Features
HAVE YOU EVER EVEN BEEN TO NEPAL?
(Excerpted from Fallen Leaves, an anthology of memoirs by LC Arulpragasam)
In 1962, I joined FAO as the Land Tenure Officer in its Regional Office in Bangkok. Within six months I was told that I would be sacked within a week unless I retracted a certain position that I had taken on land reform in Nepal. This is the story.
The Government of Nepal had passed a tenancy reform law in 1962, based on the advice of the Ford Foundation (USA). The law provided for security of tenure along with reduced rents for tenants of agricultural land. Its provisions were roughly in the following terms. Whoever is a tenant of an agricultural land on a specified date (x) will have permanent rights of tenancy. Such a tenant cannot be evicted as long as he pays the landlord a rent of 25 per cent of the crop each year. This was as opposed to the 50 per cent of the crop that was habitually being charged by landlords in Nepal at that time. The law was praised in international circles as a brilliant piece of legislation, because it was short and simple, making any legal challenge difficult.
The legislation was sent to me for comments by my boss, Dr. Erich Jacoby, Chief of the Land Tenure Branch of FAO, Rome. I wrote back to say that while the law was short and direct, there was an implicit problem in its very first words, which said: ‘whoever is a tenant of an agricultural land on date x…’ The law did not specify how it would be decided, whether there was a tenant on the land, and how he would be identified. In practice, every landlord would say that there was no tenant on his/her land – and hence there would be no tenants to benefit from this ‘excellent’ law.
One could theoretically fall back on the land records to ascertain who was a tenant on any particular date. But it was known that Nepal did not have such land records – least of all, a record of tenancy. Some identification of each parcel of land, its extent, its ownership and tenancy would be needed for implementing such reforms – and this was completely lacking in Nepal at that time. This is in contrast to the comprehensive system of land records in British India, which provided the basis of its land tax system, whereby all lands were surveyed and registered, showing the names of all owners and their tenants, if any.
There was an even more serious problem. My experience in Sri Lanka showed that landlords would evict their tenants, claiming that they cultivated the land themselves. Or through daily-paid workers, leaving no tenants to benefit from the new law. In a semi-feudal country like Nepal at that time, it was very likely that the tenants would be intimidated by their landlords, through threat of eviction, cut-off of credit or even violence, to make them surrender their rights as tenants. Not being able to defy their landlords, they would even abjectly agree to remain as ‘hidden tenants’ with no rights under the law. In exchange, they would be allowed to continue to cultivate the land, at whatever rent the landlord decreed, and subject to eviction at any time.
Everything would depend on the mechanics by which the tenant of any land was to be identified and recorded, prior to the enforcement of the law. The law, however, by ignoring this fundamental problem, left the tenants worse off than before, subject to immediate eviction by landlords who wished to evade the new law. I had only given my above opinion to my boss, because he had asked for it. I did not know at that time that it would cause an international incident!
About one month later, FAO was informed by the UN Bureau of Public Administration, which was executing the project, that the identification and registration of tenancy rights was to be done by a cadastral surveyor, who would survey and register all agricultural lands. This left the difficult task of recording tenancy rights to a lowly surveyor (called an amin in Nepal), who was paid only the equivalent of US $1 per month at that time, thus making him utterly susceptible to bribery and intimidation. With these probable outcomes in mind, I wrote to my boss, who had again requested my opinion, that the process of registration of tenants proposed by the UN was likely to result in the cadastral surveyor merely recording that there were no tenants on the land (because the landlords had brought pressure on them) leaving no tenants to benefit from the reforms!
Little did we anticipate the reaction of the United Nations Office. First we received a reply from the Director of the UN Bureau of Public Administration, Mr. Coates, stating that such recording of ownership and tenancy rights had been done all the time by cadastral surveyors in India. He claimed that he himself, as an ex-member of the Indian Civil Service (ICS), had on many occasions adjudicated such ownership and tenancy rights based on the cadastral surveyor’s findings ‘under the peepul tree’.
