By Uditha Devapriya
On the way to Moratuwa from Piliyandala you cross the Bolgoda Bridge, where the path bifurcates between the road to Katubedda on your right and the road to Rawathawatta on your left. The road to Rawathawatta is smaller, and yet more crowded: you pass countless furniture shops, fruit and vegetable stalls, fishmongers, and grocery stores, as well as a church and a temple. After driving on for two kilometres, you wind into a suburb called Shramadhana Road, which forks into several small lanes.
This is where Givantha Arthasad lives.
I initially found it difficult to locate him, because of the maze-like lanes that lead to his house. Once I found it, however, all those other houses seemed to vanish before me; this one looked like it stood a world or two apart from them.
A series of steps lead to a lower elevation, with copious shrubs and bushes flanking either side. The veranda, where I sat down to meet the man I had come to talk to, was adorned with so much craftwork and so many designs, including paintings and clay figures, that I could only be awed. I felt like I had walked into a lair.
Givantha Arthasad likes to call himself an artist. What kind of artist? Diplomatically, he refrains from answering. For someone who led so many lives – graphic designing, painting, photography, drama, cinema, television, broadcasting, and journalism – calling him an artist hardly captures his versatility, since his contributions surpass anything a crass generalisation of that sort can lead us to assume. This is his story.
He was born Baminihennedige Givantha Arthasad Peiris in Katunayake to a religiously devout father and mother, both of whom were involved in education: his father, George A. Peiris, was the Scout Commissioner of Sri Lanka, while his mother, Dulcie Peiris, worked as a teacher. “I initially attended Methodist College in my hometown, where my father served as principal, before being sent to Wesley College Colombo from Grade Two.”
Givantha inherited his artistic touch from his parents. “My mother used to bring children in our neighbourhood to our home, where she taught them to make toys, sculpt, and paint for free. Naturally, she taught me too.” His father, on the other hand, taught him “to read newspapers upside down, and to read aloud, paying close attention to the dramatic nuances of a passage.”
With these early encounters, he moved on to Wesley. His first class teacher there had seen him paint, and, since he painted well for his age, had even once remarked, “You shouldn’t have been born in a country like this.” That classteacher was Cyril Wickramage.
He hadn’t been the only staff member who’d encouraged his talent. “My Grade Three class teacher, Mrs Ivy Marasinghe, used to conduct art classes after school which we helped her with. During weekends she took us to watch cartoons. That’s where I encountered the world of animation, from Mickey Mouse to Donald Duck.”
Surprisingly for someone who loved to draw, young Givantha opted for science at Wesley. This became a problem when his studies clashed with his desire to paint and to submit what he painted to various art competitions. The principal of Wesley back then, the renowned educationalist Shelton Wirasinha, had to sign his work before it could be despatched, “and almost every time I went to his office, he’d say something to the tune of ‘Putha, we can’t do this every day, it would be better if you chose art.’”
Not that he cut himself from science. In fact, physics had been one of his favourite subjects. “As I moved up, I graduated from geometry to mechanical drawing. I can’t say these didn’t influence my career. For instance, when we draw, the foundation for our work is the line and the circle. No matter what those who try to divide art and science try to say, there will always be a scientific aspect to drawing. I realised this very early on.”
Still, as he confesses, “Mr Wirasinha’s prodding caused me to wonder whether I ought to be studying science.” Fortunately for him, through the intervention of Wirasinha and Jayantha Premachandra, the head of the Arts Section, he shifted from the science stream to Arts. As for his elders, “my father had wanted me to become a parson due to a promise they’d made to God after the death of my elder brother.” But they gave into his wishes. “After my O Levels, they allowed me to do what I pleased.”
The problem for Givantha was that no institution taught the field he had chosen. “The only place I could go to was Heywood. But Heywood taught music. I realised soon that it wasn’t my cup of tea, so I decided to teach myself.” He reckoned that “an opportunity would come my way.”
The opportunity did come, much sooner than he’d reckoned.
Linus Dissanayake, a doctor turned film producer, had started a small but prominent studio called Dissanayake Studios. It had bankrolled Professor Siri Gunasinghe’s groundbreaking film Sath Samudura in 1967, which featured a breakthrough performance by Givantha’s first class teacher at Wesley, Cyril Wickramage. Three years later the studio financed another landmark production, Vasantha Obeyesekere’s Wes Gaththo, also starring Cyril.
By the time of Wes Gaththo’s release, Givantha had come into contact with Dissanayake, “from whom I borrowed a camera and went on to make a short animated sketch on Andare. The Film Critics’ and Journalists’ Association nominated it for their annual Short Film Festival in 1971, where I competed with Sunil Ariyaratne and Dharmasena Pathiraja.”
