Features
Lesser-known Stories from the Early Days of Sri Lankan Cinema
The Silenced Era
by Hasini Haputhanthri
(From Shared ENCOUNTERS in Myanmar, Sri Lanka and Thailand – International Centre for Ethnic Studies)
A Gentleman from Jaffna
Watching Sound of Music at Rio Cinema, Colombo was an unforgettable childhood recollection for Swarna Pathirage. “My favorite song was ‘Sixteen Going on Seventeen’ where Liesel jumps from bench to bench in the summer house with Rolf,” she says.
Swarna is now sixty-two, a matriarch , and busy with her grandchild. The memory swiftly takes her to her childhood and at the center of this memory is one Mr Dharmalingam, affectionately referred to as Dharme uncle.
Dharme uncle was a paying guest, or ‘a boarder’ in Swarna’s home for many years. They are a Sinhalese Buddhist family from Kalutara, a town two hours South of Colombo and Mr Dharmalingam was a Tamil Hindu gentleman from Jaffna. Dharme uncle was the manager of Rio Cinema, Colombo. This meant royal treatment every time the family visited Rio for a show.
“Dharme uncle always had icy chocs for us at the show. We used to eat it in the airconditioned cinema, with our teeth chattering. He used to tell us that eating ice cream in the AC actually makes you feel warmer. And it’s true!” says Swarna.
In the 1970s in Ceylon, the world’s first woman premier, Mrs. Sirima Bandaranaike was back in power for a second term, and driving even more radical policies; nationalizing industries, pursuing land reforms, restricting imports and changing the constitution and the name of the island from Ceylon to Sri Lanka.
After a while, Dharme uncle married and moved away. “We didn’t have telephones those days. So, we lost touch.” There’s a hint of regret in Swarna’s admission.
Things got much worse in Sri Lanka in the 1980s. It explains why the family perhaps did not keep in touch with their friend. The island nation with a majority Sinhalese Buddhist population sank into a quagmire of ethnic conflict, racism and corruption, the consequences of which are being experienced by everyone sharing the island, presently. Revisiting the political past of her island nation is not as enjoyable as recalling her childhood memories for Swarna. Her brows furrow and her mood swiftly changes.
Post-independent Ceylon had many factors that pushed people apart. In 1956, language, a prime connector of social groups, was made into a divider almost overnight with the Sinhala Only Act. Alternatively known as the Official Language Act, it was a landmark piece of legislation that made Sinhala the sole official language of the island, replacing English, which had been the administrative language during British colonial rule. The Act led to grievances among the Tamil-speaking community, as they felt marginalized and disadvantaged due to the dominance of Sinhala in official matters.
Similarly, religion became increasingly associated with separate ethnolinguistic groups. Though Swarna’s family and Dharmalingam had managed to transcend these differences, the country plunged into a mire of heightened ethno-religious and linguistic nationalisms. Differences became insurmountable divisions. Social connectors weakened as dividers were inflamed through an array of political decisions and cultural movements.
“The world has changed. I can’t remember the last time I was at a cinema. I was horrified to find out that Rio was torched in the ’83 riots.” Swarna’s visible discomfort signals the end of a conversation, as well as the end of an era.
Re-discovering Rio
Today, Rio Cinema huddles amidst the bustling Slave Island quarter of Colombo. The area is now officially known as Kompannavidiya, but the name Slave Island, which reflects the area’s colonial legacy, is still used by many who inhabit the neighborhood. According to popular belief, there was a slave uprising in the 17th century, which resulted in them being confined to an area that subsequently became known as Slave Island.
However, according to researchers, the area’s name most likely originated from the fact that slaves working for the VOC had resided there at least since the early 1700s. Thus the area is a historian’s paradise, brimming with stories old and new, with and several visual layers easily detectable for anyone with an eye for detail: There are the bo trees, temples and kovils, serene and detached from the present chaos.
The run-down shop houses and derelict residential buildings, still pull off star presence without a lick of paint in years. Colonial structures, offices and warehouses add another distinctive layer. The old and new melt into each other in Slave Island, creating a heady mix that can easily throw you off your trail and pull you into colorful, competing anecdotes. The bright murals from the 2022 protests and the rising skyscrapers ambushing the neighborhood beckon with their stories.
But for now, let’s stay with the Rio.
