Features
Perspective of the Moment: Murals at Gotami Viharaya
By Uditha Devapriya
Commissioned in 1939 and completed a year later, the murals at Gotami Viharaya in Borella represent a high point of 20th century Buddhist temple art. Painted at a time of world war, they occupy a world away from the art décor, art nouveau, and rococo styles that had come to prevail in Buddhist temples. Borrowing from the past, they also subvert its tropes. Rooted in tradition and convention, they are also bold and modernist.
The Viharaya was constructed in 1925 on land owned by Lady Apollonia de Soysa. The mother of Sir James Peiris, Lady de Soysa belonged to the colonial elite in British Ceylon. By inheritance and marriage, her family was connected to some of the most important figures in 20th century Sri Lanka, who played a major role in rejuvenating the country’s culture. Lady de Soysa’s grandson, Harold Peiris, devoted much of his life to these efforts, while his cousin Harry Pieris went on to become a leading national painter.
It was against this backdrop that Peiris persuaded his brother-in-law George Keyt to paint the murals at the Gotami Viharaya. Keyt did not accept a payment for the commission, though his benefactors provided him with the material: one report indicates the paint alone cost Rs 35,000, a huge sum back then.
By now, George Keyt had fully abandoned his Anglican upbringing. Renouncing his middle-class inheritance, he had first attempted to enter the path of a Buddhist monk. He then began contributing to arguably the most seminal Buddhist publication in the country, The Buddhist Annual of Ceylon. Over the next few years he drew sketches from the life of the Buddha, the Jataka Stories, and classical Sinhala texts, for other publications, including the Ceylon Daily News Vesak Number and Observer Annual.
In her book Buddha to Krishna: Life and Times of George Keyt, Yashodhara Dalmia contends that in all this, Keyt was shaped by the growing tide of Buddhist nationalism.
This is a fairly accurate observation. But it reduces Keyt to a passive receptacle, a byproduct of various external developments. Keyt’s response to the Buddhist revival was radical, for it represented an affirmation of an ancient tradition. Yet at the same time, as Dalmia notes, he did not let the revivalism of his time dictate his conception of art. The sketches he drew for The Buddhist Annual, which predict his paintings for the Gotami Viharaya, are at one level respectful of the characters they portray. Yet they are also bold and innovative. The painter regards his subjects with justifiable awe. But he does not deify them.
Keyt’s sketches in the 1920s and 1930s are evocative of the figures of the celebrated British painter and sculptor Eric Gill. By the late 1930s, however, he has grown fascinated with the curve, a hallmark of traditional Sinhalese painting. Most of his sketches from this period, featured in publications like the Daily News Vesak Number and the Observer Annual, are well-rounded and well curved. This is especially so of his female figures.
One sketch, of Mahamaya Devi sleeping on her bed, stands out in particular. Languid and relaxed, she is well poised even at rest. Though only a sketch, we can almost imagine the colour of her flesh, the thoughts on her mind.
Dalmia notes that Keyt did not come up with preliminary sketches of the murals at the Gotami Viharaya. This may be because he had done them many times before, elsewhere. The sketch of Mahamaya Devi at rest, for instance, predicts his portrait of her in the temple. Such parallels underlie a sustained evolution in his career.
For these reasons, we cannot comment on the Gotami Viharaya murals in isolation. They must be placed in their context. From the soft, languid figures of Siddhartha, his wife Yasodhara, and his disciples and associates, to the writhing, contorted figures of Mara and his army, Keyt exhibits a grasp of multiple styles.
More than anything, one notices an attempt at humanising his characters. Unlike traditional Kandyan temple art, the murals at Gotami Viharaya are lifelike, certainly life-sized. Yet they are hardly larger than life. Tellingly, Keyt chose not to include the suvisi vivarana and sath satiya, episodes that follow the Buddha’s attainment of Enlightenment.