When my boss persisted with my opinion, the UN Headquarters in New York complained directly to the Director-General of FAO that FAO was obstructing their programme on unfounded and uninformed grounds. This was followed also by an official complaint to the Director-General of FAO by the Nepalese Government alleging the same. Unfortunately, the Director-General of FAO, Mr. B.R. Sen had himself been an ex-member of the hallowed Indian Civil Service. He dismissed FAO’s stand as uninformed, stating that he himself had decided such ownership disputes on the basis of cadastral surveys on so many occasions ‘under the peepul tree’! Learning that I was the culprit, he ordered that I go immediately to Nepal and officially apologize and retract FAO’s position. If I did not do this within one week, my employment was to be terminated! At this juncture my boss, the Assistant Director-General in charge of the FAO Regional Office tried to protect me. But when he heard the full story, he was utterly dismayed. Although he was a Pakistani, he too had been a former member of the ICS: how many times, had he too decided such cases, based on a cadastral survey, ‘under the peepul tree’, with no difficulty (that I had predicted) at all!
By this time I did not know which I hated more, the Indian Civil Service or the peepul tree! All the top administrators in the UN system at that time seemed to be British or Indian retirees from the prestigious Indian Civil Service (ICS). So I was beginning to see this as a dispute between the ex-officials of the ICS and myself, from the Ceylon Civil Service (CCS). I still felt that I was right and that they (including my top boss in FAO, the Director-General himself) were wrong.
First, although they knew cadastral survey and land administration, this was not the issue. For the issue was whether the process that they advocated could actually identify and register a tenant under the shadow of land reform. They had actually never done this! Second, whereas they had all decided on ownership and thought that they had decided on tenancy, their inquiries had only been to identify the owners of the land for tax purposes, while completely depending on the landlords to supply the name of the tenant for the full land record.
Whereas the landlords had previously willingly provided the names of their tenants to the Indian Civil Servants, the same landlords now wished to deny that they were any tenants on their land at all! Thus the question was whether the procedures used in India for deciding on ownership for tax purposes would be adequate for deciding on tenancy for land reform purposes! Thirdly, although these top ex-ICS officers had years of experience in land administration, they had no experience of land reform.
Thus their long experience in deciding quite a different issue, in quite a different era, in quite a different social and legal dynamic, was now the biggest obstacle to their understanding the different nature of the problem and of finding a suitable solution. In the end, they turned it into a personal problem. For whereas they had all been to Nepal, it was known that I had not! It got even worse when they saw me, for I looked even younger than my 32 years at that time!
Although I was convinced that I was right, I now had no option but to go – as instructed – to Nepal to eat humble pie and retract my position. I was snubbed by the UNDP Representative in Delhi – and it got worse when I reached Nepal. The Permanent Secretary of the Ministry of Planning refused to see me. I was sent down to the Joint Secretary who was unnecessarily brusque. Although I had decided to capitulate and eat my piece of humble pie, I had to make a pretence of looking into the matter. So I asked to visit a village where the cadastral survey and land registration had already taken place according to the procedures prescribed by the UN. The Joint Secretary asked me where I wished to go. Not knowing anything about Nepal, I jabbed wildly at the map. He remarked drily that I was pointing to the Himalayas, but he could get me as far as Pokhara in the foothills, but that I would have to walk from there!
So I set out early next morning to Pokhara by plane, which in those days landed in a grass field. Accompanied by a senior surveyor who was to be my interpreter and guide, we walked for a full day to get to the village that I had fortuitously chosen. It was a thrilling experience, walking in the silence of the mountains with the snow-clad Himalayan peaks towering above me. In one place, I also had the thunder of water from a subterranean river shaking the ground beneath me. I reached the selected village by nightfall. When I examined the cadastral map and land record prepared by the cadastral surveyor, it showed that all the lands were cultivated by their owners, either as owner-cultivators or through daily-paid workers supervised by them. Since the record showed no tenants, there would be no beneficiaries of the land reform in this village.
The next morning at daybreak, I positioned myself on the path to the fields, so that I could meet the farmers going to and from their fields. I tackled one in about every four farmers, asking more or less the same question: ‘Are you a tenant?’ Every one of them answered that he was either an owner cultivator or a daily-paid worker, although most seemed to be too poor to be owners of their own land. I repeated the process at eventide, when the farmers returned from their fields, but I always received the same reply. I spent the whole of the next day asking the same question and getting the same answer. In desperation, I requested a meeting of all farmers on my last evening in the hope that group dynamics might reveal a glimpse of the true picture. But even at this meeting, I received the same response.