Givantha’s next destination was Ceylon Theatres, where, thanks to his friendship with the comedian and singer Freddie Silva, he made contact with “a man called Derrick Fernando, who worked as an official there,” and Titus Thotawatte, “who taught me filmmaking and introduced me to Andrew Jayamanne, who taught me cinematography.”
By now he had made another animated short film, Muhuda Yatin Ira Payayi, which won for him a Jury Prize from the Film Critics’ and Journalists’ Association in 1972. His third attempt, seven years later, would leave behind a much larger imprint on cinema.
That third film, Dutugemunu, was not well received by officials at the time of its release in October 1979, though the few ordinary people who saw it had been thrilled by it. Based on an important episode from Sri Lankan history, its charm lay mainly in the dazzlingly novel way it presented an otherwise serious subject.
“I didn’t follow a conventional narrative,” Givantha tells me. “Instead of relating the story of the hero, I started with an unlikely beginning: a cat visiting the Ruwanwelisaya Dagaba with its kittens, which ask about the story behind its construction. From there the film relates the Mahavamsa version of events. The cat figures in those events because in one of its previous births, it had served as Dutugemunu’s purohita or chaplain.”
Boasting a prominent cast, including influential figures from Givantha’s own childhood (Cyril Wickramage voiced the eponymous hero, while Felix Premawardhana the thespian, who’d taught literature at Wesley, voiced his main soldier, Nandimitra), Dutugemunu concentrated on the hero’s search for the giants in his battle against Elara. With Henry Jayasena voicing Kavantissa and Givantha voicing various other characters, it was tipped to be a watershed. As things turned out though, “audiences barely noticed it.”
The issue hadn’t been with the audiences. It had instead been with political authorities. In 1977 the United National Party had come to power promising, on the one hand, a dharmista samajayak or a ‘righteous society’, and on the other, ethnic coexistence.
According to Givantha, “certain educationists thought the story of Dutugemunu was not amenable to coexistence, given the racialist overtones of his triumph over Elara. They made a complaint to the Education Ministry, which excised the story from textbooks and imposed a ban on any form of propagating it. That is why I was forced to take out my film right after I’d released it.” An avoidable tragedy, because the movie didn’t carry a racist message – “It was entertainment for kids based on Westerns like The Magnificent Seven!” as Givantha puts it – and also because the director had toiled hard to make its characters – including the sunglass-wearing cat that takes us through history – come alive onscreen.
How hard had he toiled, really? Consider that this was a time when digital cinema remained, even in the West, a distant dream. “I had to insert India ink on every frame. In each of my first two films I used more than a thousand such frames. Dutugemunu used more than that. You can imagine the concentration I had to put into these efforts.”
Mercifully, he didn’t have to suffer a loss due to the ban. Far from it, in fact: he tells me that “I bought this house with the compensation I got, for costs incurred on the production, from the authorities after they ordered theatres to stop screening my film.”
The controversy over Dutugemunu notwithstanding, Givantha proceeded to the next phase of his career. Six months before Dutugemunu’s release, television had made its entry to the country. The following year Givantha was sent to study television in Berlin. Upon his return he was posted to the Animation Division of the Sri Lanka Rupavahini Corporation. Later, through a request by the then State Minister Anandatissa de Alwis and then Secretary at the Ministry Sarath Amunugama, he got to work in various other Divisions as well.
In 1987 he tendered his resignation from Rupavahini, two years after he had discovered his eyesight was failing. “Dr Upali Mendis, the head of the Eye Hospital, told me my retina had got damaged, and I’d lose my sight in a few years. He said I would have to live with God. Well, God has been merciful to me. I can see clearly even now,” he tells me.
He also discovered a new career: stamp designing. On the walls of his veranda is a huge poster displaying his most prominent designs, including the 150th anniversary stamp of Royal College and a stamp issued to celebrate the opening of the Victoria Dam. Once again, in a pre-digital era, “drawing these wasn’t the easiest thing to do, even for an artist like me.” For the Victoria Dam stamp, for instance, Givantha had to personally visit and survey the site, “just to come up with a miniature graphical representation.”
In 2001, 22 years after Dutugemunu, Givantha made Sri Lanka’s first digitally animated film: Mahadana Muththayi Golayo Roththayi. Due to the then ongoing war, however, it too passed by unnoticed, though on those who saw it (including an eight year old me), it made a favourable impression. It certainly made an impression on the OCIC. At the 28th OCIC and UNDA Awards Ceremony the following year, it won a Special Jury Prize.
