As Sri Lanka celebrates the birth, Enlightenment and the Parinibbana of the Buddha, almost a month after the rest of the Buddhist-world did so, there is widespread discussion about threats to Buddha Sasana provoked by some recent incidents. Regarding the views expressed about postponing Vesak celebrations in my article ‘May Day and postponement Vesak 2026’ (The Island, 25 May), my very good friend Dr Upali Abeysiri has sent me the following comments: “The Mahanayakas have a good reason to postpone Vesak. The dawning of the full moon has to be on the same constellation (nekatha) as when the Buddha was born and attained enlightenment. Although Adhi Poya is reckoned as the second full moon arising in the same calendar month, this is supposed to be an odd exception.” Though it would have been ideal if a consensus could have been reached prior to the split of celebrations, perhaps, it does not matter very much as celebrations occur on a symbolic rather than an actual date, there being no historical or archaeological evidence confirming exact dates.

Whilst there are no direct threats to Buddha Dhamma, as the expanding horizons of science continue to confirm the fundamentals of Buddha Dhamma, there is no doubt whatsoever that there are threats to Buddha Sasana. However, these threats become important as the Buddha Sasana performs the pivotal role in protecting and propagating the Dhamma and, hence, become an indirect threat to Dhamma itself. Therefore, it should be the concern of all Buddhists and it is in this spirit I am making some comments which some may interpret as disrespectful to the Maha Sangha. I can reassure that my intentions are entirely directed towards the preservation of the Buddha Dhamma and Sasana. Though the Buddha proclaimed that the Sasana consists of Bhikkhu, Bhikkhuni, Upasaka and Upasika, for all practical purposes Sasana had been led by Bhikkhus, often at the expense of others.

There is hardly any doubt that there are external forces at play in Sri Lanka and even some Buddhists seem to object to Sri Lanka being called a Buddhist country. Interestingly, no one seems to object to countries like the UK and the USA being called Christian counties. I

There is no registration or baptism in Buddhism and there are no rewards for Buddhists for conversions. As I pointed out in a previous article, ‘How does the Buddha differ’ (The Island, 1 May) unlike most other religions, Buddhism is not a ‘high-demand’ religion, nor ‘law-based’ religion and is not exclusivist. Perhaps, it is this liberalism, pacifism and gentleness, which are the real strengths, that are being exploited as weaknesses by others.

There will always be external threats and the Buddha too faced many during his lifetime. Before addressing those, is it not more important to address the threats within? One of the most important problems seems to be the breakdown of discipline. Bhikkhus are bound by Vinaya rules, laid down by the Buddha and some recent incidents highlight total deviations. Though there were many previous incidents like unsubstantiated claims of Arahanthood, Bhikkhus attacking each other on YouTube and Bhikkhus conducting YouTube channels, not for the propagation of the Dhamma but for the accumulation of rupees, attention was focused after the detection of 22 young monks carrying narcotic drugs.

Though many commentators were quick to condemn the Sangha on this account, we need to go deeper. Narcotic menace has become a huge problem in Sri Lanka and it looks as if the drug lords would resort to anything to achieve their objectives. Though it looks as if some gullible young monks had been duped by drug lords, we need to question why it was possible. Is it due to the lack of supervision of these novices by their seniors that allowed them to accept a request in a WhatsApp group? Should there be checks and balances on foreign travel by Bhikkhus?

What shocked Buddhists was what followed next; the arrest of the Nayaka of Atamasthana for allegedly having sex with a minor. Anuradhapura was our first capital and Sri Maha Bodhi is the longest surviving authenticated tree in the world. Ruwanweliseya and Jetawanaramaya were among the ten tallest man-made structures in the ancient world, Jetawanaramaya still holding the Guiness record for the largest stupa in the world. Cyberspace is full of theories. Whilst some have condemned the Nayaka Thero even before the conclusion of inquiries whilst others claim that this was a coup by another Nayaka Thera in an attempt of succession.