At this point, the only well-dressed man spoke up, saying: ‘Sir, because of your perseverance and hard work, I need to speak out, since none of the others here can afford to do so. These poor men here have been lying to you for the past two days: they are all tenants. They have been informed in advance of your arrival and have been instructed by their landlords to say that they are not tenants. In fact, they have been threatened with eviction and violence – and two of them, even with death’. At these words, there was a babble of voices, all wanting to speak. They burst out that they were indeed tenants, but had been threatened with eviction by their landlords if they claimed the same. I invited each one to speak – and each one said the same thing.
I then took out the already completed cadastral map and went over it with them. I asked the entire group whether there was a tenant on each lot of land, going over all the lots in turn. They unanimously answered: ’Yes, so-and-so is the tenant’ in respect of each lot, with 100 per cent agreement. After recording the name of the tenant and of the owner against each piece of land, I had a new land record made, which was confirmed by the entire village. And it was the exact opposite of that recorded by the cadastral surveyor, following the procedures prescribed by the UN!
Whereas the latter showed that there were no tenants on any of these lands, my records showed that there was 100 per cent tenancy on all lands in this particular village. This meant that if the land reform had proceeded on the basis of the cadastral records prepared by the Government and championed by my own FAO Director-General, there would not have been any tenants to protect and thus no beneficiaries under the land reform law!
Having got the new land record confirmed by the senior surveyor, I then had to walk an extra day to get the endorsement of the Zonal Commissioner. On the next day, in Kathmandu, I had to report my findings to the Joint Secretary, who had also invited Dr. Lindsay, the author of the land reform legislation, to the meeting. They were astounded to find that their system of identifying tenants had provided 100 per cent wrong information. Instead of retracting my position and apologizing to the Government and the UN, I was now able to prove that I had been right all along, even though I had never been to Nepal before!
I also became a favourite of the Ministry at that time. The Minister himself would come to the airport to meet me on each of my subsequent visits. The Government requested me to formulate an FAO project for assistance to its land reform programme. I introduced a new system for the identification of tenants based on the participation of both the tenants and owners through public village meetings – which was adopted by the Government in the 1960s. This episode proved to be a personal and professional triumph for me in the early days, since I had proved even the Director-General of FAO and his Assistant-Director-General for the Asian Region, as well as the UNDP, the UN Bureau of Public Administration, the Ford Foundation and the Government of Nepal, all to be wrong! I was only 32 years old at that time – and had never been to Nepal when I first gave my opinion on the issue.
Features
Partnering India without dependence
Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi once again signaled the priority India places on Sri Lanka by swiftly dispatching a shipload of petrol following a telephone conversation with President Anura Kumara Dissanayake. The Indian Prime Minister’s gesture came at a cost to India, where there have been periodic supply constraints and regional imbalances in fuel distribution, even if not a countrywide shortage. Under Prime Minister Modi, India has demonstrated to Sri Lanka an abundance of goodwill, whether it be the USD 4 billion it extended in assistance to Sri Lanka when it faced international bankruptcy in 2022 or its support in the aftermath of the Ditwah cyclone disaster that affected large parts of the country four months ago. India’s assistance in 2022 was widely acknowledged as critical in stabilising Sri Lanka at a moment of acute crisis.
This record of assistance suggests that India sees Sri Lanka not merely as a neighbour but as a partner whose stability is in its own interest. In contrast to Sri Lanka’s roughly USD 90 billion economy, India’s USD 4,500 billion economy, growing at over 6 percent, underlines the vast asymmetry in economic scale and the importance of Sri Lanka engaging India. A study by the Germany-based Kiel Institute for the World Economy identifies Sri Lanka as the second most vulnerable country in the world to severe food price surges due to its heavy reliance on imported energy and fertilisers. Income per capita remains around the 2018 level after the economic collapse of 2022. The poverty level has risen sharply and includes a quarter of the population. These indicators underline the urgency of sustained economic recovery and the importance of external partnerships, including with India.
It is, however, important for Sri Lanka not to abdicate its own responsibilities for improving the lives of its people or become dependent and take this Indian assistance for granted. A long unresolved issue that Sri Lanka has been content to leave the burden to India concerns the approximately 90,000 Sri Lankan refugees who continue to live in India, many of them for over three decades. Only recently has a government leader, Minister Bimal Rathnayake, publicly acknowledged their existence and called on them to return. This is a reminder that even as Sri Lanka receives support, it must also take ownership of its own unfinished responsibilities.