Last year he screened his third feature film – after Dutugemunu and Mahadana Muththayi Golayo Roththayi – called Eureka, for dignitaries and journalists. Unfortunately, it still hasn’t been released. There’s little doubt it’ll pass by noticed this time; in fact there’s reason to believe Givantha will get his long sought after place in the sun that his first two films barely garnered, and his third feature length masterpiece did not, with this newest venture.
The writer Thilakarathna Kuruwita Bandara describes Eureka as an experimental work that may well become “a turning point in the cinema for young directors.” Only time will tell if the film, as a whole, stands up to such an estimation. Until then, we can only wait.
The writer can be reached at email@example.com
50 years of legacy of Police Cadeting at Ananda
By Nilakshan Perera
Prime Minister Sirimavo Bandaranayake wanted to forge a cordial relationship with school children and the Police Department, after carefully studying a similar programme in Singapore and Malaysia. With the support of the then Ministry of Education and the Sri Lanka Police, the Sri Lanka Police Cadet Corps began as an attachment to the Sri Lankan Police Reserve. On 03 July 1972, six schools were selected for the pilot programme; namely Kingswood College Kandy, Mahinda College Galle, Hindu College Jaffna, Ananda College Colombo, Zahira College Gampola and Sangabodhi Vidyalaya Nittambuwa. By 1978, this number rose to 32 Boys’ schools and 19 Girls’ schools.
Each of these individual platoons consisted of 33 cadets. The masters who were in charge of these platoons were considered part of the Police Reserve. They were assigned with the rank of an Inspector (IP) or a Sub Inspector (SI).
Cadet Corps held a selection for the camps. They would participate in annual competitions for squad drills, physical training, first-aid, drama, billet inspection, general knowledge and public relations, best commander, sports and IGP’s Challenge Shield. From these selection camps, the first three winners would be called for the final camp, from which the Island winner was then selected.
When Ananda College was selected for Police Cadetting on 03 July 1972, two of the school’s teachers were appointed as the Officers In-charge of the College Cadet Platoon. They were Mr Lionel Gunasekera and Mr Ariyapala. Later on, Mr W Weerasekera took over from Mr Ariyapala. Both Mr Gunasekera and Mr Weerasekera extended their invaluable and unwavering services for the Cadet Platoon’s success story. Both these gentlemen were there to supervise and train cadets. One could not forget Mr Weerasekera’s 9 Sri 7321 orange coloured Bajaj scooter parked next to the College main canteen. Another teacher, who trained cadets for drama competitions, voluntarily, was the late Mr Lionel Ranwala. He was the talented master who helped cadets to secure wins in the drama competition, year after year, at the annual camps.
The evening before attending the camp, a special “Mal Pooja” was organised to bless the platoon. After this, they would meet the principal, at his office, for another special blessing and a tea party, hosted by the principal himself. The then Principal of Ananda College, Colonel GW Rajapakse, gave his fullest blessings to the Police Cadets. These recognised cadets earned more responsibilities and assumed various leadership roles at the College. Prefects, Deputy Head Prefect, Head Prefect, Big Match Tent Secretaries, and Presidents of various societies were given to Cadets uncontestedly.
The Cadets stayed at the hostel, the night before leaving for camp. Our trunks were loaded into the college van and unloaded at Maradana Railway station. The most valuable trunk in the Cadet’s eyes was the PLATOON BOX. This was so since the box often contained items such as butter cakes, bottles ofcordial, sweets, such as marshmallows, chocolate rolls, and biscuits. This precious box was kept under lock and key and the watchful eyes of two Cadet Corporals.
SSP Prof Nandadasa Kodagoda, SSP P V W de Silva and a few other senior officers from Police HQ often attended as judges for different categories in the annual camp competitions, such as first aid, general knowledge, squad drill and physical training. Both these senior officers would discharge their duties to the rule and spirit.
All first-aid requirements were provided by the college St John’s Ambulance Brigade for all college special events, such as big matches and sports meets. This unit was led by 1979 Corporal Devapriya Perera (IT Professional – London) and most of the first-aiders were Police Cadets. They volunteered their services to the General Hospital Accident Ward and the Sri Pada pilgrims. It was pleasing to see Cadets controlling traffic duties in front of the college, at the Maradana – Borella main road, every morning, from 7.00 am to 7.25 am and helping with traffic duties and car park duties during the college sports meet and other functions.
Police Cadets CR Senanayake (Automobile Engineer-Brisbane), Ravi Mahendra (IT professional), and the late Dharmapriya Silva, established a swimming club that held its training at Otters Swimming Club. The School Bus Travelers Society, organized by the Police Cadets, issued bus seasons tickets for students with the help of CTB officials.
