Education, Dr. Harini Amarasuriya, revealed in a recent interview on 15 January 2026 on News First Sri Lanka that such reforms are a pressing necessity. According to the philosophical tradition of education reform, curriculum revision and prevailing learning and teaching structures are expected every eight years; however, Sri Lanka has not undertaken such revisions for the past ten years. The renewal of education is therefore necessary, as the current system produces structural issues, including inequality in access to quality education and the need to create labour suited to the modern world. Citing her words, the reforms aim to create “intelligent, civil-minded citizens” in order to build a country where people live in a civilised manner, work happily, uphold democratic principles, and live dignified lives.

Interpreting her narrative, I claim that the reform is intended to produce, shape, and develop a workforce for the neoliberal economy, now centralised around artificial intelligence and machine learning. My socialist feminist perspective explains this further, referring to Rosa Luxemburg’s reading on reforms for social transformation. As Luxemburg notes, although the final goal of reform is to transform the existing order into a better and more advanced system: The question remains: does this new order truly serve the working class? In the case of education, the reform aims to transform children into “intelligent, civil-minded citizens.” Yet, will the neoliberal economy they enter, and the advanced technological industries that shape it, truly provide them a better life, when these industries primarily seek surplus profit?

History suggests otherwise. Sri Lanka has repeatedly remained at the primary manufacturing level within neoliberal industries. The ready-made garment industry, part of the global corporate fashion system, provides evidence: it exploited both manufacturing labourers and brand representatives during structural economic changes in the 1980s. The same pattern now threatens to repeat in the artificial intelligence sector, raising concerns about who truly benefits from these education reforms

That historical material supports the claim that the primary manufacturing labour for the artificial intelligence industry will similarly come from these workers, who are now being trained as skilled employees who follow the system rather than question it. This context can be theorised through Luxemburg’s claim that critical thinking training becomes a privileged instrument, alienating the working class from such training, an approach that neoliberalism prefers to adopt in the global South.

Institutional and Structural Gaps

Though the government aims to address the institutional and structural gaps, I claim that these gaps will instead widen due to the deeply rooted system of uneven distribution in the country. While agreeing to establish smart classrooms, the critical query is the absence of a wide technological welfare system across the country. From electricity to smart equipment, resources remain inadequate, and the government lags behind in taking prompt initiative to meet these requirements.

This issue is not only about the unavailability of human and material infrastructure, but also about the absence of a plan to restore smart normalcy after natural disasters, particularly the resumption of smart network connections. Access to smart learning platforms, such as the internet, for schoolchildren is a high-risk factor that requires not only the monitoring of classroom teachers but also the involvement of the state. The state needs to be vigilant of abuses and disinformation present in the smart-learning space, an area in which Sri Lanka is still lagging. This concern is not only about the safety of children but also about the safety of women. For example, the recent case of abusive image production via Elon Musk’s AI chatbox, X, highlights the urgent need for a legal framework in Sri Lanka.

Considering its geographical location, Sri Lanka is highly vulnerable to natural disasters, the frequency in which they occur, increasing, owing to climate change. Ditwah is a recent example, where villages were buried alive by landslides, rivers overflowed, and families were displaced, losing homes that they had built over their lifetimes. The critical question, then, is: despite the government’s promise to integrate climate change into the curriculum, how can something still ‘in the air ‘with climate adaptation plans yet to be fully established, be effectively incorporated into schools?

Looking at the demographic map of the country, the expansion of the elderly population, the dependent category, requires attention. Considering the physical and psychological conditions of this group, fostering “intelligent, civic-minded” citizens necessitates understanding the elderly not as a charity case but as a human group deserving dignity. This reflects a critical reading of the reform content: what, indeed, is to be taught? This critical aspect further links with the next section of reflective of ground reality.

Reflective Narrative of Ground Reality

Despite the government asserting that the “teacher” is central to this reform, critical engagement requires examining how their labour is recognised. In Sri Lanka, teachers’ work has long been tied to social recognition, both utilised and exploited, Teachers receive low salaries while handling multiple roles: teaching, class management, sectional duties, and disciplinary responsibilities.

