Features
Issues of co-ordination during the 1971 insurgency
(Excerpted from the autobiography of MDD Peiris, Secretary to the Prime Minister)
A major responsibility I took upon myself during this period (of the 1971 insurrecton) was to co-ordinate essential services such as food distribution; the movement of petroleum products; electricity, water; and transport. I, of course, had enough experience of handling food distribution. Some of the same principles and part of the same drill could be applied to some of the other sectors.
In a way food was the most important. Long curfew hours not only restricted food movements, but also gave very little time for the mass of the population to buy their essentials such as rice, flour and sugar from their co-operative, or authorized dealer point. During the few hours available for shopping, there were large and somewhat restive crowds at cooperative stores in particular. It was clear that if food was not available at these points or the service was not efficient, there would be panic.
The many thousands of these points particularly the ones in Colombo and some of the major cities had to be regularly stocked. This was to a great extent solved after much negotiations by arranging for curfew passes for lorries. The next problem was the quick clearance of the queues at the co-operatives. If this was not done quickly enough there would be panic and even rioting. The last thing the country could afford were food riots.
Since the great majority of the people came for small quantities at a time of food items such as flour, sugar dhal etc, very often in portions of a quarter pound or half pound, it was essential that such commodities were pre-weighed, packeted and kept ready for instant sale. In the conditions that prevailed, slow weighing and distribution after the stores had opened for a few hours before the re- imposition of the curfew, would have led to general unrest. Such unrest would have complicated the security situation immensely.
Here again the public service rose to the occasion. More specifically, wives of public servants. Many of them were organized into voluntary groups, and they helped the store employees to weigh and packet essential food commodities, often working through the night. A serious crisis was thus averted. Much of the experience I gained from the operation was put to very good use later during the troubled times in 1983, when I found myself as Secretary to the Ministry of Food and Co-operatives.
One evening at about 8 p.m. I walked to the main building of Temple Trees, from the administrative block in order to see the Prime Minister. When I reached the verandah I was surprised to see a familiar figure pacing up and down. It was Mr. JR Jayewardene. I did not know why he had come, so I went up and spoke to him. He was both distressed and angry. I was quite surprised to learn that his son had been taken in under the emergency regulations.
He wanted to see the Prime Minister immediately. She was at a meeting inside, but when she was informed of the development, she came out and met Mr. Jayewardene. The Prime Minister listened patiently to an angry father. It was decided that his son would be released on a personal guarantee given by him. I had many things to do, and to this day I do not know why Mr. Jayewardena’s son was taken in.
The Public Service and the Secretary to the Prime Minister
For over a month since the beginning of the insurrection, life was hectic. I worked from Temple Trees. I hardly went to the Senate office. I insisted that normal and routine correspondence be attended to. The curfews, the disruptions and the tensions were not to be made an excuse. These were the instructions given to the Secretaries of the Ministries and Heads of Departments as well. The restoration of public confidence was important. The machinery of government had to be seen to be functioning normally, even whilst under extraordinary strain.
This was also a period of many stories and rumours, some of them quite dramatic, or perhaps more accurately, melodramatic. The most effective antidote to this was the visible and manifest functioning of government, in matters small and big; in routine functioning as well as in the efficient delivery of essential services. The public service worked under great strain during this time.
Out in the districts, the Government Agents had to provide leadership in a much less secure environment than in Colombo, to solve a multiplicity of problems. These included not only maintaining essential supplies and services vital to the life of the community, but also the co-ordination of the civilian and military aspects of the restoration and maintenance of security.
Secretaries and heads of departments had to constantly monitor matters relating to their areas of responsibility, and liase with the Government Agents and their area field officers. The Secretary to the Prime Minister, who in any case, was in an apex situation, had, when relevant, in consultation with the Prime Minister and Cabinet, and singly most of the time to address a large number of issues that came pouring in from the rest of the public service.
Most of the matters that came up concerned problems faced by various public agencies, which required an early, if not an immediate response. Some questions were extraordinary, and manifested a state of paranoia. For instance, the question as to whether one should not blow up or otherwise seriously disable a major bridge, so as to isolate Colombo and so better protect it!
All this meant over a month of going home, in most instances well past 2 a.m. to be back in harness by about 8.30 a.m. the same day. In the hours in between, on many a day, there were telephone calls at home. Physiologically, I had crossed the border from a feeling of sleepiness, to sleeplessness, or inability to sleep.