Missing Investment
A missing factor in Sri Lanka’s economic development has long been the paucity of foreign investment. In the past this was due to political instability caused by internal conflict, weaknesses in the rule of law, and high levels of corruption. There are now significant improvements in this regard. There is now a window to attract investment from development partners, including India. In his discussions with President Dissanayake, Prime Minister Modi is reported to have referred to the British era oil storage tanks in Trincomalee. These were originally constructed to service the British naval fleet in the Indian Ocean. In 1987, under the Indo Lanka Peace Accord, Sri Lanka agreed to develop these tanks in partnership with India. A further agreement was signed in 2022 involving the Ceylon Petroleum Corporation and the Lanka Indian Oil Corporation to jointly develop the facility.
However, progress has been slow and the project remains only partially implemented. The value of these oil storage tanks has become clearer in the context of global energy uncertainty and tensions in the Middle East. Energy analysts have pointed out that strategic storage facilities can provide countries with greater resilience in times of supply disruption. The Trincomalee tanks could become a significant strategic asset not only for Sri Lanka but also for regional energy security. However, historical baggage continues to stand in the way of Sri Lanka’s deeper economic linkage with India. Both ancient and modern history shape perceptions on both sides.
The asymmetry in size and power between the two countries is a persistent concern within Sri Lanka. India is a regional power, while Sri Lanka is a small country. This imbalance creates both opportunities for partnership and anxieties about overdependence. The present government too has entered into economic and infrastructure agreements with India, but many of these have yet to move beyond initial stages. This has caused frustration to the Indian government, which sees its efforts to support Sri Lanka’s development as not being sufficiently appreciated or effectively utilised. From India’s perspective, delays and hesitation can appear as a lack of commitment. From Sri Lanka’s perspective, caution is often driven by domestic political sensitivities and concerns about sovereignty.
Power Imbalance
At the same time, global developments offer a cautionary lesson. The behaviour of major powers in the contemporary international system shows that states often act in their own interests, sometimes at the expense of smaller partners. What is being seen in the world today is that past friendships and commitments can be abandoned if a bigger and more powerful country can see an opportunity for itself. The plight of Denmark (Greenland) and Canada (51st state) give disturbing messages. Analysts in the field of International Relations frequently point out that power asymmetries shape outcomes in bilateral relations. As one widely cited observation by Lord Parlmeston, a 19th century prime minister of Great Britain is that “nations have no permanent friends or allies, they only have permanent interests.” While this may be an overly stark formulation, it captures an underlying reality that small states must navigate carefully.
For Sri Lanka, this means maintaining a balance. It needs to clearly acknowledge the partnership that India is offering in the area of economic development, as well as in education, connectivity, and technological advancement. India has extended scholarships, supported digital infrastructure, and promoted cross border links that can contribute to Sri Lanka’s long term growth. These are tangible benefits that should not be undervalued. At the same time, Sri Lanka needs to ensure that it does not become overly dependent on Indian largesse or drift into a position where it functions as an appendage of its much larger neighbour. Economic dependence can translate into political vulnerability if not carefully managed. The appropriate response is not to distance itself from India, but to broaden its partnerships. Engaging with a diverse range of countries and institutions can provide Sri Lanka with greater autonomy and resilience.
A hard headed assessment would recognise that India’s support is both genuine and interest driven. India has a clear stake in ensuring that Sri Lanka remains stable, prosperous, and aligned with its broader regional outlook. Sri Lanka needs to move forward with agreed projects such as the Trincomalee oil tanks, improve implementation capacity, and demonstrate reliability as a partner. This does not preclude it from actively seeking investment and cooperation from other partners in Asia and beyond. The path ahead is therefore one of balanced engagement. Sri Lanka can and should welcome India’s partnership while strengthening its own institutions, fulfilling its domestic responsibilities, and diversifying its external relations. This approach can transform a relationship shaped by asymmetry into one defined by mutual benefit and confidence.
by Jehan Perera
Features
The university student
This Article is formed from listening to university students from across the country for two research initiatives, one on academic freedom and another on higher education policy. In speaking with students, the fears they carry could not be ignored. Students navigate university education, with anxieties about their future and fears that they and their university education are inadequate, all while managing their families’ daily struggles. I explore students’ anxieties and the extent to which we, the public, and higher education policies must take responsibility for their experiences.