When the cinema opened in February 1965, a journalist from the Ceylon Daily News raved: “As for being an average theater, the Rio is not…The seats are unobstructed, large and comfortable, upholstered in foam rubber and creamy-beige rexine, with satinwood arms…the vertically operated screen is a beauty.” Starting with the screening of the movie South Pacific, the Rio went on to create many memorable moments for its audiences, regaling them with classics such as Sound of Music and West Side Story on a 70mm screen.
The cinema is currently owned by Mr Ratnaraja Navaratnam. “It was my grandfather Appapillai, who started Navah Cinema in 1951 and then Rio. The theater is still in the same family,” he reminisces. Memories are bittersweet for the Navaratnams; the glory days when Rio was a plush venue for the crème de la crème of Colombo came to an end by the late 70s.
The National Film Corporation, established in 1972 with the aim of promoting ‘truly local cinema’, took over film distribution. International studios such as 20th Century Fox started boycotting the country. Navaratnam’s business started faltering. The deepest blow, however, came in the ugly form of Black July in 1983, the racial riots that sparked a long-drawn civil war, during which Rio, together with several other film halls owned by Tamils, were set ablaze by mobs of Sinhalese thugs as the Navaratnams were Tamil.
“My father was very hurt. More than the financial loss, he felt betrayed. He had done so much for the community and for this to happen in his own neighborhood was very saddening,” says Navaratnam. In the grim aftermath of the ’83 riots, the Navaratnams migrated to Australia, following the exodus of many Tamil families from all over the island. The silver screens of Colombo lost their glow.
However, the third son of the Navaratnam family held on to the charred building. “I never left Slave Island. I was born here. These days it is more harmonious. Slave Island has a vibrant population, with Sinhala, Muslim and Tamil people all living together. You find the mosques, temples, and churches all within each other’s reach. People coexist without any problem at all,” says Navaratnam.
Today, Rio Cinema wears a tragic air, with fading memories of glamor echoing in the empty hall. The dark corridors remind one of the murky skies filled with smoke; remnants of the fires lit during the riots. The cinema still makes it to Colombo’s social calendar once in a way, when a pop-up exhibition, a musical gig or an art festival seeking a venue off the beaten track takes place, and for a fleeting moment, Rio breathes.
Cinema in Colonial Ceylon: Pioneers
Today, many are unaware that cinema in Ceylon drew in the strengths of all its communities as well as its neighbors in its early days. It is a story of how new technology created space for harmony leading to immense creativity and beauty, and how nationalist politics eventually spelt doom for a thriving industry.
The most overlooked yet indomitable pioneer of the industry comes from the Bohra community. The Bohras are a small but affluent denomination within Sri Lanka’s Muslim community; one of many such smaller communities that blended into the social fabric of Ceylon, while maintaining their own distinctive identity. We have forgotten and lost a lot to history, but by what little is documented we know that T.A.J. Noorbhai was a force to reckon with.
He was referred to as a ‘general merchant’ in official colonial documentation. Noorbhai seemed to have made his wealth through his other business ventures, by the time he got feverishly invested in show-biz. He was a man of importance in the Colombo business community, dominated mostly by merchant families with Indian origins at the turn of the 20th century. For instance, he was called upon to deliver a vote of thanks at the opening ceremony of the Chalmers Warehouses in Pettah, declared open by Governor Robert Chalmers in 1915. Noorbhai was one of the first to set up a cinema hall and go into local film production.
Some accounts indicate that Noorbhai set up a cinema named London Bioscope, even before he moved to Southern Road in Maradana, transforming a former theater hall named Criterion to Olympia Cinema which opened on July 5, 1918. According to advertisements placed in Daily News, it was declared open by the Acting Governor at the time. The Eastern Theatre Company, which Noorbhai established, is one of the earliest film production companies of Ceylon.
The company imported and screened silent films to local audiences. Eventually, Noorbhai built a new cinema in Wellawatta. In 1923, Noorbhai was embroiled in a court case, against a so-called American filmmaker, Captain Salisbury, alias Duke Zellers. In his enthusiasm for film production, Noorbhai was swindled out of a large sum of money and film equipment he had invested in. Although the court ruled in favor of Noorbhai, the funds and camera equipment stolen were never recovered.
One might think this bitter experience may throw Noorbhai off film production forever. But we find him two years later, producing the first ever Ceylonese feature film, Rajakeeya Wickramaya (The Royal Adventure, also known as Shanta, 1925). When looking back on film history, the island mostly talks about the talkies, beginning with Kadadwunu Poronduwa (The Broken Promise, 1947), and Noorbhai’s attempts seem to get lost.