- Queen Mahamaya at Rest. Daily News Vesak Number 1936. Courtesy J. R. Jayewardene Centre
- The Buddhist Annual of Ceylon 1923. Courtesy J. R. Jayewardene Centre
By contrast, the artist dehumanises Mara and his army. They are made to stand apart from the rest, and we are made to see them as such. They are the “Other”, and as such exist away and apart from his other figures and depictions.
Lionel Wendt liked the original sketches that Keyt drew, and suggested that he leave them in that form. Wendt had seen Keyt’s sketches Keyt in the 1930s and may have felt the murals would look more distinctive as sketches. Keyt, however, insisted on painting them in colour. In his choice of colours, he departed from convention: he made the whites and greens more prominent, balancing them against the reds, yellows, and browns.
In other words, he was ready to do away with convention, but not to the point of rupturing with them completely. This somewhat ambivalent attitude epitomised most of the 43 Group, a point Qadri Ismail brings up in his critique of that artistic collective.
“The most celebrated members of that male institution – Keyt, Wendt, Justin Däraniyagala, [Ivan] Peries – produced stunning, innovative work and, as is now well known, the group itself determinedly introduced modernist painting to Sri Lanka in the face of powerful opposition from a conservative, realist, colonial art establishment. However, it is also necessary to insist, from the perspective of our moment, that the group’s staging of Sri Lanka in its artistic production… was profoundly complicitous with both orientalism and the problematic of Sinhala nationalism.”
When first shown the outlines of the murals, we are told the monks at the Viharaya raised concerns over their depiction of female sensuality. Unlike most murals, Keyt had chosen not to feature fair-skinned women in his panels: almost all of them are brown-skinned. At one level, that represents an attempt to de-exoticize the South Asian woman, something Dalmia emphasises in her book.
Yet at another level, it betrays his fantasies and his obsessions about that specific feminine type. It is possible that in all these paintings Keyt was evoking his wife, Pilawela Menike, who occupied his life and dominated his passions.
In other words, in a pattern reminiscent of most of the other members of the 43 Group, Keyt’s radical conception of art was tempered by a somewhat conservative counterpoint, be it in his choice of colour or his mode of representation.
From the perspective of their moment (or the moment of their perspective?), of course, these murals do represent a break with tradition, and they should be discussed, praised, or critiqued in that light. But perhaps owing to their inability to go beyond the visual confines of the medium they worked in, the 43 Group became, as Ismail notes, “complicitous” both with nationalism and, ironic as it may sound, orientalism.
There is nothing overtly orientalist about the murals, of course. Yet in the female figures which adorn these walls, there is an attempt, however vague or slight, to translate his obsession with dark-skinned women into a definitive form. This, we believe, may explain his reluctance to leave the murals in sketch outline: he knew, and not wrongly, that they would lose their character if not in colour.
Today the Gotami Viharaya stands on the side of a residential road in Borella. Keyt’s murals, on walls designed by the British architect Andrew Boyd, contrast sharply with the buduge, which features murals more in line with conventional 20th century styles.
George Keyt’s contribution to the Buddhist revival, as a writer, a poet, and a painter, comes out beautifully in these panels. They reflect his abilities, and no doubt also his limitations. Yashodhara Dalmia describes the Viharaya as “perhaps the second most visited monument after Sigiriya.” Yet today it stands in isolation from its surroundings in Colombo, indeed from the rest of the country. That is a pity, for at the temple we discern a high point not just in Sri Lankan, but also South Asian and Asian art.
Uditha Devapriya is a writer, researcher, and analyst based in Sri Lanka who contributes to a number of publications on topics such as history, art and culture, politics, and foreign policy. He can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com
Features
The Ramadan War
A Strategic Assessment of a Conflict Still Unresolved
The Unites States of America and its ally, Israel attacked Iran on 28 February, or the 10th day of the month of Ramadan. More than a month of intense fighting has passed since, and the Ramadan War has settled into a grinding, attritional struggle that defies early declarations of victory. Despite sustained U.S. and Israeli air and naval bombardment, Iran remains standing, and continues to strike back with a level of resilience that has surprised many observers. The conflict has evolved into a contest of endurance, adaptation, and strategic innovation, with each side attempting to impose costs the other cannot bear.