Going home at those early morning hours was also a nerve wracking experience. I had to cross the Bambalapitiya/Wellawatte bridge over the canal on Galle Road, near the Savoy cinema. The whole area was in pitch darkness because the security forces guarding the bridge had switched off all the road lights. They had also placed some old double decker buses right across the bridge at some points, so that any vehicle crossing the bridge had to navigate in the pitch dark along a narrow and meandering path, using only the lights of the vehicle.
Lurking in the shadows were armed personnel with automatic weapons, and one never knew how much sleep or rest they have had, and in what condition their nerves were. Approaching the bridge was an eerie experience. Confronted with this major hazard on my route home, I managed to get a police car for the journey. The police also very kindly arranged for a police sergeant to accompany me. They did not trust a mere police driver.
The reason for this added precaution was perhaps the rumours circulating at the time, that the JVP would come in various disguises, including in hijacked police cars. The sergeant seemed to be a hardened veteran. He had fundamentally uncomplicated views about what to do to the JVP. He said that they were like a “cancer,” and had therefore to be “completely eradicated.”
We were already thinking of an appeal by the Prime Minister to the youth to lay down their arms, as well as various schemes of rehabilitation, leading on to employment. I was naturally not prepared to share these views with a fundamentalist police sergeant, into whose hands I had temporarily entrusted my life!
In recording momentous events, one is always faced with the problem of selection. Thereafter, the problem arises as to how much of the selected areas one should dwell on. There are areas which could be of special interest or significance to smaller numbers, the narration and analysis of which would call for separate monographs or booklets. For instance an extended analysis of the immense effort of co-ordinating so many disparate areas of vital activity; the role of institutions and personalities; and achievements and mistakes, could be of great interest to the practicing public servant.
It would be in a way a unique series of case studies. There are many such areas. Unfortunately, however, there is no place for such detailed work, in a general memoir. Therefore, I will leave the subject of the insurgency of 1971, with only one other observation. This pertains to the manner in which the Prime Minister, Mrs. Bandaranaike functioned during this tense and testing period.
To the Prime Minister too, the insurgency came as a shock. There was no precedent of such an outbreak within living memory or even beyond. This wave washed over a government which had come into office with an unprecedented two-thirds majority. a government which contained within its fold the two major established left parties of the country.
As far as the traditional left parties were concerned, revolutionary rhetoric had been subsumed in a process of evolution in the intricacies of constitutional government. Left leaders like Dr. N.M. Perera. and Dr. Colvin R.de Silva, were widely known and acknowledged to be authorities on parliamentary practice, and experts on the interpretation of Erskine May the “Bible” of Parliamentary procedure. It was widely stated that they would have made excellent Ministers in a British Labour government.
It was in this intellectual climate that the JVP shock was administered. Did it presage the rise of a new, militant. revolutionary left? Or was it an untidy bundle of rural disparities, caste oppression, the frustration of unemployment, and naive idealism emerging in a fascist garb’? It was the latter theory that the traditional left subscribed to. As far as they were concerned, they constituted the left. The JVP could not be anything other than a fascist aberration.
But whatever the theories, the country was now faced with an episode of hard reality, the real and deadly practice of, if not revolution, an insurrection. It fell to the Prime Minister, both as Prime Minister and Minister of Defence to orchestrate a practical response to this very real peril.
The PM and the handling of the Insurgency
In this moment of unprecedented and grave danger, the Prime Minister was calm., collected, indefatigable and totally focussed. She was an oasis of calm in an arid desert of rumour and panic. The despondency and fear in the faces of most of the Ministers were visible and to a significant extent contagious. After some time. the Prime Minister had to virtually order them out of Temple Trees, with the remark that if they were wanted, they would be sent for. I remember her telling some of them, “you are spreading panic here.
The Prime Minister worked closely with the operations room and the Defence authorities. Sometimes she spent time in the operations room. listening to the radio messages and the telephone calls. That way, she received first hand information about the evolving situation. The Trade Unions were mobilized, and she spent important time with their leaders. There were also various civic groups who were helping out in various ways and she found time to see some of them. The main party in opposition, the United National Party lent its support to the government during this moment of great national peril. There were meetings of the Security Council morning and evening. Most of the meetings went on for long. I myself did not attend these meetings. It was not necessary for operational purposes that the Secretary to the Prime Minister should attend these meetings. In any case, I was far too busy co-ordinating a very large area of civilian activity to afford the time to spend hours at Security Council meetings.