In a twist of fate, The Royal Adventure, though completed successfully and screened in Singapore and India, never made it to the island’s silver screens. On its way to Ceylon on a ship, the reels were destroyed in a fire. Some say that it was deliberately set on fire, by those who resented the success of Noorbhai. It is difficult to trace a verified sequence due to disparities in different sources, but what is clear is that Noorbhai shaped the early film industry, by setting up theater halls, filming studios, importing film equipment and investing in both film production and distribution.
There are other stories that may never be fully recovered. For instance, who was the beautiful Burgher actress cast as the heroine of the show? Some sources mention her name as Sybil Feam, others Sybil Pete. We will never really know who this mysterious first-ever Sri Lankan actress of the silver screen was. But what we do gather from all the silenced, erased and forgotten stories is the unmistakable narrative of how Bohras and Burghers, Sinhalese and Tamils, Ceylonese and Indians shaped the early days of cinema in Sri Lanka.
Newcomers from Jaffna
As the magic of cinema grew by the second decade of the 20th century, generating lucrative profits, film production and distribution became exclusively the domain of the rich. Those who entered it earlier tended to monopolize the industry. In a colonial world where hierarchy was the order of the day, the rich were the colonial powers themselves. Local entrepreneurs, like Noorbhai, though affluent by local standards, still had to hustle with foreign distribution companies and compete with bigger Indian film Moghuls like J.F. Madan with his film circuit flung across the empire from India to Indonesia. Setting up locally owned production and distribution companies required people cut out for the big game.
It was into this arena full of sharks that two local boys from Jaffna entered and made their name. Chittampalam Abraham Gardiner and Alfred Leo Savarimuttu Tambiah were both born in Jaffna and came from the educated Tamil upper class. They were both in their twenties when they changed the scene for Sri Lankan cinema. In 1928, Gardiner and Tambiah formed Ceylon Theatres, a turning point in the film industry in Ceylon. Today, Ceylon Theatres or CT Holdings is one of the largest conglomerates in the island, managing many cinemas, including Majestic City Cineplex, banks and several other subsidiary ventures.
Ceylon Theaters played a critical role in establishing local film production and distribution, directly financing many early Ceylonese films such as Asokamala, which was the second talkie to be released after Kadawunu Poronduwa. Gardiner went on to support Lester James Peiris’ Rekhava, considered the first realistic Sinhala film that broke the mold of commercial cinema, paving the way for films to become not just mass entertainment aimed at profit-making but a form of art. Language and ethnicity did not limit the worldview of the likes of Gardiner and Tambiah. For them, contributing to a thriving local film industry, strong enough to compete with the regional powerhouses of Bollywood and Kollywood, was the aim.
Knighted by the Pope later in life, Gardiner was universally acknowledged as the father of the Sri Lankan film industry. When he passed away in the 1960s, all cinema halls across the country closed down in mourning, and Parson’s Road where Ceylon Theatre’s first cinema Regal was established, was renamed Sir Chittampalam A. Gardiner Mawatha in his memory. He was luckier than Noorbhai in that regard, whose pioneering work is barely acknowledged.
(To be continued next week)
Features
The Paradox of Trump Power: Contested Authoritarian at Home, Uncontested Bully Abroad
The Trump paradox is easily explained at one level. The US President unleashes American superpower and tariff power abroad with impunity and without contestation. But he cannot exercise unconstitutional executive power including tariff power without checks and challenges within America. No American President after World War II has exercised his authority overseas so brazenly and without any congressional referral as Donald Trump is getting accustomed to doing now. And no American President in history has benefited from a pliant Congress and an equally pliant Supreme Court as has Donald Trump in his second term as president.
Yet he is not having his way in his own country the way he is bullying around the world. People are out on the streets protesting against the wannabe king. This week’s killing of 37 year old Renee Good by immigration agents in Minneapolis has brought the City to its edge five years after the police killing of George Floyd. The lower courts are checking the president relentlessly in spite of the Supreme Court, if not in defiance of it. There are cracks in the Trump’s MAGA world, disillusioned by his neglect of the economy and his costly distractions overseas. His ratings are slowly but surely falling. And in an electoral harbinger, New York has elected as its new mayor, Zoran Mamdani – a wholesale antithesis of Donald Trump you can ever find.
