by Admiral Ravindra
C Wijegunaratne(Retired from Sri Lanka Navy)
Former Chief of Defence Staff and Commander of the Sri Lanka NavyThe Former Sri Lanka’s High Commissioner to Pakistan
(The 60th Anniversary of Sri Lanka Navy Diving and Salvage Unit falls on 11th January 2025. The writer commanded it in 1987.) 

A distinguished old boy of Trinity College, Kandy, who excelled both in studies and sports, young Shanthi Bahar joined the Sri Lanka Navy to 3rd Intake of Cadets in 1974. Then, he was 19 years old. He became a UK qualified Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) underwater expert and Mine Clearance Diver (MCD) besides being a crack marksman, both rifle and pistol and winner of the first President’s Cup in Practical Pistol firing meet in 1984. The late President J. R Jayewardene, whose son, Ravi who introduced Practical Pistol Firing Sport to Sri Lanka, was so impressed with Shanthi’s ability and presented him with a .45 Colt Gold Cup Pistol as a gift. It is now on display at our Olympic standard Navy firing range at Welisara. In addition, he was a Navy Coloursman in Sailing and Rowing, who took part in International Sailing Regattas. His knowledge on jungle warfare and small arms was considered exceptional. He was an avid reader. There was no Internet and he used to order Jungle Warfare and gun manuals and magazines through his mother in Hawaii, USA.

 All junior officers, especially trainees like me at the time were afraid of him. However, after I worked under him onboard the Light House Relief Vessel Pradeepa, and after taking part in Basses Lighthouse relief work, he had a lot of faith in me. When we anchored our ship at Uda Potthana bay, we would take a Gemini craft and go to the Yala National Park (Yala block 2). I used to follow him in this jungle terrain. I became his follower at a very junior level. He had noticed my love for the fishing rod and guns, and started teaching me about guns and jungle warfare. I am yet to see a marksman holding a six- battery torch with one hand,.22 caliber rifle with the other, aim and fire at night. Such was Lt. Bahar’s marksmanship! To develop such skills, you require very strong upper body strength and agility. Anyway, he was a Mine Clearance Diver, trained in the UK with huge lung capacity and very strong arms. His breathing was controlled to near perfection when he fired the weapon. This hand-eye coordination of Lt Bahar came with hard work and training. He would never miss his target. When in action against an enemy in close quarters he believed more in accuracy of his repeater shotgun on his right hand than the US manufactured 5.56mm M-16 Carbine slung on his shoulder. With MCD and EOD knowledge, he made his own IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices).

 I am extremely grateful to him for what he taught me because these skills and knowledge stood me in good stead while I was training the Special Boat Squadron (SBS – Naval Commando Unit) in November 1993.

 Lt Commander Shanthi Bahar died during a small group operation in Ichchantivu, Muttur on 15 Jan. 1986. He led a 10-man team to target EROS local terrorist leadership and terrorist safe house in Muttur/Ichchantivu sector. All 10 in his team were junior sailors trained by him personally for months. The Divers of SLN helped him to travel from the Naval Base Trincomalee to Muttur in their Diving Unit Dinghy boat and silently landed them near the target area at night. They eliminated eight terrorists (including their leader), but Lt Commander Bahar and his Muslim informant died in an enemy grenade attack. We lost a great naval officer.

 The most senior man among those brave 10 junior sailors, Naval Patrolman (then) KG Samaratunga took over command following the demise of Lt Commander Bahar, regrouped the men and returned to R/V point of Diving Unit boat, carrying the body of Lt Commander Bahar. Later, Samaratunga said with tears welling up in his eyes, “Sir, I did exactly what Bahar Sir had asked me to. He said that if he died, I had to take over the Command and take the boys back to safety.” Samaratunga rose up to Master Chief Petty Officer later and was my Master-at-Arms while I was commanding the SBS in 1993. He gained his commission in 1999 and retired as a Lieutenant. He is now engaged in organic farming in Pannala. Great sailors! Unsung heroes!

 Lt Commander Bahar was promoted to rank of Commander posthumously and awarded the Rana Wickrama Medal for individual bravery in the face of enemy action.

 I salute my guru!

Dr Upul Wijewardhana has recently written an article referring Dr Anton Jayasuriya as an ‘imposter/pretender”. Although Anton (Kara) Jayasuriya and I graduated in 1954, he was technically my senior by one year, (since the MBBS took one year longer than the BSc (Special).