Back then when a teacher had not reported to a class, senior Police Cadets would step in and take turns to teach these classes. Deepal Sooriyaarchchi (Former MD of Aviva, Management Consultant) and Sarath Katangoda (Management Consultant – UK) were the most popular student masters in that era with their popular stories and innovative methods of teaching. This increased the popularity of police cadets among the other students. The way cadets conducted themselves had a very high impact on fellow Anandians, and the number of students attending practices rose rapidly.
On several occasions, Anula Vidyalaya Police Cadets called our Cadets to assist with their training in preparation for their Annual Camps. Having borrowed bus season tickets from students coming to College, via Nugegoda, our senior cadets were looking forward to visiting Anula to train them during school hours. This friendly culture blossoms during camps as well as outside the two schools. We still continue our friendships with Kamal Hathamuney (who joined the Army and retired with the rank of Major, residing in Sweden), Nirmala Perera, Malraji Meepegama (married to Maj Gen Sunil Wanniarachchi), Rosy Ranasekera (married to former Ananda Cadet Band leader Maj Gen Dhananjith Karunaratne) Dilani Balasuriya, (former IGP late Mahinda Balasuriya’s sister – married to Dr Priyanga de Zoysa). Interestingly our Cadet Lanka Herath continued this relationship and found his lifetime partner Ganga Thilakaratne from the Anula Vidyalaya Platoon. A famous school from Kelaniya, St Paul’s Balika Vidyalaya, too, started Police Cadeting in 1980. The writer being 1981 Ananda Sgt found his partner from St Paul’s Balika Cadet Sgt of the same year, Rasadari Jayamaha. Former Dean of the faculty of Law, University of Colombo Prof Indira Nanayakkara and Shiromi Perera (Melbourne) were the Corporals of the same platoon.
In 1972, the College platoon, led by Sgt Ranjith Wijesundara, became the Island’s best platoon. On the 23rd of July, 1983, the Sri Lankan Army’s routine patrol was assigned from Madagal to Gurunagar with the call sign of Four Four Bravo, commanded by 2/Lt A.P.N.C de Waas Gunwardane with 15 soldiers attached to Charlie company of SLLI were ambushed at Thirunelveli in Jaffna. 2/Lt Waas Gunawrdane and 12 soldiers made the supreme sacrifice. Adjutant and Intelligence Officer of SLLI Capt Ranjith Wijesundara was assigned the task of identifying the fallen heroes. Lt Wass Gunawardane was a Cadet of the 1977 platoon. Ranjith Wijesundra is now retired with the rank of Colonel.
In 1975 the College platoon, led by Sgt M A K E Manthriratne, also became the country’s best platoon and he was selected by the National Youth Council to represent the Sri Lanka Police Cadet Corps to travel to Canada under the Youth Exchange Programme between Sri Lanka and Canada. Manthriratne later joined the SL Navy and retired with the rank of Commander. Presently, as the President of Past Cadets, together with the ever-reliable 1982 Sgt V S Makolage carrying out various welfare projects under the banner of the Past Police Cadet Wing of Ananda.
Ananda held an unbroken record of winning nine out of 10 Trophies in 1978, under the great leadership of Sergeant Kithsiri Aponso who undoubtedly took Ananda Police Cadets to greater heights, was a leader with great charisma, integrity and leadership qualities. He became the Deputy Head Prefect and joined the STF. He later moved to the Police dept and is presently appointed as the DIG In Charge of the Badulla region.
The highest rank Cadet could achieve is Sgt Major. There were three Sgt Majors who brought honour and recognition to Ananda, namely Piyal Jayatilake in 1977, Jagathpriya Karunaratne in 1978 and ‘79, and Kithsiri Aponso in 1980. Chinthaka Gunaratne, a Cadet of 1981, also became the athletic Captain in 1983 (presently SSP In Charge of Highways) brought great honour and recognition as he became the Director in Charge of the Sri Lanka Police Cadet Corps.
College Athletic Captain of 1977, Ranasinghe Dharmadasa (Snr Manager BOI), 1978 JPPP Silva (Consultant-USA), 1980 Damitha Vitharana, (joined Sri Lanka Navy and retired as Lt. Commander and was the Director at Lankem Ceylon PLC before migrating to the UK), 1981 Jagath Palihakkara, (joined Sri Lanka Police as a SI in 1982 and at presently acting Senior DIG Western Region). DIG S M Y Senviratne another past Cadet joined the Police and is presently DIG in Charge of the Ampara Region. They also brought pride and joy to their alma mater during their time in their respective platoons and in their subsequent endeavours.