Outside America it is a different picture. The world is too divided and too cautious to stand up to Trump as he recklessly dismantles the very world order that his predecessors have been assiduously imposing on the world for nearly a hundred years. A few recent events dramatically illustrate the Trump paradox – his constraints at home and his freewheeling abroad.
Restive America
Two days before Christmas, the US Supreme Court delivered a rare rebuke to the Trump Administration. After a host of rulings that favoured Trump by putting on hold, without full hearing, lower court strictures against the Administration, the Supreme Court by a 6-3 majority decided to leave in place a Federal Court ruling that barred Trump from deploying National Guard troops in Chicago. Trump quietly raised the white flag and before Christmas withdrew the federal troops he had controversially deployed in Chicago, Portland and Los Angeles – all large cities run by Democrats.
But three days after the New Year, Trump airlifted the might of the US Army to encircle Venezuela’s capital Caracas and spirit away the country’s President Nicolás Maduro, and his wife Celia Flores, all the way to New York to stand trial in an American Court. What is not permissible in any American City was carried out with absolute impunity in a foreign capital. It turns out the Administration has no plan for Venezuela after taking out Maduro, other than Trump’s cavalier assertion, “We’re going to run it, essentially.” Essentially, the Trump Administration has let Maduro’s regime without Maduro to run the country but with the US in total control of Venezuela’s oil.
Next on the brazen list is Greenland, and Secretary of State Marco Rubio who manipulated Maduro’s ouster is off to Copenhagen for discussions with the Danish government over the future of Greenland, a semi-autonomous part of Denmark. Military option is not off the table if a simple real estate purchase or a treaty arrangement were to prove infeasible or too complicated. That is the American position as it is now customarily announced from the White House podium by the Administration’s Press Secretary Karolyn Leavitt, a 28 year old Catholic woman from New Hampshire, who reportedly conducts a team prayer for divine help before appearing at the lectern to lecture.
After the Supreme Court ruling and the Venezuela adventure, the third US development relevant to my argument is the shooting and killing of a 37 year old white American woman by a US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) officer in Minneapolis, at 9:30 in the morning, Wednesday, January 7th. Immediately, the Administration went into pre-emptive attack mode calling the victim a “deranged leftist” and a “domestic terrorist,” and asserting that the ICE officer was acting in self-defense. That line and the description are contrary to what many people know of the victim, as well as what people saw and captured on their phones and cameras.
The victim, Renee Nicole Good, was a mother of three and a prize-winning poet who self-described herself a “poet, writer, wife and mom.” A newcomer to Minneapolis from Colorado, she was active in the community and was a designated “legal observer of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) activities,” to monitor interactions between ICE agents and civilian protesters that have become the norm in large immigrant cities in America. Renee Good was at the scene in her vehicle to observe ICE operations and community protesters.
In video postings that last a matter of nine seconds, two ICE officers are seen approaching Good’s vehicle and one of them trying to open her door; a bystander is heard screaming “No” as Good is seen trying to drive away; and a third ICE officer is seen standing in front of her moving vehicle, firing twice in the direction of the driver, moving to a side and firing a third time from the side. Good’s car is seen going out of control, careening and coming to a stop on a snowbank. Yet America is being bombarded with two irreconcilable narratives – one manufactured by Trump’s Administration and the other by those at the scene and everyone opposed to the regime.
It adds to the explosiveness of the situation that Good was shot and killed not far from where George Folyd was killed, also in Minneapolis, on 25th May, 2020, choked under the knee of a heartless policeman. And within 48 hours of Good’s killing, two Americans were shot and injured by two federal immigration agents, in Portland, Oregon, on the Westcoast. Trump’s attack on immigrants and the highhanded methods used by ICE agents have become the biggest flashpoint in the political opposition to the Trump presidency. People are organizing protests in places where ICE agents are apprehending immigrants because those who are being aggressively and violently apprehended have long been neighbours, colleagues, small business owners and students in their communities.
Deportation of illegal immigrants is not something that began under Trump. It has been going on in large numbers under all recent presidents including Obama and Biden. But it has never been so cruel and vicious as it is now under Trump. He has turned it into a television spectacle and hired large number of new ICE agents who are politically prejudiced and deployed them without proper training. They raid private homes and public buildings, including schools, looking for immigrants. When faced with protesters they get into clashes rather than deescalating the situation as professional police are trained to do. There is also the fear that the Administration may want to escalate confrontations with protesters to create a pretext for declaring martial law and disrupt the midterm congressional elections in November this year.