Iran’s response to the overwhelming airpower of its adversaries has been both simple and devastatingly effective: saturate enemy defences with swarms of inexpensive drones and older ballistic missiles, forcing them to expend costly interceptors and reveal radar positions, and then follow up with salvos of its most advanced precisionguided missiles. This layered approach has inflicted severe physical damage on Israel and has shaken its national morale. The country has endured repeated missile barrages from Iran and rocket fire from Hezbollah, straining its airdefence network and pushing its civilian population to the limits of endurance.
The United States, meanwhile, has been forced to evacuate or reduce operations at several bases in the Gulf region due to persistent Iranian drone and missile attacks. For both the U.S. and Israel, the war has become a test of strategic credibility. For Iran, by contrast, victory is defined not by territorial gains or decisive battlefield outcomes, but by survival, and by continuing to impose costs on its adversaries.
The central strategic objective for the U.S. has now crystallised: reopening the Strait of Hormuz to secure global energy flows. Ironically, the Strait was open before the war began; it is the conflict itself that has rendered it effectively closed. Air and naval power alone cannot achieve this objective. The geography of the Strait, combined with Iran’s layered defences, means that any lasting solution will require ground forces, a reality that carries enormous risks.
U.S. Strategic Options
The United States faces five broad operational options, each with significant drawbacks.
1. Seizing Kharg Island
Kharg Island handles roughly 90% of Iran’s oil exports, making it an attractive target. However, it lies only a short distance from the Iranian mainland, where entrenched Iranian forces maintain dense networks of missile batteries, drones, artillery, and coastal defences. Any attempt to seize Kharg would require first neutralising or capturing the adjacent coastline, a costly amphibious and ground operation.
Even if successful, this would not reopen the Strait of Hormuz. It would merely deprive Iran of export capacity, which is not the primary U.S. objective. At least ostensibly not; there are those who argue that the U.S. simply wants to take over Iran’s petroleum (see below).
2. Forcing the Strait of Hormuz by Naval Power
Sending U.S. naval forces directly through the Strait is theoretically possible but operationally hazardous. Iran has mined all but a narrow channel hugging its own shoreline. That channel is covered by overlapping fields of antiship missiles, drones, artillery, and coastal radar. Clearing the mines would require prolonged operations under fire. Attempting to push through without clearing them would risk catastrophic losses.
3. Capturing Qeshm, Hengam, Larak, and Hormuz Islands
These islands dominate the Iranian side of the Strait and host radar, missile, and drone installations. Capturing them would degrade Iran’s ability to close the Strait, but the islands are heavily fortified, and the surrounding waters are mined. Amphibious assaults against defended islands are among the most difficult military operations. Even success would not guarantee the Strait’s longterm security unless the mainland launch sites were also neutralised.
4. Invading Southern Iraq and Crossing into Khuzestan
This option would involve U.S. forces advancing through southern Iraq, crossing the Shatt alArab waterway, and pushing into Iran’s Khuzestan province — home to most of Iran’s oilfields. The terrain is difficult: marshes, waterways, and narrow approaches. Iranian forces occupy the high ground overlooking the plains.
While this route would allow Saudi armoured forces to participate, it would also expose U.S. and allied logistics to attacks by Iraqi Shia militias, who have already demonstrated their willingness to target U.S. assets. The political and operational risks are immense.
5. Capturing Chabahar and Advancing Along the Coast
The most strategically promising — though still costly — option is seizing the port of Chabahar in southeastern Iran and advancing roughly 660 kilometres along the coast toward Bandar Abbas. This approach offers several advantages:
· Distance from Iran’s core population centres complicates Iranian logistics.
· Chabahar’s deepwater port (16m draught)
would provide a valuable logistics hub.
· U.S. carriers could remain at safer standoff distances
, supporting operations without entering the Strait.
· The coastal route allows naval gunfire and missile support
to assist advancing ground forces.
· Local Baluchi insurgents
could provide intelligence and limited support.