The Neoliberal University
For decades, universities have been transforming. Neoliberal policies, promoted by the World Bank, have reduced public education expenditure and weakened the State’s commitment to public institutions. These policies frame individuals as responsible for their success and failure, minimising structural realities, such as poverty and precarity. They instrumentalise education, treat students as “products” for a “competitive’ job market, while education markets feed on students’ insecurities. Students are made to feel lacking in “soft skills”, or skills seemingly necessary to navigate classed-corporate structures, and lacking in technical skills, or those needed to operate technologies used within the private sector.
Student activists and, sometimes teachers, have challenged this worldview, demanding State commitment to free education. Governments sometimes yield but also fear the consequences of student politics and have long waged campaigns to discredit student activism. It is within this context that students pursue education.
Portrayal of students
A Peradeniya student told me student-organised events must meet “high standards”, because of the negative public perceptions of university students. I understood what she meant; I had heard of our ‘ungrateful’, ‘wasteful’, ‘unemployable’, and ‘entitled’ students. The media and decades of government propaganda have reinforced these depictions.
About 10 years ago, when government moves to privatise higher education were strong, a corporate executive, complaining about traffic caused by “yet another useless protest”, was unable to explain why they protested. News coverage, I realised, framed these protests as public inconveniences, rarely addressing students’ demands. A prominent advocate, of neoliberal educational policy, reinforced this narrative, saying “state university students make up just 10 percent of their cohorts”, gesturing dismissively as if to say their concerns were insignificant. Such language belittles student activists and youth, renders them voiceless and allows their concerns, such as classed worldviews, and access barriers to and privatisation of education, to be easily dismissed.
It is in this environment that the conception of the useless university student, fighting for no reason, has developed. Students must carry this misrepresentation, irrespective of their own involvement in activism.
Not being good enough
Attacks on free higher education and the absence of meaningful reforms designed to address students’ problems, now weigh on students’ minds. Students question whether their education is relevant and current, pointing to outdated equipment, software, and curricula. University administrators acknowledge these constraints, which reflect Sri Lanka’s ranking as one of the lowest in the world for the public funding of education and higher education.
Rarely has the World Bank, so influential in driving educational policy, highlighted the public funding crisis and, instead, emphasises technological deficiencies, the public sector’s “monopoly” of higher education and limited private sector involvement. It downplays the reality that few families can privately afford such funding arrangements.
Students are also bombarded with fee-levying programmes, promising skills and access to jobs, preying on students’ insecurities. Many, while struggling to make ends meet, enrol in off-campus pricy professional courses, such as in accountancy, marketing, or English.
The arts student
Some students worry their education is too theoretical and “Arts-focused.” A student from the University of Colombo described having to justify her decision to pursue an arts degree. The public, she said, saw this as a waste of her time and the country’s resources. She courageously wore this identity, yet questioned if she was, in fact, unemployable as she was being led to believe.
She does not, however, draw on the fact that arts education has long been the “cheap” option that governments have offered when pressured to expand higher education. While arts education may need fewer laboratories and equipment, they require adequate investments on teachers, strong on content and pedagogy, to closely engage with individual students; aspects of arts education which have systematically been disregarded.
As access broadens, particularly in the arts, more students from marginalised backgrounds have entered universities; students who may feel alien in systems aligned with corporate interests. Thus, students quite different from the classed conception of the “employable graduate,” whose education has systematically been under-funded, graduate from arts programmes frustrated, diffident, and ill-suited for jobs to which they are expected to aspire.
The dysfunctional university
Students voice criticisms of their teachers, as myopic, unworldly, and unfair. Their perspective reflects the universities’ culture of hierarchy and its intolerance of difference, on the one hand, and the weak institutional structures on the other. They are symptoms of years of neglect and attempts by governments to delegitimise universities, to shed themselves of the burden of funding higher education through anti-public sector rhetoric.
Some students, marginalised for being anti-rag, women, or ethnic minorities, feel an added layer of burdens. Anti-rag students, or more often, students who do not submit to university hierarchies, whether enforced by students or staff, are ostracised, demeaned and sometimes subjected to violence. Students unable to speak the institution’s dominant language face inadequate institutional support. Women describe being ignored and silenced in student union activities and left out of student leadership positions.