I was intrigued, reading in a Sri Lankan newspaper about the 80th birthday celebrations of a Nayaka priest, who was convicted in London in 2012 of historical child sex abuse and sentenced to seven years in prison. I remember the case very well as he was the head of the Vihara, we had our first contact on relocating to the UK. I also remember his devotees, who believed that he was wrongly accused, collecting over £50,000 for an appeal. In spite of being represented by one of the top Barristers in the UK, the conviction was upheld but the jail-term was reduced by a year. His name is still on the sex-offenders register in the UK and he is permanently prevented from association with children. One can argue that as he has served the sentence and not reoffended, this should not be held against him but what baffled me is that he is still being referred to as the Chief Sangha Nayaka. Should a person on the sex-offenders register be the Chief Sangha Nayaka?

It is high time we put our own house in order before fighting the external enemies. It is reported that the former president CBK has written to the Mahanayakas requesting urgent reform and we should be obliged to her for taking the lead.

There are many aspects that need urgent reform, the first being removal of caste barriers practiced by some Nikayas, which is the greatest insult to the Buddha who promoted equality. The second is the active encouragement of Bhikkhuni Sasana which has not happened in spite of the landmark ruling by the supreme court. The third is the establishment of proper disciplinary processes under a single Adhikarana Sangha Nayaka with powers and support than allowing the government to take over the control of even non-criminal Vinaya matters.

There are many other issues that need settlement like the controversy of the land of Buddha’s birth which seems to linger on. An expert committee should hear all evidence and settle this issue once and for all.

As I have pointed out on many occasions in these columns, it is high time a Dhamma Sangayana was held, as the last one was 70 years ago. Ideally, it should be different with active participation of lay experts as well. It is the duty of us Buddhists to ensure that the words of wisdom of the Buddha continue to enlighten generations to come.

By Dr Upul Wijayawardhana

The University of Ceylon, Peradeniya, was in our time, a less-crowded residential university, where everybody knew everybody else or at least knew of everybody else.

I knew of Emeritus Professor Vijaya Kumar of the Department of Chemistry at Peradeniya, or Kumar, as we referred to him fondly, before I got to know him. His dear wife Savitri, also a member of the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry, was nicknamed Kumee, by some of their students (of which vintage is unknown to me) and the duo were thereafter referred to affectionately as Kumar and Kumee.

The Faculty of Science became a regular haunt of mine as I would go there in the company of my batchmates to attend lectures on Basic Mathematics given by Professor Maheswaran, as it was a requirement for our General Arts Qualifying Examinations. I would also go there to listen to some excellent talks under a programme that was held in the auditorium of the Science Faculty referred to as “Popular Science Gossip”. The “gossip” at these talks were not confined solely to science but were broad enough to include Literature, History and other branches of knowledge as well. I would often spot Kumar in the audience at these talks or bump into him in the corridors of the Science Faculty. But I got to know him personally only after he became the Warden of Arunachalam, my hall of residence, during my undergraduate years initially, and later, as a member of the academic staff of the Department of English.

Our Science Faculty undergraduate contemporaries, especially those at Arunachalam Hall and its immediate neighbour, Jayatilaka Hall, both within a stone’s throw away from the Science Faculty, shared many an anecdote about Kumar and their other lecturers. One of these anecdotes, had to do with a spectacular (motor car) driving feat of Kumar’s. Legend has it that he drove from his university bungalow-home to the Faculty of Science deploying only the reverse gear of his car! Kumar, on hearing of this, had told certain of his student friends, including some who became his colleagues later on, that this story is one of the biggest yarns he had heard in his life!

Some of his one-time younger colleagues, now in retirement like Kumar, tell me that Kumar exuded warmth and friendliness in all of his professional and administrative interactions with others in the wider university community. But there was no warmth or mercy for those who indulged in the unsavoury pastime of student ‘ragging’. He was a very strong proponent of the need to ensure to all freshers an environment free of the menace of ‘ragging’. He remained ever-vigilant during the ‘ragging’ season. There are stories of his chasing ‘raggers’ and catching them. Professor Maheswaran, who later became an intimate friend and remains so after more than half a century, was another who was fiercely opposed to ‘ragging’. I was a personal witness to Mahes chasing a ‘ragger’ up and down the stairs of the main library to nab him. Yet another of his students has noted that Kumar’s office room in the Faculty was a total mess at all times. It had tables, piled so high with books and documents that one could not easily spot Kumar at his desk. He, however, had the knack of pulling out from amidst the clutter, any document that he needed at any given time. If anybody were to volunteer to help tidy his desk, Kumar would respond firmly with “Don’t you touch my desk!”.