· Capturing Bandar Abbas would
outflank Iran’s island defences and effectively reopen the Strait.
This option is likely to form the backbone of any U.S. ground campaign, potentially supplemented by diversionary attacks by regional partners to stretch Iranian defences.
The Limits of U.S. Superiority
The United States retains overwhelming superiority in naval power and manned airpower. But whether this advantage translates into dominance in unmanned systems or ground combat is far from certain.
The 2003 invasion of Iraq is often cited as a model of U.S. military prowess, but the comparison is misleading. Iraq in 2003 had been crippled by a decade of sanctions. Its forces lacked modern mines, antitank missiles, and effective air defences. Tank crews had little training; some could not hit targets at pointblank range. RPG teams were similarly unprepared. The U.S. enjoyed numerical superiority in the theatre and total control of the air, allowing it to isolate Iraqi units and prevent reinforcement.
Even under those favourable conditions, Iraqi forces managed to delay the U.S. advance. At one point, forward U.S. units nearly ran out of ammunition and supplies, forcing the diversion of forces intended for the assault on Baghdad to secure the lines of communication.
Iran is not Iraq in 2003. Its armed forces and industrial base have adapted to nearly half a century of sanctions. It produces its own drones, missiles, artillery, and armoured vehicles. It has built extensive underground facilities, hardened command posts, and redundant communication networks.
Moreover, the battlefield itself has changed. The RussoUkrainian war demonstrated that deep armoured penetrations – once the hallmark of U.S. doctrine – are now extremely vulnerable to drones, loitering munitions, and precision artillery. The result has been a return to attritional warfare reminiscent of the First World War, with front lines stabilising into trench networks.
Yet, as in the First World War, stalemate has been broken not by massed assaults but by small, highly trained teams infiltrating thinly held lines, identifying targets, and guiding drones and artillery onto enemy positions deep in the rear. Iran has studied these lessons closely.
Mosaic Defence and Transformational Warfare
Iran’s military doctrine has evolved significantly over the past two decades. Its “mosaic defence” decentralises command and control, ensuring that even if senior leadership is targeted, local units can continue operating autonomously. This structure proved resilient during the initial waves of U.S. and Israeli strikes.
Iran has also absorbed lessons from U.S. “shock and awe” operations. The botched U.S. invasion of Grenada in 1983 exposed weaknesses in joint operations, prompting the development of “effectsbased operations,” “rapid dominance” and the broader concept of “transformational warfare.” These doctrines (better known colloquially as “Shock and Awe”), influenced by Liddell Hart and Sun Tzu, emphasised simultaneous strikes on strategic targets to paralyse the enemy’s decisionmaking.
While the U.S. struggled to apply these concepts effectively in Iraq and Iran, Tehran has adapted them for asymmetric use. Its drone and missile campaigns have targeted not only military assets but also economic infrastructure and psychological resilience. Israel’s economy and morale have been severely tested, and the United States finds itself entangled in a conflict that offers no easy exit.
Iran has also pursued a broader strategic objective: undermining the petrodollar system that underpins U.S. financial dominance. By disrupting energy flows and encouraging alternative trading mechanisms, Iran seeks to weaken the economic foundations of U.S. power.
Will the USA Achieve Its War Aims?
The United States’ core objective appears to be securing control over global energy flows by reopening the Strait of Hormuz and limiting China’s access to Middle Eastern oil before it can transition to alternative energy sources. Whether this objective is achievable remains uncertain.
A ground campaign would be long, costly, and politically fraught. Iran’s defences are deep, layered, and adaptive. Its drone and missile capabilities have already demonstrated their ability to impose significant costs on technologically superior adversaries. Regional allies are cautious, and global support for a prolonged conflict is limited.
The United States retains overwhelming military power, but power alone does not guarantee strategic success. Iran’s strategy is simple: survive, adapt, and continue imposing costs. In asymmetric conflicts, survival itself can constitute victory.