But the momentum that Trump was enjoying when he began his second term and started imposing his executive authority, has all but vanished and all within just one year in office. By the time this piece appears in print, the Supreme Court ruling on Trump’s tariffs (expected on Friday) may be out, and if as expected the ruling goes against Trump that will be a massive body blow to the Administration. Trump will of course use a negative court ruling as the reason for all the economic woes under his presidency, but by then even more Americans would have become tired of his perpetually recycled lies and boasts.
An Obliging World
To get back to my starting argument, it is in this increasingly hostile domestic backdrop that Trump has started looking abroad to assert his power without facing any resistance. And the world is obliging. The western leaders in Europe, Canada and Australia are like the three wise monkeys who will see no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil – of anything that Trump does or fails to do. Their biggest fear is about the Trump tariffs – that if they say anything critical of Trump he will magnify the tariffs against their exports to the US. That is an understandable concern and it would be interesting to see if anything will change if the US Supreme Court were to rule against Trump and reject his tariff powers.
Outside the West, and with the exception of China, there is no other country that can stand up to Trump’s bullying and erratic wielding of power. They are also not in a position to oppose Trump and face increased tariffs on their exports to the US. Putin is in his own space and appears to be assured that Trump will not hurt him for whatever reason – and there are many of them, real and speculative. The case of the Latin American countries is different as they are part of the Western Hemisphere, where Trump believes he is monarch of all he surveys.
After more than a hundred years of despising America, many communities, not just regimes, in the region seem to be warming up to Trump. The timing of Trump’s sequestering of Venezuela is coinciding with a rising right wing wave and regime change in the region. An October opinion poll showed 53% of Latin American respondents reacting positively to a then potential US intervention in Venezuela while only 18% of US respondents were in favour of intervention. While there were condemnations by Latin American left leaders, seven Latin American countries with right wing governments gave full throated support to Trump’s ouster of Maduro.
The reasons are not difficult to see. The spread of crime induced by the commerce of cocaine has become the number one concern for most Latin Americans. The socio-religious backdrop to this is the evangelisation of Christianity at the expense of the traditional Catholic Church throughout Latin America. And taking a leaf from Trump, Latin Americans have also embraced the bogey of immigration, mainly influenced by the influx of Venezuelans fleeing in large numbers to escape the horrors of the Maduro regime.
But the current changes in Latin America are not necessarily indicative of a durable ideological shift. The traditional left’s base in the subcontinent is still robust and the recent regime changes are perhaps more due to incumbency fatigue than shifts in political orientations. The left has been in power for the greater part of this century and has not been able to provide answers to the real questions that preoccupied the people – economic affordability, crime and cocaine. It has not been electorally smart for the left to ignore the basic questions of the people and focus on grand projects for the intelligentsia. Exhibit #1 is the grand constitutional project in Chile under outgoing President Gabriel Borich, but it is not the only one. More romantic than realistic, Boric’s project titillated liberal constitutionalists the world over, but was roundly rejected by Chileans.
More importantly, and sooner than later, Trump’s intervention in Venezuela and his intended takeover of the country’s oil business will produce lasting backlashes, once the initial right wing euphoria starts subsiding. Apart from the bully force of Trump’s personality, the mastermind behind the intervention in Venezuela and policy approach towards Latin America in general, is Secretary of State Marco Rubio, the former Cuban American Senator from Florida and the principal leader of the group of Cuban neocons in the US. His ultimate objective is said to be achieving regime change in Cuba – apparently a psychological settling of scores on behalf Cuban Americans who have been dead set against Castro’s Cuba after the overthrow of their beloved Batista.
Mr. Rubio is American born and his parents had left Cuba years before Fidel Castro displaced Fulgencio Batista, but the family stories he apparently grew up hearing in Florida have been a large part of his self-acknowledged political makeup. Even so, Secretary Rubio could never have foreseen a situation such as an externally uncontested Trump presidency in which he would be able to play an exceptionally influential role in shaping American policy for Latin America. But as the old Burns’ poem rhymes, “The best-laid plans of men and mice often go awry.”
by Rajan Philips ✍️
Features
Unsuccessful attempt on President Chandrika’s life
The Presidential election campaign was drawing to a close. We had campaigned hard but everyone knew that it would be a keenly contested election. A final meeting was scheduled for Saturday December 18, 1999. It was to be held near the Town Hall in Colombo and CBK was to be the chief speaker. I was accommodated in the front row of the stage together with other party leaders.