If there was any important policy issue arising from these meetings, the Prime Minister in many instances discussed matters with me. What I marveled most about. was the ability of the Prime Minister to keep going hour after hour. never looking tired, or as far as I was aware, never losing concentration. She was clearly in charge; clearly in control; and in fact solely in charge. She listened carefully, and decided quickly. There were no committees.
When the Cabinet met, the Ministers were briefed by the Prime Minister, strictly on a need to know basis. She was not prepared to reveal to the Cabinet or anyone else sensitive plans and operational details. She was the dominating and decisive influence, and it was a common saying that the Prime Minister was “the only man in the Cabinet.” I was to realize during this period that all these qualities and attributes were grounded on a deeper philosophical base.
In the early days of the insurgency. when the government had not yet gained substantial control over the situation, and when the Prime Minister’s own life was in danger, for one was not sure at the time of the degree of infiltration of the armed services and the police, and whether some guard armed with an automatic weapon at Temple Trees was one of the JVP cadres. the Prime Minister calmly contemplated her own death. She was composed and reflective. She told me that one had to face calmly whatever comes. She said that she had a heavy duty to perform, and that one had to perform one’s duty irrespective of consequences.
“Even if they kill me.” she said, “I want in my mind to be clear that I had done my duty to the best of my ability. I know my religion!” This was not a public statement she made. It was something that came out of her spontaneously in a grave and reflective moment. She was more deeply immersed in Buddhism than most people knew. I became aware that she spent some time in the shrine room unfailingly every morning.
Features
How Black Civil Rights leaders strengthen democracy in the US
On being elected US President in 2008, Barack Obama famously stated: ‘Change has come to America’. Considering the questions continuing to grow out of the status of minority rights in particular in the US, this declaration by the former US President could come to be seen as somewhat premature by some. However, there could be no doubt that the election of Barack Obama to the US presidency proved that democracy in the US is to a considerable degree inclusive and accommodating.
If this were not so, Barack Obama, an Afro-American politician, would never have been elected President of the US. Obama was exceptionally capable, charismatic and eloquent but these qualities alone could not have paved the way for his victory. On careful reflection it could be said that the solid groundwork laid by indefatigable Black Civil Rights activists in the US of the likes of Martin Luther King (Jnr) and Jesse Jackson, who passed away just recently, went a great distance to enable Obama to come to power and that too for two terms. Obama is on record as owning to the profound influence these Civil Rights leaders had on his career.
The fact is that these Civil Rights activists and Obama himself spoke to the hearts and minds of most Americans and convinced them of the need for democratic inclusion in the US. They, in other words, made a convincing case for Black rights. Above all, their struggles were largely peaceful.
Their reasoning resonated well with the thinking sections of the US who saw them as subscribers to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, for instance, which made a lucid case for mankind’s equal dignity. That is, ‘all human beings are equal in dignity.’
It may be recalled that Martin Luther King (Jnr.) famously declared: ‘I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up, live out the true meaning of its creed….We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.’
Jesse Jackson vied unsuccessfully to be a Democratic Party presidential candidate twice but his energetic campaigns helped to raise public awareness about the injustices and material hardships suffered by the black community in particular. Obama, we now know, worked hard at grass roots level in the run-up to his election. This experience proved invaluable in his efforts to sensitize the public to the harsh realities of the depressed sections of US society.
Cynics are bound to retort on reading the foregoing that all the good work done by the political personalities in question has come to nought in the US; currently administered by Republican hard line President Donald Trump. Needless to say, minority communities are now no longer welcome in the US and migrants are coming to be seen as virtual outcasts who need to be ‘shown the door’ . All this seems to be happening in so short a while since the Democrats were voted out of office at the last presidential election.
However, the last US presidential election was not free of controversy and the lesson is far too easily forgotten that democratic development is a process that needs to be persisted with. In a vital sense it is ‘a journey’ that encounters huge ups and downs. More so why it must be judiciously steered and in the absence of such foresighted managing the democratic process could very well run aground and this misfortune is overtaking the US to a notable extent.
The onus is on the Democratic Party and other sections supportive of democracy to halt the US’ steady slide into authoritarianism and white supremacist rule. They would need to demonstrate the foresight, dexterity and resourcefulness of the Black leaders in focus. In the absence of such dynamic political activism, the steady decline of the US as a major democracy cannot be prevented.