Jayasuriya was a legend in his time, and his wit and diabolical skill, made him a deft demolisher of the staid and reserved image of the typical doctor.

I remember him “boasting” that he was the only person who had been “struck off the list” of medical professionals three times, no less. (I cannot vouch for the accuracy of this assertion), but again, either way it was Trade Mark “Kara.”

In those days, the “Block Social” was a key event on the university calendar. It marked the movement of students from the basic training in anatomy and physiology into the rarified world of ward rounds, hospitals and operating theaters,

The key attraction was the ‘Block Concert’, where brief skits of wit and wry humour dominated. In today’s jargon, they would be “Adults Only” stuff. They were clever, witty and topical.

It was reported that the major Script Writer, Producer and Director was the talented “Kara”.

At the time, the buzz words among the Medico’s were

“Complementary or Alternative Medicine.” Apparently, President JRJ was an ardent supporter of the idea. It did not take long for Dr “Kara” to tap this enthusiasm to set up “The International Institute of Complementary Medicine” with “Lord, Pandit, Professor, Doctor, Sir Anton Jayasuriya as Vice Chancellor.” (as he called himself as the author of a very readable book titled “The Sweet Success of Diabetes Control”)

In a fuller rendering of his Academic excellence, follow over 25 lines, these include MBBS (Cey) BSc (Tor), D Phys Med, RCP (Lond) RCS (Eng), M AC F (Sri Lanka) PhD, F Ac F (India), DLitt, DSc (Peking) And a Diploma in Acupuncture (Peking).

This attracted a large number of young hopefuls along with large amounts of dollars, to support a lavish lifestyle, complete with Rolls Royce cars, etc.

The number of “graduands and doctors” were many, including a few spectacularly unworthy ones. When I inquired about that from the late Prof. Carlo Fonseka, his simple answer was that there was such a rush for Ph. D (Honoris Causa) that the best way to cope with it was to award one to a least deserving and most despicable scoundrel available to deter the more deserving ones who would recoil from being placed in such company. It apparently worked.

But there was a flipside. A large number of Italians who had spent a fortune to become “doctors,” were aggrieved by being refused jobs because the awarding institute was not a recognised one. They looked to our Embassy in Rome for help. Nothing could be done, other than to seek the advice of our University Grants Commission, which, as expected, replied that these qualifications had no validity, as the body concerned was not one accredited to award such degrees,

Dr. Wijewardhana was perhaps right in referring to this bold and talented entrepreneur as a “Pretender”. Nevertheless, ‘Kara’ was an amusing and engaging one, who “beat the system”!

Dr.  Upatissa  Pethiyagoda

The name was a conversation piece. He was known as ‘Lenin,’ but that was actually an afterthought. Born Hirohito Edward Jayasinghe to a radical communist—Jones Alexander Jayasinghe—and his Eurasian bride, Myra Nesta Crutchley, my father underwent a name substitution just two days before his first birthday in October 1937. His parents dropped “Hirohito Edward” and replaced it with ‘Lenin’ and ‘Lindbergh.’

What was Lenin like? How did he influence his family and friends? Did he follow the great Russian leader? For much of his life, he was sympathetic to the communist state. He embraced leftist trade union activism throughout his career in the postal department. He also became a defence counsel, a legal representative for public servants facing disciplinary action and built a considerable practice. In the true socialist spirit, his services were free—the only fee was the ‘batta,’ the official stipend, he collected as a public servant and a huge reservoir of goodwill.

My brother, Lakal, and I grew up in a home imbued with egalitarian values. The most impressionable time of our childhood was during Mrs Bandaranaike’s rationing regime when each household had ration books—one per person. Among other items, everyone was entitled to a quarter pound (100 grams) of sugar a month. Lenin was a true leftist and embraced the bitter austerity as a necessary hell for a better future.

Early in their marriage, my mother, Latha, feared that Lenin would use all his names in the order they were given—Hirohito Edward Lenin Lindbergh (HELL). Theirs was a love marriage made in heaven, but ‘HELL’ being part of it was not what my mother had bargained for—or so she told us.

One-year old Lenin sporing a beret with the Hammer and Sickle emblem

My father became better known by his new first name, Lenin. On his first birthday, he was photographed wearing a beret adorned with the hammer and sickle, the symbol of the world communist movement. This was considered an act of defiance at a time when communists were not tolerated in British-ruled Ceylon. That was six years before the launch of the Communist Party of Ceylon in 1943. Jones Alexander Jayasinghe was reportedly arrested for defying the colonial authorities. How he escaped trouble is unclear, but family photos place Jones Alexander in the company of many figures at the forefront of Ceylon’s independence movement. Jones Alexander was a friend of the then-young Pieter Keuneman, who went on to become the Secretary of the Communist Party of Ceylon as well as trade union stalwart H. G. S. Ratnaweera.