Two Sgts who led the Island’s best Platoons in 1983 Priyantha Ratnayake (Planter) and Pasindu Hearath of 2016 (Undergraduate of Kyoto University, Japan) became Head Prefects and Pasindu was awarded the Fritz Kunz Memorial Trophy for the Most Outstanding Student of 2017. The 4th of July 2017 was a great day for Ananda, as well as for the Police Cadets. 1980 Cadet Sgt who led the Island’s Best Platoon became Commander of the Army. It was a great honour for Cadets. Past Cadets organized a felicitation for Gen Mahesh Senanayake to recognise his prestigious appointment.
With profound gratitude, we remember past Cadets Rear Admiral Noel Kalubowila (a highly rated naval officer decorated with the highest gallantry medals especially having led the “Suicide Express” in 1990 evacuating troops from Jaffna Fort, Major General Lakshan Fernando, Major General Ajith Pallewela, Brig Mahinda Jayasinghe, Maj Aruna Vithanage, Maj Sampath Karuanthilake, Major SP Rodrigo, Lt Bandual Withanachchi, Director Prisons TI Uduwera, SSP Deepthi Hettiarchchi of STF (Zonal Commander Jaffna Mannar, Killinochchi and Mullaithivu), SSP Amal Edirimanne (In Charge of Colombo North) were Cadets who joined the forces, Police and Prison departments, respectively.
Chairman of University Grant Commission Senior Prof Sampath Amaratunge, one of the brilliant academics and a past Cadet, always believed and mentioned that “I am where I am because of my alma mater, and shall forever grateful to my journey”. Other note-worthy past Cadets are Harbor Master Capt Nirmal Silva, Prof Rohan Gunaratna (a political analyst specializing in international terrorism) present President of Ananda OBA, Bimal Wijesinghe who excelled in athletics during annual camps.
When this writer contacted one of our Masters-In-Charge, Mr W Weerasekera, he recalled those golden days. “As a pilot school where Police Cadet platoons were formed, Ananda College played its role in achieving the aims of cadetting as envisaged in the curriculum. It gives me great satisfaction to note the leadership and achievements of the Cadets, their success in later life with the highest contribution to the society at large”
Thanks for the untiring efforts of Hiranya Hewanayake (Senior Manager – Singer Sri Lanka) and Wing Commander Pradeep Kannangara Retd (Former Officer Commanding of the Special Air Borne Unit of Sri Lanka Air Force – Director – General Manager Abans Securitas), all past Cadets who reside all over the world are now well connected, via social media.We cherish the remarkable legacy of Ananda Police Cadetting.
The history of a hostel; the sociology of a school
By Uditha Devapriya
With input from Uthpala Wijesooriya, Pasinadu Nimsara, and Keshan Themira
Archive images courtesy of the J. R. Jayewardene Centre
On July 7, the Hostel of Royal College, Colombo, will be unveiling its annual Day. Organised after seven long years, the Hostel Day will incorporate a number of aesthetic, cultural, and sports events. Many of them have been held over the last two months and a few are yet to be finalised. In the face of an unprecedented economic crisis, it has been a challenge and a triumph to have held them at all. For the residents of the Hostel, it has also been a baptism of fire, no less than a continuation of a long, unbroken tradition.
The Royal College Hostel has not had an unbroken and continuous history. Unlike most public-school boarding establishments, it has been shut down and re-opened. Over the last few decades, it has also witnessed much change. From a historical-sociological perspective, its story provides a unique insight into certain social transformations.
Established on the recommendation of the Colebrooke-Cameron Commission, the first avatar of Royal College, the Colombo Academy, did not open a boarding establishment for its first 30 years. Official records tell us that its first boarding establishment was founded somewhere in the mid-1860s by the then Principal, Barcroft Boake. Considered the leading tutor of his day, Dr Boake felt the need to provide a separate residence “for the sons of planters and Ratemahattayas.” Since the latter crowd made up much of the population in the school, it made sense to open a separate lodging for them.
Boake took an active interest in the boarders. He would join them for breakfast and dinner, sitting at the head of the table. Yet despite his efforts, the number of boarders “never exceeded 36.” Under two subsequent heads of the establishment, George Hawkins and Ashley Walker, it reduced to 10. This was despite a prestigious award at the Academy, the Lorenz Prize, stipulating residence at the boarding as one of its conditions.