From the foregoing some important foreign policy issues crop-up for the global South in particular. The US’ prowess as the ‘world’s mightiest democracy’ could be called in question at present but none could doubt the flexibility of its governance system. The system’s inclusivity and accommodative nature remains and the possibility could not be ruled out of the system throwing up another leader of the stature of Barack Obama who could to a great extent rally the US public behind him in the direction of democratic development. In the event of the latter happening, the US could come to experience a democratic rejuvenation.
The latter possibilities need to be borne in mind by politicians of the South in particular. The latter have come to inherit a legacy of Non-alignment and this will stand them in good stead; particularly if their countries are bankrupt and helpless, as is Sri Lanka’s lot currently. They cannot afford to take sides rigorously in the foreign relations sphere but Non-alignment should not come to mean for them an unreserved alliance with the major powers of the South, such as China. Nor could they come under the dictates of Russia. For, both these major powers that have been deferentially treated by the South over the decades are essentially authoritarian in nature and a blind tie-up with them would not be in the best interests of the South, going forward.
However, while the South should not ruffle its ties with the big powers of the South it would need to ensure that its ties with the democracies of the West in particular remain intact in a flourishing condition. This is what Non-alignment, correctly understood, advises.
Accordingly, considering the US’ democratic resilience and its intrinsic strengths, the South would do well to be on cordial terms with the US as well. A Black presidency in the US has after all proved that the US is not predestined, so to speak, to be a country for only the jingoistic whites. It could genuinely be an all-inclusive, accommodative democracy and by virtue of these characteristics could be an inspiration for the South.
However, political leaders of the South would need to consider their development options very judiciously. The ‘neo-liberal’ ideology of the West need not necessarily be adopted but central planning and equity could be brought to the forefront of their talks with Western financial institutions. Dexterity in diplomacy would prove vital.
Features
Grown: Rich remnants from two countries
Whispers of Lanka
I was born in a hamlet on the western edge of a tiny teacup bay named Mirissa on the South Coast of Sri Lanka. My childhood was very happy and secure. I played with my cousins and friends on the dusty village roads. We had a few toys to play with, so we always improvised our own games. On rainy days, the village roads became small rivulets on which we sailed paper boats. We could walk from someone’s backyard to another, and there were no fences. We had the freedom to explore the surrounding hills, valleys, and streams.
I was good at school and often helped my classmates with their lessons. I passed the General Certificate of Education (Ordinary Level) at the village school and went to Colombo to study for the General Certificate of Education (Advanced Level). However, I did not like Colombo, and every weekend I hurried back to the village. I was not particularly interested in my studies and struggled in specific subjects. But my teachers knew that I was intelligent and encouraged me to study hard.
To my amazement, I passed the Advanced Level, entered the University of Kelaniya, completed an honours degree in Economics, taught for a few months at a central college, became a lecturer at the same university, and later joined the Department of Census and Statistics as a statistician. Then I went to the University of Wales in the UK to study for an MSc.
The interactions with other international students in my study group, along with very positive recommendations from my professors, helped me secure several jobs in the oil-rich Middle Eastern countries, where I earned salaries unimaginable in Sri Lankan terms. During this period, without much thought, I entered a life focused on material possessions, social status, and excessive consumerism.
Life changes
Unfortunately, this comfortable, enjoyable life changed drastically in the mid-1980s because of the political activities of certain groups. Radicalised youths, brainwashed and empowered by the dynamics of vibrant leftist politics, killed political opponents as well as ordinary people who were reluctant to follow their orders. Their violent methods frightened a large section of Sri Lanka’s middle class into reluctantly accepting country-wide closures of schools, factories, businesses, and government offices.
My father’s generation felt a deep obligation to honour the sacrifices they had made to give us everything we had. There was a belief that you made it in life through your education, and that if you had to work hard, you did. Although I had never seriously considered emigration before, our sons’ education was paramount, and we left Sri Lanka.
Although there were regulations on what could be brought in, migrating to Sydney in the 1980s offered a more relaxed airport experience, with simpler security, a strong presence of airline staff, and a more formal atmosphere. As we were relocating permanently, a few weeks before our departure, we had organised a container to transport sentimental belongings from our home. Our flight baggage was minimal, which puzzled the customs officer, but he laughed when he saw another bulky item on a separate trolley. It was a large box containing a bookshelf purchased in Singapore. Upon discovering that a new migrant family was arriving in Australia with a 32-volume Encyclopaedia Britannica set weighing approximately 250 kilograms, he became cheerful, relaxed his jaw, and said, G’day!