Kumar, like several of his colleagues in the other faculties as well, had his own eccentricities. According to information received from reliable sources, Kumar who taught Organic Chemistry used to carry his lecture notes in his shirt or trouser pocket with ‘the entire lecture condensed in point form on a half-sheet or half of a half-sheet of paper’. The way he rummaged through his sling bag filled to the brim with stuff to find an item that he needed was another ritual that amused onlookers.

Kumar, interestingly enough is a Royal-cum-Thomian product, in that he had his primary education at S.Thomas’ Prep School, Kollupitiya and the entirety of his secondary education at Royal College, which he entered in 1953. In a note written by Kumar himself, he notes that despite having had excellent teachers at Royal, his was not a notable school career. He goes on to say that “the only achievement I could boast of was my being the joint-winner of the school General Knowledge Prize”. However, he had been active in a Scout Group outside of school (1st Port of Colombo, Sea Scouts) where he “was Queen’s Scout, Patrol leader, and later, Assistant Scout Master”.

Kumar entered the Faculty of Science of the University of Ceylon in 1961 and secured from it an honours degree in Chemistry in 1965. He joined the academic staff of the Department of Chemistry in the Faculty of Science, University of Ceylon, Peradeniya in 1965 and left the following year for Magdalen College at Oxford University, from which institution he obtained his doctorate in Chemistry. His entire teaching career was at Peradeniya, where in the period 2003-2006 he served as the Dean of the Faculty of Science, a position that his late father-in-law had held a few decades earlier.

Among the other highlights of his career are: Chairman of the Industrial Technology Institute (formerly the Ceylon Institute of Scientific and Industrial Research, CISIR); Member (representing Sri Lanka) of the Geneva-based UN Commission on Science and Technology from 1999 to 2007 and its President from 2001-2003; President of the Sri Lanka Estate Workers Union from 1989 onwards; Member of the Politburo of the Lanka Sama Samaja Party from 1988 to 2014 and currently, a member of the Executive Committee of the National People’s Power (NPP).

Vijaya and Savitri Kumar are parents of daughters Shamala and Ramya, who are following in the footsteps of their parents: with the former teaching in the Department of Agricultural Economics in the Faculty of Agriculture, University of Peradeniya and the latter, in the Department of Community Medicine at the University of Jaffna.

(I wish to thank the following who assisted me in the writing of this brief essay: Mr. Bandula Warnakulasuriya, Emeritus Professor Ratnayake Bandara, Professor Mahinda Wickramaratne, Professor Swarna Wimalasiri and Mr. Manik de Silva).

*Editor’s note: Prof. Vijaya Kumar, a member of the NPP’s National Executive Committee and is still active in politics turns 84 today. This article by Tissa Jayatilaka, former Executive Director of the United States – Sri Lanka Fulbright Commission for Mutual Academic Exchange, was written for an upcoming collection of essays on Kumar’s life by his friends.

(Colombo Telegraph)

By Tissa Jayatilaka

[Review of Udayasiri Wickramaratne’s ‘Garu Kataanaayakathumani’

The Sinhala equivalent of ‘Honourable Speaker’ is ‘Garu Kathaanaayakathumani,’ ‘thumani’ being an additional honorific. Udayasiri Wickramaratne’s popular play on parliamentary affairs or rather parliamentary banter is titled ‘Garu Kataanaayakathumani’. Note: Kataa Not ‘Kathaa.’ The latter would be stories/speeches while ‘Kataa’ a word coined from ‘kata’ or ‘mouth.’