In 1881 the Colombo Academy became the Royal College. Much earlier it had anchored at San Sebastian Hill, near the Beira Lake. We are told that around 1905, because of an illness brought on by its proximity to the Lake, the boarding was indefinitely shut down. Six years later, the school shifted to Thurstan Road, in Colombo 7. Official records inform us that past pupils lobbied for the construction of a hostel there. Yet the government of the day, led by several highly conservative officials, rejected their requests. Having spent Rs 250,000 for the shift to the new location, they were in no mood to spend more on a hostel.
In 1931, the country held its first State Council election. Signalling the shift to universal franchise, the first and second State Councils appointed a Board of Ministers who chaired a number of Executive Committees, in various areas of specialisation. Appointed as Minister of Education, C. W. W. Kannangara became the voice of reform in his domain. In 1939, on the eve of World War II, the Royal College Union advanced Rs 1,000 for a new boarding. For this Kannangara gave his approval and blessings. The official roll of the new Hostel that year lists 26 boarders. When it shifted to Bandarawela, in 1941, the number rose to 48. It would increase to 50, five years later, when the school moved back to Colombo.
These were deeply transformative years. Both Royal College and the Hostel felt their impact. In 1939, Kannangara convened a Special Committee on Education. Four years later, it tabled a Report. Among its recommendations was a free education scheme for all children, from school to university. Though opposed by certain groups, Kannangara’s scheme became the cornerstone of the country’s education system. Most significantly, it led to the entry of non-elite groups to leading and elite institutions, including public schools.
Following the War, both Royal College and the Hostel were compelled to accommodate these developments. In 1951, the Minister of Education, E. A. Nugawela, noted that since Kannangara’s proposals, “the Royal College is no more a school for the rich and privileged classes.” Observing that 317 of 519 parents worked as “peons, labourers, chauffeurs, and so on”, he concluded that the school had opened its gates to “the lower-middle class.” Such a trend could not be averted, much less reversed. It accompanied another, more significant transition: the “indigenisation” of colonial institutions.
In 1946, Royal College appointed its first Ceylonese Principal, J. C. A. Corea, who took over from E. L. Bradby. That year it also appointed Bernard Anghie as the Hostel Warden. The records tell us that Anghie breathed new life to the Hostel. His successor, Cecil Belleth, saw through his changes. By the time Belleth retired, in March, 1966, the Hostel had inaugurated various clubs, including Debating Societies and Literary Associations, and recorded several advances and improvements. Fitting enough, today it is so associated with these individuals that the four Hostel houses – Bradby, Corea, Anghie, Belleth – bear their names.
The result of these developments was a rise in the number of Hostellers. In 1961 there were 93 boarders. In 1967, the Hostel was closed, on the orders of the Education Ministry, to be reopened in 1971. Two years later, the number of boarders had increased to 140. By 1979, it had risen to 250, shooting up to 252 in 1986 and 300 in 1992.
The Hostel, as it stands today, consists of about 27 buildings. These include 10 dormitories, with separate quarters for Grade 10 and Grade 11 boarders; a Senior Prefects’ Room; a Library; and a Smart Classroom. Over the last year, a number of these units, including the Music Room and the Bathrooms, have been renovated. Prefects are selected from three batches, numbering 20 in total, of which five are currently in Grade 13. Every student is governed by certain rules and regulations, extending to lunch and sleeping hours. Led by a dedicated staff, including its Warden, Janaka Jayasinghe, they try to keep the place going, adhering to schedules and routines which devolve responsibility on everyone.
As with almost every educational establishment, the Hostel has been forced to keep up with growing demand. As mentioned before, it encountered its biggest spurt between 1977 and 1995. These were years of expansion in the education system, epitomised by the Grade V Scholarship Exam: from 3,629 in 1977, the number of scholarship awards shot up to 22,000 in 1992. Since most, if not all, the Hostellers are Grade V Scholars, the Hostel has effectively become a symbol of mobility, particularly for those whose children obtain the highest scores for the Exam. This is perhaps the most significant development yet.
How does one explain such trends? The shift from colonial to dominion status, and later to republican statehood, in Sri Lanka, was accompanied by a transition in the country’s elite institutions. Yet it remains a paradox – a paradox identified by social scientists – that while power has moved away from the colonial bourgeoisie, the latter’s place has been taken over, not by the poor, but by an intermediate, Sinhala and Tamil speaking class. This has arguably been most evident in elite schools, like Royal College.
Surveying Europe’s education system, the French sociologist Agnès van Zanten has noted the contradiction between the elite background of these schools and the changes they have undergone due to various external pressures. The contradiction here has to do with what she calls the “charters” or “mandates” of these institutions, which have changed with the expectations of dominant groups. As van Zanten correctly notes, these groups have, over the last few decades, radically evolved and transformed.