Ratnasiri Wickremanayake, the Prime Minister, had invited me to be a speaker at his final meeting in Horana. I waited till CBK arrived, spoke briefly to her and left for Horana. I had barely reached Havelock Town when I heard the sound of a blast from near the Town Hall. It was a well planned attempt on the life of CBK by the LTTE. Suicide bombers had come into the well packed grounds with a group of supporters of a Colombo district SLFP MP. Fortunately they had been prevented from coming close to the stage by the barriers set up by the Police.
CBK had finished her speech to a packed audience and was going down the gangway from the stage to her car when the bomber had detonated his bomb killing himself, several policemen, CBKs driver and many onlookers. But for the fact that her driver had driven up to the steps, thereby interposing the steel reinforced Mercedes Benz car between the bomb and CBK she would have been torn to shreds.
When we inspected the Benz it was a mass of twisted metal like a futuristic sculpture. I forgot about Horana and immediately rushed to the general hospital where to my relief I was told that the President was alive and out of danger. Since I had experience of the bombing of the UNP group meeting in Parliament during JRJs time, I rushed to Temple Trees to find that Sunethra Bandaranaike had fortunately promptly come there and was with the children upstairs.
The Temple Trees staff congregating downstairs were wandering about in shock till the arrival of President’s Secretary Balapatabendi. I urged that we should immediately get down Anuruddha Ratwatte -the Deputy Defence Minister, who at that time was in Kandy. A problem arose because helicopters could not fly at night. He was asked to come immediately by road and he did arrive in the shortest time.
In the meanwhile I suggested that Balapatabendi should broadcast the news that CBK was alive and out of danger as we had done with JRJ after the Parliament bombing. Already news about the attack was swirling because international media was using it as “Breaking News”. Bala and I went to the TV station and as he was getting into the studio I noticed that he was dressed in a black shirt which could have given a bad message to the country. I quickly took off my shirt and exchanged it for Balas black shirt. He then spoke on camera trying to calm the country wide audience dressed in an over-sized shirt.
We went back to Temple Trees and found that the PM and other Cabinet Ministers and relatives had arrived there and were taking charge of the situation. I then went to the General Hospital to see GL Peiris and Alavi Moulana who were in a state of shock and awaiting medical attention. Alavi’s shirt was blood stained and his sons were helplessly moving around asking for immediate medical attention.
After that both sides did not campaign in the remaining few days. The whole country was in a state of shock and disbelief. To the credit of Ranil Wickremesinghe he immediately visited CBK to wish her a speedy recovery and virtually called off his campaign. The shock of the Town Hall blast was compounded when almost at the same time a bomb was set off by the LTTE in Wattala where the UNP was holding a propaganda meeting. Major General Lucky Algama who was in charge of security was killed in this blast together with several UNP supporters.
Presidential Election December 2019
The presidential election was held as scheduled. We witnessed a clear shift of the sentiments of voters towards CBK after the bombing. I went to Kandy to cast my vote early as usual at the Nugawela voting centre. Immediately after that I left for Colombo. All along the road women of all ages were gathering in great numbers to cast their votes. It became clear that a sympathy vote was in the offing, especially among women. They could empathize with CBK who had lost a father and husband and now nearly lost her own life in the cause of public service.
The election results when announced proved that our hunch was correct. The declared results were as follows;
CBK
4,312,157 Votes [51.1 Percent]
Ranil
3,602,748 Votes [42.71 Percent]
Nandana Gunatillake
[JVP] 344,173 [4.08 Percent]
CBK then took a courageous decision which unfortunately backfired on her many years on as I will describe in a succeeding chapter. In the light of possible confusion following the bombing she decided to take her oath of office as the new President immediately though she had several months more to serve in terms of her earlier mandate. Though she had a team of brilliant lawyers including H L de Silva and R K W Goonesekere to advice on constitutional matters such details were not analyzed by her political staff. She took oaths before Chief Justice Sarath Nanda Silva and on the following day left for UK for medical treatment.