Lenin was initially named ‘Hirohito,’ apparently because my grandfather admired the Japanese emperor. I have been unable to verify claims that he was among the first to use a Japanese-made Datsun model ‘DB,’ a 722 cc petrol-powered car that was infamous for its lack of reliability, unlike the Western-made vehicles dominating the British Empire at the time. The second name, Edward, honoured the UK’s King Edward VIII, who had ascended the throne in January 1936, ten months before my father was born. The two later names, Lenin and Lindbergh, were substituted a year later, though the reasons for this change remain unclear.

This was likely because Jones Alexander Jayasinghe had begun to rebel against colonial rule and opposed imperial Japan. The substituted names reflected his leanings towards Red Russia and the global human interest story of Charles Lindbergh after the murder of his baby. The name ‘Lindbergh’ referred to the American aviator who completed the first solo transatlantic flight in his aircraft, Spirit of St. Louis. The kidnapping and subsequent murder of Lindbergh’s 20-month-old son in 1932 had shocked the world and was widely known in Ceylon at the time of my father’s birth four years later.

My mother may also be the exception that proved the rule that marriage won’t make a man change. A promise to give up alcohol if she married him was kept, and Lenin never touched spirits—until I cajoled him into enjoying a glass of white wine. Giving up alcohol underscored my mother’s spirited determination to instil some discipline in him. A nasty motorcycle accident that saw him flying over the Dehiwala roundabout and narrowly escaping death shortly before his wedding may also have contributed to his temperance.

However, my father’s greatest failing was his inability to give up smoking. Unable to make him quit cigarettes, my mother, in a tit-for-tat move, threatened to cut off her long hair—something my father was ready to accept in exchange for continuing to smoke two to three packets of ‘Three Roses,’ the popular filter-less cigarettes, daily. After a life-changing heart bypass surgery in 1999, he finally gave up chain-smoking—at least in public.

Lenin’s heart and kidney-related health issues later in life were blamed on cigarettes. Neither my brother nor I developed any interest in smoking or drinking.

With my father being a postmaster and my mother a mathematics teacher, we learned to be frugal and count our blessings. Given the country’s economic circumstances at the time, with import restrictions being the norm, there was little pressure to buy things and no one was spoilt for choice. Most Sri Lankans endured the same miseries. Replacing a headlamp on my father’s old English motorcycle, which he had bought second-hand before his marriage, required hours in a queue at the State Trading Corporation. Even then, it was only possible after collecting approvals from several local officials to prove that the Velocette MAC motorcycle had a fused headlamp.

Even in tough times, my parents instilled in us the importance of helping others and sharing—a practice they continued until their dying days. I also owe my driving skills to my father, who would place me on the petrol tank of the 350cc single-cylinder motorcycle and let me take the controls when I was just 10 years old. Two decades later, he repeated this with my son, Navin on a newer, faster Honda 250N. After an accident that resulted in both my parents fracturing their limbs, my father reluctantly gave up his beloved two-wheelers for the safety of four wheels, though he was never comfortable driving cars.

Looking back, I am amazed at how I used to sneak out the heavy motorcycle for joyrides, even when both my feet couldn’t reach the ground. But those were quieter times when there were few private vehicles on the road, and a 10-year-old on a motorcycle didn’t pose much risk to himself or others.

As the younger of two sons, I rebelled by pursuing a career path that did not align with my teacher mother’s expectations of academic excellence. “My youngest son is a reporter at the Daily News, but my other son is a graduate,” she would tell her friends and colleagues, underscoring both her disappointment and pride simultaneously. But as years passed and I became a foreign correspondent, she came to terms with her youngest son’s high-risk but low-paying career, taking comfort in an astrologer’s not entirely accurate prediction that I would be a “writer known overseas.” Even after her retirement, she continued to teach neighbourhood children as part of her social work until Lenin’s passing in January 2018. With her beloved partner gone, she steadily declined and passed away in her sleep three years later on November 15, 2021.

On 10 January 2025, we marked the seventh death anniversary of Lenin Lindbergh Jayasinghe – a steadfast egalitarian, dedicated public servant, and a man whose influence left an indelible mark on all who knew him.

Amal Jayasinghe