This is as applicable to Sri Lanka as it is to Europe. Since independence, the country’s elite schools have witnessed a shift from bourgeois and aristocratic ideals to a middle bourgeois ethic, emphasising not family background, but academic merit. Not surprisingly, exams like the Grade V Scholarship have had a say in these developments.
The history of the Royal College Hostel, in that sense, bears testimony to the sociology of Royal College and other secondary schools. From an enclave for “the sons of planters and Ratemahattayas”, it has become a second home for the sons of an upward aspiring, rural middle bourgeoisie. This represents a shift in social, cultural, even political power, not just in the country’s secondary schools, but also in the country itself. Yet for some reason, this is an area that is yet to be examined by social scientists. It should be, especially since it provides a unique and fascinating insight, into the changing face of Sri Lankan society.
(Uditha Devapriya is an international relations analyst, researcher, and columnist who can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Uthpala Wijesooriya [email@example.com], Pasindu Nimsara [firstname.lastname@example.org], and Keshan Themira [email@example.com] are members of the Royal College Hostel Prefects’ Council of 2022)
More than a doctrinal problem:The Buddha and his stepmother
By Uditha Devapriya
The Buddha’s response to Mahaprajapati Gotami’s request for permission to enter the Buddha Sasana forms one of the more controversial episodes in the Buddhist pantheon. The story, as told in countless narratives and chronicles, essentially makes his acceptance of a female Buddhist or Bhikkuni order contingent on two things: his stepmother making the request twice, then traversing a distance of 150 miles with her followers in defiance of his response, and Ananda Thera’s pleas, which eventually convince the Buddha to change his mind.Viewed from a certain perspective, the episode stands out prominently in the Buddha’s life, for two reasons. Firstly, it marks the first time he makes an explicit pronouncement on the role of women within the Buddhist clergy. Secondly, it takes his Chief Attendant to resolve a paradox in that pronouncement: the Buddha doesn’t accept his stepmother’s request, yet he isn’t necessarily opposed to the ordination of Buddhist nuns.
Ananda Thera’s question is very clear on this point: he doesn’t mention specific names, but rather asks whether, in general, women are “capable of realising the state of a stream-winner, never-returner, and an arahant, when they have gone forth from home to the homeless state.” Only after receiving a positive response to his question does Ananda bring up the issue of the Buddha’s stepmother: “If then, Lord, [women] are capable of attaining Saintship, since Maha Pajapati Gotami has been of great service to the Exalted One… it were well, Lord, that women should be given permission …”
In other words, the appeal to personal ties follows from a philosophical question: if women are allowed in, then why not accept Gotami’s request? I find this highly fascinating, for two reasons. Firstly, Buddhist stories usually have the Buddha turn an encounter with a specific individual into a homily or a sermon: thus it is only upon engaging with Sunita that he makes a pronouncement on caste. Similarly, it is his encounter with Sigala that makes him expound his most significant sermon for the laity (the bourgeoisie?). The Dhammacakkana Pavattana Sutra, his first discourse, can in that sense be viewed as a response to the need to convince his first five disciples, residing at Sarnath, of his attainment of Enlightenment. The encounter with his stepmother turns this on its head: it is his philosophical position on a doctrinal issue – in this case, the ordination of women – that resolves the personal encounter.
Secondly, unlike the bulk of the Buddha stories in the Pali and Sinhalese Chronicles, here he changes his mind over a dilemma concerning the Sasana. However, he doesn’t really confess or admit that he was wrong over the issue. Instead, Ananda’s questioning compels him to remark that what holds true in general (women entering the Buddhist order) must hold true in the particular (Mahaprajapati Gotami and her followers entering the Buddhist order). Most crucially, the Buddha doesn’t reach this conclusion on his own: it takes Ananda Thera, his Chief Attendant no less, to help him take the proverbial leap.
To be sure, his encounter with Mahaprajapati Gotami episode is hardly the only one where the Buddha revises his positions and opinions. There is at least one other occasion where he does so: when his father, Suddhodhana, requests him to seek parental permission before ordaining children, and he agrees. This too is a response to a personal encounter: he converts his son, Rahula, without notifying his mother. What is unique about his encounter with his stepmother, however, is that it concerns a doctrinal issue: the question of allowing females into an order seen, until then, as an exclusively male preserve.
Having asked a number of ordinary Buddhists what they thought of this episode, I can only conclude that no one has any real answers to the issue as to why the Buddha had to be led into an ideological impasse for him to agree to admit Buddhist nuns, or Bhikkunis. The Buddha is generally acknowledged as farsighted and pragmatic. He is not one to revise his opinions, even on the request of a person so close as his Chief Attendant. Indeed, even after accommodating his stepmother’s request, he frankly tells Ananda that the admission of nuns would reduce the lifetime of the Dhamma from a thousand to five hundred years. This does not, however, belittle the fact that he accommodates them.