Settling in Sydney
We settled in Epping, Sydney, and enrolled our sons in Epping Boys’ High School. Within one week of our arrival from Sri Lanka, we both found jobs: my wife in her usual accounting position in the private sector, and I was taken on by the Civil Aviation Authority (CAA). While working at the CAA, I sat the Australian Graduate Admission Test. I secured a graduate position with the Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) in Canberra, ACT.
We bought a house in Florey, close to my office in Belconnen. The roads near the house were eerily quiet. Back in my hometown of Pelawatta, outside Colombo, my life had a distinct soundtrack. I woke up every morning to the radios blasting ‘pirith’ from the nearby houses; the music of the bread delivery van announcing its arrival, an old man was muttering wild curses to someone while setting up his thambili cart near the junction, free-ranging ‘pariah’ dogs were barking at every moving thing and shadows. Even the wildlife was noisy- black crows gathered on the branches of the mango tree in front of the house to perform a mournful dirge in the morning.
Our Australian neighbours gave us good advice and guidance, and we gradually settled in. If one of the complaints about Asians is that they “won’t join in or integrate to the same degree as Australians do,” this did not apply to us! We never attempted to become Aussies; that was impossible because we didn’t have tanned skin, hazel eyes, or blonde hair, but we did join in the Australian way of life. Having a beer with my next-door neighbour on the weekend and a biannual get-together with the residents of the lane became a routine. Walking or cycling ten kilometres around the Ginninderra Lake with a fit-fanatic of a neighbour was a weekly ritual that I rarely skipped.
Almost every year, early in the New Year, we went to the South Coast. My family and two of our best friends shared a rented house near the beach for a week. There’s not much to do except mix with lots of families with kids, dogs on the beach, lazy days in the sun with a barbecue and a couple of beers in the evening, watching golden sunsets. When you think about Australian summer holidays, that’s all you really need, and that’s all we had!
Caught between two cultures
We tried to hold on to our national tradition of warm hospitality by organising weekend meals with our friends. Enticed by the promise of my wife’s home-cooked feast, our Sri Lankan friends would congregate at our place. Each family would also bring a special dish of food to share. Our house would be crammed with my friends, their spouses and children, the sound of laughter and loud chatter – English mingled with Sinhala – and the aroma of spicy food.
We loved the togetherness, the feeling of never being alone, and the deep sense of belonging within the community. That doesn’t mean I had no regrets in my Australian lifestyle, no matter how trivial they may have seemed. I would have seen migration to another country only as a change of abode and employment, and I would rarely have expected it to bring about far greater changes to my psychological role and identity. In Sri Lanka, I have grown to maturity within a society with rigid demarcation lines between academic, professional, and other groups.
Furthermore, the transplantation from a patriarchal society where family bonds were essential to a culture where individual pursuit of happiness tended to undermine traditional values was a difficult one for me. While I struggled with my changing role, my sons quickly adopted the behaviour and aspirations of their Australian peers. A significant part of our sons’ challenges lay in their being the first generation of Sri Lankan-Australians.
The uniqueness of the responsibilities they discovered while growing up in Australia, and with their parents coming from another country, required them to play a linguistic mediator role, and we, as parents, had to play the cultural mediator role. They were more gregarious and adaptive than we were, and consequently, there was an instant, unrestrained immersion in cultural diversity and plurality.
Technology
They became articulate spokesmen for young Australians growing up in a world where information technology and transactions have become faster, more advanced, and much more widespread. My work in the ABS for nearly twenty years has followed cycles, from data collection, processing, quality assurance, and analysis to mapping, research, and publishing. As the work was mainly computer-based and required assessing and interrogating large datasets, I often had to depend heavily on in-house software developers and mainframe programmers. Over that time, I have worked in several areas of the ABS, making a valuable contribution and gaining a wide range of experience in national accounting.
I immensely valued the unbiased nature of my work, in which the ABS strived to inform its readers without the influence of public opinion or government decisions. It made me proud to work for an organisation that had a high regard for quality, accuracy, and confidentiality. I’m not exaggerating, but it is one of the world’s best statistical organisations! I rubbed shoulders with the greatest statistical minds. The value of this experience was that it enabled me to secure many assignments in Vanuatu, Fiji, East Timor, Saudi Arabia, and the Solomon Islands through the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund after I left the ABS.