In Frank Herbert’s Dune, the protagonist, Paul Muad’dib says “he who can destroy a thing, controls a thing.” This is the essence of Iranian strategy – they have a stranglehold on petroleum supply, and can destroy the world economy. Trump has had to loosen sanctions on both Iran’s and Russia’s oil, simply to prevent economic collapse.
The Ramadan War has already reshaped regional dynamics. Whether it reshapes global power structures will depend on how the next phase unfolds, and whether the United States is willing to pay the price required to achieve its aims.
by Vinod Moonesinghe
Features
Nayanandaya:A literary autopsy of Sri Lanka’s Middle Class
“Nayanandaya,” meaning the enchantment of indebtedness, is Surath de Mel’s latest novel. True to his reputation as a maximalist writer, de Mel traverses the labyrinth of middle-class struggles; poverty, unemployment, the quest for education, through a father’s fragile dreams. The novel unfolds around Mahela, his son, his friendships, and the fragile relationships that keep him tethered to life.
“Happiness is not a destination; it is a journey. There are no shortcuts to it. At some point, the path you thought was right will be wrong. You have to make sacrifices for it.”
These words, uttered by the protagonist Mahela to his ten-year-old son, is the silent mantra of every middle-class parent. A common urban middle-class father’s yearning for his child to climb the ladder he himself could not ascend.
A Socio-Political Mirror
Sri Lanka’s middle class remains trapped in paradox. They are educated but underemployed, salaried but indebted, socially respected yet politically invisible. Structural inequalities, economic volatility and populist politics inclusively contribute to keep them “forever middle”.
Through protagonist Mahela, who is sometimes a graphic designer, sometimes a vendor and always a failure Surath de Mel sketches the deficiencies of an education system that does not nurture skills of the students. Sri Lanka boasts about high literacy rates, yet the economy cannot absorb the thousands of graduates produced into meaningful work. Underemployment becomes the inheritance of the middle class. With political connections often the stories can be transformed. De Mel pens it in dark humour to expose these truths:
“Some notorious writer once sneered in a newspaper, ‘Give your ass to the minister, and you’ll earn the right to keep it on a bigger chair.’ Countless people waiting in ministers’ offices, pressing
their backsides to seats, carrying the weight of their own lives.”
Childhood Trauma and Its Echoes
Surath de Mel frequently weaves psychoanalysis into his fiction. In Nayanandaya, he captures the lingering shadows of childhood trauma. Mahela, scarred by a loveless and fractured youth, suffers phobic anxiety and depression, apparently with a personality disorder as an adult. His confession at the psychologist reveals it out:
“Childhood? I didn’t have one. I was fifteen when I was born.”
Here, Mahela marks his true birth not at infancy, but at the death of his parents. This statement itself reveals the childhood trauma the protagonist had gone through and the reader can attribute his subsequent psychological struggles as the cause of it.
From a Lacanian perspective, trauma is not just something that happens to a child; it is a deep break in how the child understands the world, themselves, and others. Some experiences are too painful to be put into words. Lacan calls this the Real — what cannot be fully spoken or explained. This pain does not disappear but returns later in life as anxiety, fear, or obsessive compulsive disorder.
This trauma disturbs the child’s sense of self and their place in society. When language fails to make sense of loss, the mind creates fantasies to survive. These fantasies quietly shape adult desires, relationships, and choices.
In Nayanandaya, childhood trauma of the protagonist does not stay buried — it lives on, shaping the adulthood in unseen ways. In the narrative, Mahela’s struggles are not just personal failures but the result of a past that was never given words.
Tears of Fathers – Forgotten in Sri Lankan Literature
Sri Lankan literature has long been attentive to suffering — especially rural poverty, social injustice, and the silent endurance of women and single mothers. Countless novels, poems, and songs have given voice to maternal sacrifice, female resilience, and women’s oppression.
Yet, within this rich narratives, the quiet grief of the urban middle-class father remains mostly unseen. Rarely does fiction pause to examine the emotional lives of men who shoulder responsibility without language for their pain. These masculine tears are private, swallowed by routinely and masked by humour or silence. Definitely never granted literary space.