How do these ordinary Buddhists I talked with perceive and resolve this problem? One of them admitted that he had been grappling with it all his life, and that since his Daham Pasal days, he had been trying to find a satisfactory answer, to no avail. On the other hand, my mother, hardly the Daham Pasal going type, suggested that it shows that the Buddha, far from embodying an all-knowing ideal, had to rely on another person – his Chief Attendant – to reach a compromise over a difficult doctrinal issue. This is not an opinion shared by too many Buddhists, since it contradicts their view of the Buddha as infallible and beyond question, but it is shared by several ordinary laypeople I talked with.
In response to what many may see as the Buddha’s inborn prejudice against women – sexism, plain and simple – a leading Buddhist monk-writer has this to say.
“In making these comments, which may not generally be very palatable to womankind, the Buddha was not in any way making a wholesale condemnation of women but was only reckoning with the weaknesses of their sex.” (Venerable Narada Thera, “The Buddha and His Teachings”, Fourth Edition, 1988, Chapter 9, Page 156)
Narada Thera, however, is touching on only one aspect to this controversy. This aspect has been covered by a number of scholars, most prominently by Uma Chakravarti, who in an insightful essay (“Buddhism as a Discourse of Dissent: Class and Gender”) remarks that while the Buddha, in his volte-face over the question of female ordination, reveals his recognition, even acceptance, of women’s potential for salvation, by laying down eight rules, and making a rather pessimistic prediction regarding the Dhamma, he reflects the prejudices of his time, where women were expected to serve a subservient role to men.
Although Chakravarti doesn’t discuss it, the Buddha’s encounter with his former consort, Yashodhara Devi, tells us much about the times he hailed from. Bhikkhu Narada’s account tells us that Yashodhara, upon hearing that he had returned to Kapilavaththu, does not visit him herself, hoping that “the noble Lord Himself will come to my presence.”
When this eventually does happen – he enters her chamber and takes a seat – she goes to great lengths to reverence him, ordering her courtiers to wear yellow garments. When Siddhartha Gautama’s father Suddhodana informs his son of the extraordinary lengths to which she has gone to greet him, the Buddha merely replies, “not only in this last birth, O King, but in a previous birth, too, she protected me and was devoted and faithful to me.” He then goes on to relate the Candakinnara Jatakaya, in effect reiterating and re-emphasising values like loyalty and faithfulness that are seen as ‘becoming’ of women.Chakravarti’s argument is frankly disconcerting, but it is the most accurate from those that tackle this issue which I have read so far. While other scholars, like Kumari Jayawardena, trace Buddhism’s hostility to women, and to female activism, to the Buddhist Revival of the 19th century, in which a socially and culturally conservative (petty) bourgeoise took the lead, Chakravarti traces it to the Buddhist Chronicles that relate the Buddha’s life, as it was lived or is supposed to have been lived, themselves. My only critique of Chakravarti’s approach is that she makes no real attempt to relate those Chronicles – many of which, after all, were written after the Tatagatha’s passing away – to the context of their times.
Of course, one can hardly blame or single out the Buddha for these problems. In any case, the India of the Buddha’s time accepted gender and class oppositions. Moreover, it wasn’t just on issues concerning women where he was, to put it mildly, ambivalent. Even on the thorny issue of caste, he didn’t adopt a straightforward position: while he did condemn Brahmin caste structures, he also added that “by deed is one born a Brahmin”, thereby distancing himself from the kind of political critique of caste pioneered by, inter alia, Ambedkar. I suppose one can make the same case for liberation theologists: Christ, after all, did implore to render unto Caesar’s the things that were Caesar’s, a position liberation theologists would hardly adopt today.This aspect, as I mentioned earlier, has been covered. I am more interested in its doctrinal and philosophical dimensions. For the first and probably only time in his life, the Buddha is admitting to a theoretical lapse without really admitting to it. Perhaps to make up for his shortfall, the Buddha justifies his earlier position by attributing the decline of Buddhism – from a millennium to half a millennium – to the very gender he admits to the order. Even if that is not, according Narada Thera, a “wholesale condemnation of women”, we must admit that between the Buddha’s rejection of Gotami’s request, his acceptance after Ananda’s intervention, and his sober prognosis following his acceptance, there was an intellectual leap. I believe this issue needs to be investigated, more deeply.
(Uditha Devapriya is an international relations analyst, independent researcher, and columnist who can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org)
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