Living in Australia
Studying and living in Australia gave my sons ample opportunities to realise that their success depended not on acquiring material wealth but on building human capital. They discovered that it was the sum total of their skills embodied within them: education, intelligence, creativity, work experience and even the ability to play basketball and cricket competitively. They knew it was what they would be left with if someone stripped away all of their assets. So they did their best to pursue their careers on that path and achieve their life goals. Of course, the healthy Australian economy mattered too. As an economist said, “A strong economy did not transform a valet parking attendant into a professor. Investment in human capital did that.”
Nostalgia
After living in Australia for several decades, do I miss Sri Lanka? Which country deserves my preference, the one where I was born or the one to which I migrated? There is no single answer; it depends on opportunities, prospects, lifestyle, and family. Factors such as the cost of living, healthcare, climate, and culture also play significant roles in shaping this preference. Tradition in a slow-motion place like Sri Lanka is an ethical code based on honouring those who do things the same way you do, and dishonour those who don’t. However, in Australia, one has the freedom to express oneself, to debate openly, to hold unconventional views, to be more immune to peer pressure, and not to have one’s every action scrutinised and discussed.
For many years, I have navigated the challenges of cultural differences, conflicting values, and the constant negotiation of where I truly ‘belong.’ Instead of yearning for a ‘dream home’ where I once lived, I have struggled, and to some extent succeeded, to find a home where I live now. This does not mean I have forgotten or discarded my roots. As one Sri Lankan-Australian senior executive remarked, “I have not restricted myself to the box I came in… I was not the ethnicity, skin colour, or lack thereof, of the typical Australian… but that has been irrelevant to my ability to contribute to the things which are important to me and to the country adopted by me.” Now, why do I live where I live – in that old house in Florey? I love the freshness of the air, away from the city smog, noisy traffic, and fumes. I enjoy walking in the evening along the tree-lined avenues and footpaths in my suburb, and occasionally I see a kangaroo hopping along the nature strip. I like the abundance of trees and birds singing at my back door. There are many species of birds in the area, but a common link with ours is the melodious warbling of resident magpies. My wife has been feeding them for several years, and we see the new fledglings every year. At first light and in the evening, they walk up to the back door and sing for their meal. The magpie is an Australian icon, and I think its singing is one of the most melodious sounds in the suburban areas and even more so in the bush.
by Siri Ipalawatte
Features
Big scene for models…
Modelling has turned out to be a big scene here and now there are lots of opportunities for girls and boys to excel as models.
Of course, one can’t step onto the ramp without proper training, and training should be in the hands of those who are aware of what modelling is all about.
Rukmal Senanayake is very much in the news these days and his Model With Ruki – Model Academy & Agency – is responsible for bringing into the limelight, not only upcoming models but also contestants participating in beauty pageants, especially internationally.
On the 29th of January, this year, it was a vibrant scene at the Temple Trees Auditorium, in Colombo, when Rukmal introduced the Grey Goose Road To Future Model Hunt.

Tharaka Gurukanda … in
the scene with Rukmal
This is the second Model Hunt to be held in Sri Lanka; the first was in 2023, at Nelum Pokuna, where over 150 models were able to showcase their skills at one of the largest fashion ramps in Sri Lanka.
The concept was created by Rukmal Senanayake and co-founded by Tharaka Gurukanda.
Future Model Hunt, is the only Southeast Asian fashion show for upcoming models, and designers, to work along and create a career for their future.
The Grey Goose Road To Future Model Hunt, which showcased two segments, brought into the limelight several models, including students of Ruki’s Model Academy & Agency and those who are established as models.
An enthusiastic audience was kept spellbound by the happenings on the ramp.

Doing it differently
Four candidates were also crowned, at this prestigious event, and they will represent Sri Lanka at the respective international pageants.
Those who missed the Grey Goose Road To Future Model Hunt, held last month, can look forward to another exciting Future Model Hunt event, scheduled for the month of May, 2026, where, I’m told, over 150 models will walk the ramp, along with several designers.
It will be held at a prime location in Colombo with an audience count, expected to be over 2000.
Model With Ruki offers training for ramp modelling and beauty pageants and other professional modelling areas.
Their courses cover: Ramp walk techniques, Posture and grooming, Pose and expression, Runway etiquette, and Photo shoots and portfolio building,
They prepare models for local and international fashion events, shoots, and competitions and even send models abroad for various promotional events.
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