In Nayanandaya, Surath de Mel breaks this silence. Through Mahela, he lends voice to these overlooked men — fathers whose love is expressed through sacrifice rather than speech. However, de Mel does not romanticise the tears. Rather he humanises them. He allows their vulnerabilities, anxieties, and quiet despair to surface with honesty and compassion. In doing so, Nayanandaya fills a striking gap in Sri Lankan literature, reminding us that fathers, too, carry invisible wounds.
Literary value
With Nayanandaya, Surath de Mel reaches a new pinnacle in his literary craft. His language is dense yet lyrical, enriched with similes, metaphors, irony, and a full range of literary tools deployed with confidence and control.
One of the novel’s most touching narrative choices is the personification of Mahela’s son’s soft toy, Wonie. Through personified Wonie, de Mel captures the two most touching incidents in the entire novel . This simply reveals the author’s artistic maturity, transforming a simple object into a powerful emotional conduit that anchors the novel’s tenderness amidst its despair.
At a deeper symbolic level, Mahela himself can be read as more than an individual character, but a metaphor for Sri Lanka — a nation struggling under economic hardship, clinging to impractical dreams, witnessing the migration of its people, and drifting towards a slow, painful exhaustion. His personal failures could mirror the broader decay of social and economic structures. This symbolic reading lends Nayanandaya a haunting national resonance.
Today, many write and many publish, but only a few transform language into literature that lingers in the reader’s mind long after the final page. Surath de Mel belongs to that rare few. In a literary landscape crowded with voices, he remains devoted to art rather than popularity or trend. As a scholar of Sinhala language and literature, de Mel writes with intellectual depth, dark humour, and deep human empathy.
In conclusion, Nayanandaya is not merely a story; it is social commentary, psychoanalytic reflection, and tragic poetry woven into richly textured prose. With this novel — a masterful interlacing of love, debt, and fragile dreams — Surath de Mel engraves a distinctly Dostoevskian signature into Sinhala literature.
Reviewed by Dr. Charuni Kohombange
Features
Domestic Energy Saving
Around 40 percent of the annual energy we use is consumed in domestic activities. Energy is costly, and supply is not unlimited. Unfortunately, we realize the importance of energy – saving only during the time of a crisis.
If you adopt readily affordable energy-saving strategies, you will cut down your living expenditure substantially, relieving the energy burden of the nation. Here are some tips.
Cooking:
Cooking consumes a good portion of domestic energy demand and common practices, and negligence leads to 30 – 40 percent wastage. A simple experiment revealed that the energy expenditure in boiling an egg with the usual unnecessary excess water in an open pan is nearly 50 percent higher than boiling in a closed lid pan with the minimal amount of water. In an open pan, a large quantity of heat is lost via convection currents and expulsion of water vapor, carrying excessive amounts of heat energy (latent heat of vaporisation). Still, most of us boil potatoes for prolonged intervals of time in open receptacles, failing to realise that it is faster and more efficient to boil potatoes or any other food material in a closed pan. About 30 – 40 percent of domestic cooking energy requirements can be cut down by cooking in closed-lid pans. Furthermore, food cooked in closed pans is healthier because of less mixing with air that causes food oxidation. Fat oxidation generates toxic substances. In a closed- lid utensil (not tightly closed), food is covered with a blanket of water vapor at a positive pressure, preventing entry of air and therefore food oxidation.
Overcooking is another bad habit that not only wastes energy but also degrades the nutritional value of food.
Electric kettle:
For making morning or evening tea or preparing tea to serve a visitor. Do not pour an unnecessarily large quantity of water into the electric kettle. Note that the energy needed to make 10 cups of tea is ten times that of one cup.
Electric Ovens:
Avoid the use of electric ovens as far as possible. Remember that foods cooked at higher temperatures are generally unhealthy, and even carcinogens are formed when food is fried at higher temperatures in an oven. If ever you need to bake something in an oven, limit the number of times you open the door. Use smaller ovens adequate for the purpose and not larger ones just for fashion.
