Features
Manouri Muttetuwegama: a woman unapologetically herself
Her privileged family background did not deter Manouri from working in overcrowded prisons, making a case for thousands of women and appearing for rural farmers who were arrested for not paying their water tax. She would often represent these victims pro bono. Credited to have published one of the earliest reports on missing persons following the ‘Muttetuwegama Commission’, Manouri would once recollect in an interview that forcible disappearance of loved ones is the ‘most inhuman and heinous crime’ where even the right to pay last respects was taken away from relatives. She charged that it could not be dismissed as a mere ethnic issue.
by Randima Attygalle
“War is very much a man’s thing… widows were marginalized by their communities, orphaned girls were deprived of basic education and thousands of female-headed families struggling to survive are still waiting to be counted in official statistics…” Manouri Muttetuwegama, the Chairperson of the Disappearance Commission (1994) would recollect. A woman who had to brave many battles of life, Manouri Kokila Muttetuwegama, the human rights activist and one of the earliest Lankan women to take up criminal law, could relate easily to the heartbreaks of fellow women. She would not hesitate to remind the world that ‘women’s rights are human rights’ too.
One time President of the Women Lawyers’ Association, her privileged family background did not deter Manouri from working in overcrowded prisons, making a case for thousands of women and appearing for rural farmers who were arrested for not paying their water tax. She would often represent these victims pro bono. Credited to have published one of the earliest reports on missing persons following the ‘Muttetuwegama Commission’, Manouri would once recollect in an interview that forcible disappearance of loved ones is the ‘most inhuman and heinous crime’ where even the right to pay last respects was taken away from relatives. She charged that it could not be dismissed as a mere ethnic issue.
My first newspaper interview with Mrs. Muttetuwegama was for the now defunct The Nation paper nearly 15 years ago. I can still recollect stepping into her Sulaiman Terrace (off Jawatta Rd.) residence on a late afternoon, a little nervous having to do justice to a phenomenal woman larger than life. Greeting me with her characteristic warm smile, Mrs. Muttetuwegama instantly made me feel at home. Discovering that the journalist before her was a lawyer too, she was delighted. Later, when I moved to the Sunday Island, edited by her first cousin, Mr. Manik de Silva, she was simply thrilled. Whenever she found a feature of mine particularly interesting, she would call me to congratulate and even take trouble to drop an email.
Manouri was only two-years old when her father, Dr. Colvin R de Silva was taken to custody by the British and put behind the bars at Bogambara. Her mother, a devout Buddhist would sing softly to herself, siduhath kumaruge hitha nam boho dediya.. matawath nokiya thaniyama thapasata wediya…
Born to a mother whose family had an uncle or a brother taking robes in every generation, it was only natural for Manouri to be admitted to her mother’s school, Visakha Vidyalaya. “She came from a family of temple builders and found the temple to be an outlet of solace, especially at time when things were tough at home with daddy’s political involvement. And daddy far from the temple-goer his wife was, stood by my mother, encouraging her to pursue her spiritual pursuits. He was very liberal-minded,” she once recollected.
When the young Barrister-daughter returned from England, her father as Manouri would say, was convinced that she had made the best of both worlds. “While London exposed me to more than law books, my Buddhist upbringing enabled me to sit on the ground with my legs to one side and my skirts covering my knees,” she would reminisce.
Very much her father’s daughter, Manouri took to student activism like duck to water at the University of London, where her father had also studied. The first woman to have held the chair of the of the Ceylon Students’ Union, Manouri earned the title ‘street lady’ for her vociferous activism. At a time when the natives were still aping the imperialists and growing up in local public schools which were “copies of British education”, young lawyer Manouri did not feel “planted and alienated” in her own country, after a 10-year sojourn in England from 1953 to 1963.
The “liberating experience” of London, only shaped her to experience the socio-political fabric prevailing at home with “no trappings” as she called it. “My father further fuelled my spirit by exposing me to the top brass and the most remote folk of his electorates,” she once said. Be it metropolitan hubs as Wellawatte-Galkissa (her father’s first parliamentary seat) or at Agalawatta (where he was later MP) and Balapitiya, Manouri would feel at home in her father’s election campaigns. Several years later, she would re-write history in the rural Kalawana where her late lawyer-husband Sarath Muttetuwegama, a man who lived in the hearts of people, reigned.