At present, a total teaching load is around 35 periods a week, with 28 periods spent in classroom teaching. The reform adds continuous assessments, portfolio work, projects, curriculum preparation, peer coordination, and e-knowledge, to the teacher’s responsibilities. These are undeclared forms of labour, meaning that the government assigns no economic value to them; yet teachers perform these tasks as part of a long-standing culture. When this culture is unpacked, the gendered nature of this undeclared labour becomes clear. It is gendered because the majority of schoolteachers are women, and their unpaid roles remain unrecognised. It is worth citing some empirical narratives to illustrate this point:

When there was an extra-school event, like walks, prize-giving, or new openings, I stayed after school to design some dancing and practice with the students. I would never get paid for that extra time,” a female dance teacher in the Western Province shared.

I cite this single empirical account, and I am certain that many teachers have similar stories to share.

Where the curriculum is concerned, schoolteachers struggle to complete each lesson as planned due to time constraints and poor infrastructure. As explained by a teacher in the Central Province:

It is difficult to have a reliable internet connection. Therefore, I use the hotspot on my phone so the children can access the learning material.”

Using their own phones and data for classroom activities is not part of a teacher’s official duties, but a culture has developed around the teaching role that makes such decisions necessary. Such activities related to labour risks further exploitation under the reform if the state remains silent in providing the necessary infrastructure.

Considering that women form the majority of the teaching profession, none of the reforms so far have taken women’s health issues seriously. These issues could be exacerbated by the extra stress arising from multiple job roles. Many female teachers particularly those with young children, those in peri- or post-menopause stages of their life, or those with conditions like endometriosis may experience aggravated health problems due to work-related stress intensified by the reform. This raises a critical question: what role does the state play in addressing these issues?

In Conclusion

The following suggestions are put forward:

First and foremost, the government should clearly declare the fundamental plan of the reform, highlighting why, what, when, and how it will be implemented. This plan should be grounded in the realities of the classroom, focusing on being child-centred and teacher-focused.

Technological welfare interventions are necessary, alongside a legal framework to ensure the safety and security of accessing the smart, information-centred world. Furthermore, teachers’ labour should be formally recognised and assigned economic value. Currently, under neoliberal logic, teachers are often left to navigate these challenges on their own, as if the choice is between survival or collapse.

Aruni Samarakoon teaches at the Department of Public Policy, University of Ruhuna

Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.

By Aruni Samarakoon

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Smartphones and lyrics stands…

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Diliup Gabadamudalige: Artistes can stay at home and hire their avatar for concerts, movies, etc.

Diliup Gabadamudalige is, indeed, a maestro where music is concerned, and this is what he had to say, referring to our Seen ‘N’ Heard in The Island of 6th January, 2026, and I totally agree with his comments.

Diliup: “AI avatars will take over these concerts. It will take some time, but it surely will happen in the near future. Artistes can stay at home and hire their avatar for concerts, movies, etc. Lyrics and dance moves, even gymnastics can be pre-trained”.

Yes, and that would certainly be unsettling as those without talent will make use of AI to deceive the public.

Right now at most events you get the stage crowded with lyrics stands and, to make matters even worse, some of the artistes depend on the smartphone to put over a song – checking out the lyrics, on the smartphone, every few seconds!

In the good ole days, artistes relied on their talent, stage presence, and memorisation skills to dominate the stage.

They would rehearse till they knew the lyrics by heart and focus on connecting with the audience.

Smartphones and lyrics stands: A common sight these days

The ability of the artiste to keep the audience entertained, from start to finish, makes a live performance unforgettable That’s the magic of a great show!

When an artiste’s energy is contagious, and they’re clearly having a blast, the audience feeds off it and gets taken on an exciting ride. It’s like the whole crowd is vibing on the same frequency.

Singing with feeling, on stage, creates this electric connection with the audience, but it can’t be done with a smartphone in one hand and lyrics stands lined up on the stage.

AI’s gonna shake things up in the music scene, for sure – might replace some roles, like session musicians or sound designers – but human talent will still shine!

AI can assist, but it’s tough to replicate human emotion, experience, and soul in music.

In the modern world, I guess artistes will need to blend old-school vibes with new tech but certainly not with smartphones and lyrics stands!

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