(Excepted from Vol. 3 of the Sarath Amunugma autobiography) ✍️
Features
My experience in turning around the Merchant Bank of Sri Lanka (MBSL)
LESSONS FROM MY CAREER: SYNTHESISING MANAGEMENT THEORY WITH PRACTICE – PART 29
The last episode covered the final stages of my work as Advisor to the National Productivity Drive at the Ministry of Industrial Development. Soon after, in September 1998, I accepted the position of Managing Director of the Merchant Bank of Sri Lanka (MBSL). This chapter shares key events and lessons from my time there.
First few weeks at MBSL
The Board agreed that, for the first month, I would work only half-days, as I still had obligations I could not abandon. I was organising the International Convention on Quality Circles 1998, which attracted many foreign participants, and although we had appointed an event organiser, numerous arrangements still required my involvement. I will write more about that Convention later in these memoirs.
Those half-days turned out to be useful. They allowed me to quietly observe and understand the situation. MBSL was in worse shape than I had expected. The financial problems were visible to anyone who read the statements. The bigger crisis, however, was the staff’s morale and the rapid loss of staff members.
During the interim management period, many staff benefits had been cut, and several senior executives had already left. In the first few months, farewell gatherings became routine. It felt like rats leaving a sinking ship. And indeed, the organisation was sinking. Yet I had accepted the challenge — largely because I sensed that the Chairperson could secure government support, which she had already begun to do.
The broader environment added to the tension. The LTTE conflict was still active. Our office building, a very tall building located near the Colpetty junction, was a prime target. It had an Air Force unit with anti-aircraft guns on the rooftop one floor above he boardroom.. No one was allowed there without special permission, even though the area had originally been designed as a rooftop function space.
The first board meeting was quite hilarious because, while we were discussing important strategic issues, the upper floor was reverberating with a baila session, with boots tapping the floor keeping time. Apparently, the unit had an assurance that there would be no air strikes, and they could take a break.
My own office was spacious, but the windows were blocked because Temple Trees — the official residence of the Prime Minister — was clearly visible if not. At first, working without any outside view felt quite oppressive. Eventually, I grew accustomed to it.
Once I began full-time work in October, I carefully examined the situation with the help of my capable team. Several senior employees were not leaving for higher-paying opportunities or foreign jobs — they were committed, though uncertain about the future.
Then came investigations by the Central Bank and the Securities and Exchange Commission. Much of my time was spent responding to information requests and ensuring that all releases of information were approved. Many years previously, MBSL had unintentionally become a subsidiary of the Bank of Ceylon (BOC) when BOC’s investment arm purchased shares that pushed ownership above 50 per cent.
Hence although we were not a deposit taking institution and therefore not under the regulatory oversight of the Central Bank, we were under the Central Bank scrutiny because we were a subsidiary of the BOC. Although we were independent in operations, the customary practice was that the BOC Chairman would also chair MBSL, together with other BOC directors serving on our board. Our Chairperson, Mrs Dayani de Silva, was determined to turn MBSL around.
At that time, we operated two main divisions:
· Corporate finance, including advisory and investment banking; and
· Leasing, including trade finance.
In addition, there were the service divisions such as Human Resources, Secretarial and Finance and Accounting
Staff matters and the trade union
Morale was low. staff resisted the benefit cuts and the shift toward rules that resembled those of government departments. Signing an attendance register was particularly disliked.
I reviewed the situation carefully. Some of the removed benefits saved only trivial amounts. I reinstated those. I also installed an electronic time-card system for everyone — including myself. I announced clearly that I would clock in every day, just as they did. Naturally, the first few months were not easy.
I began holding monthly staff meetings to explain what we were doing, why we were doing it, and where we stood financially. Communication had clearly been lacking earlier, and these meetings helped rebuild trust. I also operated an “open door” policy, welcoming any employee who wished to meet me. The performance appraisal system was another issue. Instead of motivating staff, it had become a source of resentment. I suspended it for two years and asked everyone to work together as one team.
Most employees up to the Deputy Manager level were unionised, affiliated with the Ceylon Bank Employees Union (CBEU), headed by Mr M. R. Shah. The collective agreement was due, and the union presented a long list of demands — many of them impossible, given our financial state. Normally, negotiations take place between the Employers’ Federation of Ceylon (EFC) and the CBEU. The Director General of the EFC, Mr Gotabhaya Dassanayake, advised me first to build mutual confidence, especially as I had never met Mr Shah before.
I invited Mr Shah to my office. Over tea, I openly explained the crisis we were facing, our restructuring plan, and the management approach we intended to adopt. He listened carefully and asked sensible questions. We parted on friendly terms, and more importantly, with a shared understanding.