Technically, the Sinhala term is more appropriate to the position. The Speaker, after all, rarely speaks. Kataanaayaka could be taken to mean ‘one who leads the speakers or speech-makers’ or ‘one who oversees all speeches/speakers.’ So, as I set out to review the latest version of the play, I had to figure out how Udayasiri’s play on the term could be captured in English.

Technically, it had to be a word that drew from ‘mouth’ or ‘bad mouthing,’ but English is too poor or my vocabulary is limited to harvest the appropriate or twist the available. Kata (mouth) and Kathaa (speech) are similar whereas ‘mouth’ and ‘speech(es)’ are not. I can’t go with ‘speaker’ because that would rob the irreverent character of the title and, in general, the play. ‘Peeker’ seemed better because the character playing the Speaker didn’t have to do much apart from having a lazy, bored and indulgent peek at the proceedings unfolding before him.

The show at the Punchi Theatre on April 29, 2026 was my third viewing. I was at the maiden show, performed at the Lionel Wendt in 2019. This was in the midst or the aftermath of the parliamentary coup towards the end of that year where the then Speaker, Karu Jayasuriya, was in the thick of things at a moment when it was difficult to distinguish parliament from a circus. Key conversation-snippets had been scripted in. It was hilarious for other reasons as well, because the play touched on other issues that concerned the general public.

It is obviously easy to mine social media for comment and satire but weaving it all into a story is another matter. Udayasiri made it seamless and managed a nice mix of serious commentary and humour to keep the audience in fits of laughter and give people something to take home and think about as well.

‘Suddek oba amathai

(A white man addresses you)’ was his debut play. That was in 2010. It was followed by Rangapaem Ivarai (Play-acting is done) in 2013, Pem Yuwalak Ona Kara Thibe (Wanted: a couple of lovers) in 2015, Thunsiya Heta Eka (Three Hundred and Sixty One) in 2017 and Harima Badu Thunak (Three Crazy Fellows) in 2023. ‘Garu Kataanaayakathumani’ (‘Kataanaayaka’ hereafter) took stage in the midst of the parliamentary coup of 2019. The right moment, obviously, given the political chaos.

I went for the maiden performance at the Lionel Wendt. It was a riot. The references to the political intrigue of that time was unmistakable. The dialogue was familiar and the satire certainly resonated with the general sentiments of the audience, going strictly by its response. All of that is easy, obviously. The challenge was to wring out serious political commentary from what politicians blurt out in and out of parliament.

Udayasiri was merciless. He treated all the politicians lampooned in the play and the parties they represented equally. No one was spared. The laughter it all generated indicated, to me, a general agreement with the critique that Udayasiri had written into the script. It was in fact a critique of politicians, parties, political culture and the entire political system which left us even more convinced that we, as citizens, are well and truly shortchanged or worse, absolutely irrelevant. At least in the period following the announcement of election results and the calling of the next election. Ours is a tiny window. We may feel a tad important but just for a few days every five-six years. At other times, we are victims of designs made in our name but for the benefit of cronies. At other times, we laugh, either privately or collectively in places like the Lionel Wendt, Lumbini or Punchi Theatre where the likes of Udayasiri make it alright for us to show those in power and aspiring to positions of power that we know what’s what.

‘Kataanaayaka’

has a format that is made for adjustment to changing times and political fortunes. It’s a dynamic script that is amenable to bold and extensive revision. Indeed, it allows players to ad lib too. Udayasiri claims that there are innumerable lines that he would be hearing for the first time. In such moments, he becomes part of the audience. He laughs with the rest of us.

The characters are named by way of address, but they so clearly resemble real politicians that no one can be faulted if the names we missed and moreover replaced with those of the particular individuals identified by the characters. It’s almost as if the onus is on the audience to figure out who is being played. It’s a no-brainer, really, for anyone who has even a cursory interest in local politics.