Refrigerators:
Refrigerators consume lots of energy. Do not use over-capacity refrigerators just for fashion. Every time you open the fridge, more electricity is used to reset the cooling temperature. Plan your access to the appliance accordingly. Check whether the doors are properly secured and there are no leakages. Keep the fridge in a cooler location, not hit by direct sunlight and away from warmer places in the kitchen. Remember that turning off the fridge frequently will not save energy, instead it draws more energy.
Use of gas burners:
Do not use oversized utensils. Keep the lid closed as far as possible to prevent the escape of heat. Remember that excessive amounts of heat energy are carried away by a large surface-area conducting utensil. Do not open the gas vent to allow the flame to flash outside the vessel. A flame not impinging on the pan would not heat it, and gas is wasted. Ensure that the flame is blue. Frequently check whether gas vents are clogged with rust and carbon. Frequently, cooking material in the pan drops into the gas vents, and salt there corrodes the gas vents. Cleaning and washing would be necessary. Do not prolong cooking, taking time to prepare ingredients and adding them to the pan intermittently. Add ingredients at once and before switching the burner. If the preparation of a dish is prolonged to slow the cooking, use earthenware pots rather than metallic ones. An earthenware pot, being thermally less conducting retain heat.
Firewood for cooking:
Do not attempt to eliminate the use of firewood in cooking. If you are living in a village area, the exclusive use of LPG gas is an unnecessary expenditure. Large smoke-free, efficient oven designs are now available. If you are compelled to use gas, keep the option of firewood ovens, especially for prolonged cooking. Admittedly, there are locations, especially in cities, where the use of firewood is unsuited.
Hot water showers:
Before installing hot water showers, reconsider whether they are really necessary in a hot tropical climate. Go for solar water heaters, although the installation cost is high. Instant water heaters consume much less electricity compared to geysers with water tanks. Now, cheap and safe instant water heaters are available.
Lighting:
Arrange and design your residence to optimise daytime illumination until late evening. If you are constructing a new house, take this issue into account. Use LED lamps, which provide the same illumination for 85 percent less energy. In study rooms and areas that require prolonged illumination, paint the walls white. Angle – poised LED lamps with very low voltage are available. Use them for reading and studies. Routinely clean the surfaces of all lamps. Dust deposition cuts off light.
Air conditioning and ventilation:
Air conditioning consumes prohibitively large quantities of electrical energy. You can avoid air conditioning by optimising ventilation. The principle is to have air entry points (windows) in the house near the ground level and exit points (vents or windows) near the roof. Ground level is cooler, and the region near the roof is warmer. Thus, a cool air current enters the house near the ground level and hot air is drawn by the vents near the roof. The region near the ground can be rendered cooler by planting trees. Architectural designs are available to optimise this effect. You can sense the direction of air motion by holding a thin strip of paper near the windows at the ground and near the roof level. In addition to ceiling fan, install exhaust fans in the upper points of the house to remove hot air and draw cooler air through windows near the ground. Reduce the amount of sunlight hitting the roof by shading with trees. There are techniques for increasing the reflectance of the roof with paints and other designs.
Transportation:
A good portion of your budget is drained by transportation. Irrespective of who you are, use public transport if convenient and available. As much as possible, use the telephone and email to get your things done. If the officers do not comply for no valid reason, complain. Plan your trips to the town to do several things at the same time. Whenever possible, plan to share transport. Buy energy – efficient small vehicles. Routinely examine your vehicle for energy efficiency, i.e. correct tire pressure etc.
Charge electric vehicles off peak hours. Slow charging reduces heat generation in the circuit, reducing energy loss.
Energy is costly and limited in supply. Everything you do consumes energy. Be energy conscious in all your deeds. That attitude will reduce your expenditure, lessen the environmental degradation and financial burden of the nation in importing fuel.
Educating the general public is the most effective way of implementing energy-saving strategies.
By Prof. Kirthi Tennakone
(kenna@yahoo.co.uk)
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