A month later, negotiations began at the EFC. To my surprise, Mr Shah began by saying that, after speaking with the new Managing Director, he understood our difficulties and accepted the direction we were taking. He then withdrew several demands on the spot. I was relieved, not because demands were dropped, but because he had recognised our sincerity and our plan. Later, Mr Dassanayake telephoned to say he had rarely seen such cooperation. In time, as restructuring succeeded, we gradually restored many benefits. That entire episode reinforced a powerful lesson: honest communication and genuine leadership build trust far faster than confrontation.
Expanding leasing
The board was deeply concerned about the leasing division. Non-performing loans were very high, and they urged me to restrict new business and focus solely on recoveries. I informed the board that management was partly to blame because the staff was pressured to meet stretch targets, and all we got were substandard leasing facilities. Targets without safeguards are never beneficial.
My thinking differed. Aggressive recovery efforts often demoralise good customers and overburden staff. In addition, the customers were already in great difficulty because they had no financial means to meet their leasing obligations. Instead, I believed we needed to build a new, healthier portfolio, while also expanding fee-based advisory work with lower risk. I had also abandoned my consultancy business when I joined MBSL, and proposed creating a new subsidiary to bring that kind of business into the bank. The board rejected it – understandably, given past failures with subsidiaries, including one in Nepal.
We decided that if our leasing operations were to grow, they needed to feel more connected to ordinary Sri Lankans. Research revealed that many people viewed us as an “English-speaking bank.” That perception alone discouraged potential customers.
So, we refreshed our leasing brand. The new logo carried the Sinhala word for “leasing,” applications were printed in Sinhala, and signboards carried both languages. Even the telephone operator’s greeting changed. Instead of the polished “Good morning, MBSL,” which sometimes intimidated Sinhala-speaking callers, we switched to “Ayubowan, MBSL.” It was friendly, respectful, and immediately accepted across all segments.
When an SME business owner comes for a lease, they have already selected the vehicle, and the decision is more based on ego than on a business requirement. We would discourage them and enlighten them that the vehicle does not match their requirements, and advise them to select a smaller one. They look unhappy, but they finally agree when presented with the maths of repayment.
We also organised short educational sessions for our customers on how to maintain vehicles, extend tyre life, the importance of the correct lubricants, and improve customer service. These simple initiatives created goodwill, strengthened customer relationships, and soon, the leasing business began to grow. At the same time, we were tough on recoveries, and some unpleasant moments included we seized a vehicle when a couple was on their honeymoon. The board, while pressuring me to recover, also constantly reminded me that no strong-arm tactics should ever be used.
Improving cash availability
Before I joined, two government institutions had agreed to provide debentures, with Treasury comfort letters. However, a condition required us to build a monthly sinking fund for repayment. To me, this made little sense. We were already short of operating cash. Locking more away would only weaken us further.
The head of finance had faithfully followed the rule. I instructed him to stop doing so and to use the funds for business expansion. When the board asked how we planned to repay the debentures, my answer was simple: growing organisations borrow when repayment comes due — that is how business operates.
We also began selling off our minority shareholdings from our share portfolio wherever possible even at a loss. The market was depressed, and those investments in shares contributed nothing to our survival. We retained only the Merchant Credit of Sri Lanka and divested the others. Gradually, liquidity improved, and operations stabilised.
The thorny bonus issue
Before my arrival, the board had approved bonuses despite the 1997 crisis. I was surprised how it happened soon after chalking up a billion rupee loss. However, just three months into my tenure, the board refused the December 1998 bonus. I found myself in a painful position. The EFC warned that withholding payment was risky because bonuses were written into appointment letters. Yet, reality was clear — we simply could not afford it.
I addressed the staff personally, explained the situation frankly, and announced the decision. The disappointment was visible everywhere. But given the circumstances, they accepted it.
There were more challenges and many more lessons still to come. In the next article, I will continue the story of how, step by step, we navigated those difficulties and rebuilt the organisation.
(The writer is a Consultant on Productivity and Japanese Management Techniques
Retired Chairman/Director of several listed and unlisted companies
Recipient of the APO Regional Award for Promoting Productivity in the Asia-Pacific Region
Recipient of the Order of the Rising Sun, Gold and Silver Rays from the Government of Japan
Email: bizex.seminarsandconsulting@gmail.com)
By Sunil G. Wijesinha ✍️
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