Ishara Wickramasinghe’s character, Wijayasena resembles former President, Ranil Wickremesinghe. There’s one character, Mahasena, who in appearance, voice and demeanour is a great Mahinda Rajapaksa and is played by Susanga Kahandawalaarachchi. There’s Jayasenathuma, who we are compelled to conclude is Maithripala Sirisena, and is played by Thilan Warnajith Wijesinghe. Sashika Diyamanatha Samare is an excellent stand-in for President Anura Kumara Dissanayake whose play-name is Janasena, while Sudarshana Bandara is recognizable as Wimal Weerawansa (Suriyasena). Prabodha Buddhipriya plays an excellent albeit quiet(er) Punchisena (Sajith Premadasa?). There’s also Sinhakumari played by Mihiri Priyangani (Geetha Kumarasinghe?) and Malkumari by Nayanathara De Silva (Hirunika Premachandra?).

The more boisterous of our parliamentarians have been rolled into a single character, played by Sanjeewa Dissanayake. This particular show, the 231st overall and closing on the 100th at the Punchi Theatre, had characters absent in earlier iterations. For example, the character played by Lasanduni Jayawardena, although she spoke sporadically, was ‘Pragnakumari,’ clearly crafted to represent the Prime Minister, Harini Amarasuriya, while Charuka Suraweera played an excellent ‘Aruchchuna.’ Yes, it had to be him. Both, obviously, were not in Parliament in 2018.

Some of the jokes were old, some twisted old humour and then there was freshness too. On this occasion, compared to the two previous viewings, I was struck by the fact that people were laughing from beginning to end. I like to believe that some element of that response was the audience, myself included, laughing at itself, for suffering idiots, clowns, crooks, demagogues and agents of other countries and a particular class of people that is always spared the agonies suffered by the general public. Everyone laughed at all the jokes, regardless of who they may have voted for. It told me that we are, for all our faults, a society that is able to self-criticize.

We vote for someone or a party despite the obvious flaws. We pick the lesser evil of the moment. Very few swear by those they vote for. There’s always a bloc vote, but that’s dwindling. We may be called a fickle polity, but no, we are a polity that just refuses to be shackled to any particular person or party. We are loyal, but only to a point. Udayasiri reminded me of all that. After all, there were no boos or drop-dead silences when any character on stage made a fool of him/herself. The critique apparent in the banter and the cringe-worthy uttering of one politician or another, was legitimate and accepted as such.

Udayasiri’s plays, we have come to understand, are funny, sharp, insightful and musical. Literally. Lalith Wickramarathne, who is a music director, sound manager, percussionist and a Director at City FM, SLBC, added a lot of colour with the music arrangement. The songs or rather snippets of songs were certainly appropriate to the particular dramatic moment; there was one original (‘Chooti-chooti hil’ or ‘Tiny, tiny holes’) which has done the rounds since 2018 and therefore is not exactly unfamiliar. The other songs or segments were from popular artists. They were familiar, immediately understood to be appropriate and therefore appreciated.

The acting. The main characters were effectively portrayed. We didn’t have clones of known politicians, but the particular actors did justice to the characters drawn from the political firmament. There were quite a few minor characters. They didn’t get to speak much, but then the ‘way of parliamentary proceedings’ allowed Udayasiri to use their entrances and exits to bring in quite a number of ‘parliamentarians,’ on to the floor. They were good enough, but paucity of lines and minimal presence on stage coupled with strong performances from the main actors made such characters quite forgettable. Their stage-moment, nevertheless, was significant and relevant to the context. Udayasiri’s script-in-flux made sure of it.

The Speaker or, the Honorable Keeper, played by Ruwan Malith Pieris, as is typical of the post, was mostly quiet. Of course, Pieris has had to ‘impersonate’ several ‘keepers’ since the play was first performed. There was not much to ‘keep’ for the script reigned in the unruly quickly enough.

Overall, the players were not debating a particular vote or piece of draft legislation. In this sense the play was not exactly ‘parliamentary.’ Parliament was merely a set wherein ‘parliamentarians’ did parliamentary things with words, gestures, expressions and movements that amounted to self-undressing that was equally hilarious and tragic as the undressing of one another.

I came out laughing to myself. What a parliament, what a country, what a citizenry, I told myself. We are a hilarious nation and since we can laugh at each other and ourselves, we will always have dignity and hope. Udayasiri says a lot of things. This too, I feel.

by Malinda Seneviratne