Furthermore, quality assurance processes rarely prioritise academic freedom or students’ right to exist as they wish, except when they complement the process of creating a desirable graduate for the job market. These processes focus on moulding professionals and technicians, as one would form clay, disregarding students’ anxieties from being alienated from themselves by such efforts.
Problems at home
Beyond the campus, parents face debt, illness, and precarious work. Students are acutely aware of these struggles. Some describe parents collapsing from the strain and sometimes leaving them to carry the family’s difficulties. A student described feeling guilty for being at the University while his family struggled to survive. To ease the burden on their families, students earn incomes by providing tuition, delivering food, and carrying out microbusinesses.
Tied to their concerns over having to depend on their families, is their fear of being “unemployable”, a term that places the blame of unemployment on students’ skill deficiencies. Little in this discourse connects the lack of decent work and jobs for them and their parents to the weak economy and job markets into which successive batches of graduates must transition. Much of the available jobs in the country are those that require little in the form of education, and those, too do little to provide a living wage. Students must, therefore, compete for a limited number and breadth of frankly not very desirable work. Yet, it is they who must feel the weight of unemployability.
Committing to students
Universities frequently fail to recognise students’ worries. Instead, we, coopt neoliberal discourses, telling students to become more marketable and competitive, do and learn more, be confident, improve English, learn to inhabit those classed spaces with ease; often without the support that should accompany these messages.
We expect these students, insecure and anxious, to think critically, and demonstrate curiosity and higher-order analyses. When they collapse under the pressure, universities respond by providing mental health services. While such services are needed, they risk individualising and pathologising systemic problems. They represent yet again the inherent flaws with solutions that emerge from neoliberal ideological positions that treat individuals as the source of all success and failure. Such perspectives are likely to reinforce students’ anxieties, rather than address them.
As Sri Lanka revisits education policy reforms, there is an opportunity to change our framings of education and to recognise these concerns of students as central to any policy. The state must renew its commitment to free education and move from the neoliberal logic that has guided successive reform efforts; we, as the public, must restore our hope and expectations from free education. Education across disciplines, the arts, as well as STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics), must be strengthened. Students’ freedom to inhabit university spaces as they wish, must be respected and protected by institutions. Education policies must be tied to broader economic and labour reforms that ensure families can safely earn a living wage and graduates can access a rich range of decent meaningful work.
(Shamala Kumar teaches at the University of Peradeniya)
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
by Shamala Kumar
Features
On the right track … as a solo artiste
Mihiri Chethana Gunawardena is certainly on the right track, in the music scene.
The plus factor, where Mihiri is concerned, is that she has music deeply rooted in her upbringing, and is now doing her thing in the Maldives.
Her father, Clifton Gunawardena, was a student of the legendary Premasiri Kemadasa and former rhythm guitarist of the Super 7 band.
Mihiri took to music, after her higher studies, and her first performance was with her father, while employed.

Mihiri Chethana Gunawardena
After eight years of balancing both worlds – working and music – she chose to follow her true calling and embraced music as her full-time profession.
Over the years, Mihiri has worked with some of the top bands in the local scene, including D Major, C Plus from Negombo, Heat with Aubrey, Mirage, D Zone Warehouse Project and Freeze.
In fact, she even put together her own band, Faith, in 2017, performing at numerous events, and weddings, before the Covid pandemic paused their journey.
What’s more, her singing career has taken her across borders –performing twice in Dhaka, Bangladesh, with the late Anil Bharathi and the late Roney Leitch, and multiple times in the Maldives, including a special New Year’s Eve performance with D Major.

In the Maldives, on a one-month contract
Last year, Mihiri was in Dubai, along with the group Knights, for the Ananda UAE 2025 dance.
She continues to grow as a solo artiste, now working closely with the renowned Wildfire guitarist Derek Wikramanayake, and performing, as a freelance musician, travelling around the world.
Right now, she is in the Maldives, on a one-month contract, marking a new chapter in her evolution as a solo vocalist.
On her return, she says, she hopes to create fresh cover songs and original music for her fans.
Mihiri believes in spreading joy and positivity through her singing, and peace and happiness for everyone around her, and for the world, through music.
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