To our generation of lawyers who could not be privy to the life and times of her legendary father who could ‘swing a jury,’ Mrs. Muttetuwegama became a priceless window. More than the drama of her father’s legal feats, what moved her most was his ability to go straight to the ‘essentials of the Law’ and his treatment of the Law as a social instrument. “He was never tied down to precedent, instead he had a sharp appreciation of the legal concepts. He treated the courts with reverence and drilled into us that one is never to treat the courtroom as a political platform. For him, it was not just a matter of mastering the technical aspects of the Law; integrity and decorum mattered most to him. He set the example of never humiliating or bullying a witness, never misleading the judges neither on the law nor on evidence and most importantly to be relevant in courts.” She herself lived up to this.
An inspiration to a young lawyer, Mrs. Muttetuwegama was always one of the most coveted subject of interview for a journalist. I was once intrigued to know what her unforgettable memories of her father’s sensational trials were. Sathasivam murder case, Kularatne arsenic poisoning case and the attempted coup of 1971 were among the most unforgettable. It was 12-year-old Manouri who received the famous forensic expert Sir Sydney Smith who heeded her father’s call and arrived here to give expert evidence in the Sathasivam case. Dr. Smith, a family friend by then, whom she had the privilege of visiting in Edinburgh with her father was a ‘Scotsman with a heavy accent’ as Mrs. Muttetuwegama would recall. “I remember how he used to pick carnations for me from his garden and I pinning them on the button hole of my overcoat,” she once shared a fond memory with me.

Inheriting her father’s universality of thinking, Mrs. Muttetuwegama would encourage young professionals- lawyers or otherwise, applaud anyone for a job well done. Women empowerment being close to her heart, the avant-garde activist would admire those who would challenge the status quo. On one occasion when I was accompanied by my colleague photographer Sujatha Jayaratna, Mrs. Muttetuwegama remarked that she was both delighted and proud to be posing for one of the few professional women photojournalists in the country. A woman who had the highest regard for women breadwinners, I remember Mrs. Muttetuwegama applauding Sujatha who looks after her sick and ageing mother while juggling a full time career.
Despite her commanding and charismatic personality, Mrs. Muttetuwegama remained truly feminine, a trait I often admired in her. Her simple yet sophisticated dress sense made a statement wherever she went. A few years ago when I launched a publication at the Colombo International Book Fair, she was among my earliest guests, adding stature to the occasion. Despite her challenging health, she was kind and humble enough to remain until the end of the event, taking time to speak to several who had been mentored by her, occupying some of the top legal ranks today.

A qualified lawyer at the time her father drafted the first Republican Constitution, Mrs. Muttetuwegama used to recap walking as a ‘proud daughter’ beside him into the Constituent Assembly. “The exercise of the 1972 Constitution is a matter of regret to me today. My father’s objective was to champion individual rights of liberty and equality and make a chance for everybody to make a place for himself,”. It was she who headed the Consultation Task Force on Reconciliation Mechanisms (CTFRM) appointed in 2016. Reflecting on her father’s foresight: ‘One language two nations; two languages one nation’, she would often lament that the country was not only divided on ethnic grounds but also on lines of education. She was disheartened that the educational disparity was getting worse.
Calling the LSSP her ‘elder sister’, only a few years older than she was, Mrs. Muttetuwegama was often critical of the present day so-called leftists. The activist lawyer would say that they were on an “impossible see-saw.” While trying to hold onto old leftist concepts of egalitarianism, non-racism and at the same time labouring to stay in the public eye, they were making the “inevitable compromise,” she often said.
A woman of great attainment, she remained unassuming until the end. Apart from being her father’s daughter, she would say, “I’m also my husband’s wife and my daughter Ramani’s (an accomplished lawyer in her own right) mother, but I’m only humbled.” Above all of it, she was Manouri Muttetuwegama, a role model who was an embodiment of my favourite poet Maya Angelou’s words: ‘a woman in harmony with her spirit is like a river flowing. She goes where she will without pretense and arrives at her destination prepared to be herself and only herself.’
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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