Features

Que Sera Sera

Published

4 months ago

2025/11/16

Dilip's house when I first saw it

My memories go back almost seventy years, when, as a seven-year-old. I lived with my parents and two siblings in a provincial town. My sister had just been born. My father was unemployed and we relied on my mother’s meager salary to see us through. To make ends meet, mother even stitched all our clothes.

My school was more than a mile from home, and I trudged to school and back, crossing a railway line and walking along a busy road. Most students rode bicycles, and hundreds would be cycling along the road each morning. I passed the houses of three classmates on my way to school. One, who lived barely 500 yards from school, was driven there every day. I don’t remember ever being offered a ride.

We lived in a small, rented house. Tiny veranda, sitting room, two bedrooms, and a small kitchen. No electricity or running water. An outhouse for a toilet, and water drawn from a well shared with several other houses.

My father tried to make some money by breeding German Shepherds and raising turkeys to be sold at Christmas time. But a rabid dog bit the mother dog, so she and her puppies had to be destroyed. Unable to shoot his own dog, my father requested a policeman to do the job. Adding to his woes, all the turkeys were stolen one night. Those were hard times.

Our landlady, Mrs. Ferdinando, lived nearby, and she had a teenage daughter. Every afternoon, they would listen to “Housewives’ Choice”, a request program on Radio Ceylon. On Sundays, it was “Sunday Choice”. Because their radio was turned-on at a high volume, we enjoyed Hank Locklin, Dean Martin, Jim Reeves, Hank Snow, Eddie Arnold, Harry Belafonte and other popular singers from home. Doris Day’s Que sera sera was the hottest single, and we heard it several times every day.

My brother Roy and I also spent a lot of time in the large, lovely house in front of ours, where the Kuruppu family – parents, a son and a daughter, resided.

We were poor and they were well off. They had electricity, even a fridge! Mrs. Kuruppu was a kind person, and her children, Dilip and Malki, were welcoming to Roy and me. Dilip was a year older to me, and Malki two years younger. Dilip was considered very intelligent, literally a walking encyclopedia, and spent most of his time with books. He brooded, seemed shy, and perhaps had poor social skills. His parents had bought him many toys to distract him from books, and my favorite was a beautiful Hornby train set, “Made in England”, the Rolls Royce of toy trains. It had a green wind-up engine, wagons, stations, signals, bridges, and lengthy, winding tracks.

Especially during the month-long school holidays in April, August, and December, Roy and I spent hours at the Kuruppu home. We played mostly with Dilip’s toys, especially the train set, while he watched. We also chased butterflies in the lovely, spacious garden, breaking off the golden pupae and collecting them in jam jars.

Malki’s personality was the opposite of Dilip’s. She was cheerful and mischievous. Being closer to Roy in age, they played together often. She was proud of her schoolwork and showed me the gold stars on her report card. Today, my granddaughter Nelum reminds me of the Malki I knew.

Mrs. Kuruppu played the piano and taught music and elocution. So, their house was filled with music all the time. She liked us, and we often enjoyed the delicious cakes she baked and the wonderful desserts she made. I am sure we often had meals at their place.

About two years later, we moved to another house closer to the school that Roy and I attended, and to my mother’s place of work. A few years later, Dilip also joined the school, but he was very much the shy loner, and we never spoke again. Years later, I came to know that Dilip had become a lawyer. When I drove past their former home, I saw that it had become the office of a finance company. I did wonder what had happened to the Kuruppu family but did not follow up.

Malki – 60 years later

The year was 2017. Upon her return to Sri Lanka from the States, my sister volunteered to cut hair at a charitable home. One day, after a visit to the home, she was talking about a lonely woman who did not socialize with others, and appeared to be from a well-off family. She mentioned the woman’s name, Malki, and I knew at once that this was our old friend.

About two weeks later, my sister and I visited the home, a lovely, old bungalow away from town, where Malki resides. The residents live in a cheerful, caring environment, all placed there due to being mentally or physically handicapped.

My sister had already mentioned to her that George and Roy were her brothers, and Malki recognized me at once.

We talked. Or I asked and she answered, looking away and never meeting my eyes. She had been brought to the home about ten years earlier, after her mother passed away. Other than an occasional visit by a cousin, she had no visits from relatives. Malki had attended prestigious girls’ schools. Later, she had taught music and elocution, like her mother. Her father had died more than twenty years ago and her mother more recently. She had not seen her brother Dilip since coming to the Home.

Although some visitors to the Home knew of the Kuruppu family, and had even studied music or elocution from Mrs. Kuruppu or Malki herself, the manager of the Home told me that no one appeared to be interested in her family, least of all about Dilip.

Later, I learned that Malki was on psychiatric medication. Her teeth are in bad shape, but there are no other outward signs of poor health. Malki was liked at the home, because, at the slightest invitation, she would sit at the battered upright piano and play favorites songs from the 60s and 70s. At my request, she played Que sera sera, but I could barely recognize the tune.

When I asked to see a photo of her family, Malki told me she had none. I was saddened because, for ten years at the home, she didn’t even have a photo of her family to find some comfort. I thought she would be very lonely and decided to meet Dilip and get a photo. When asked, Malki gave me his address, repeating it mechanically.

Dilip – After 60+ years

Dilip still lived in the old neighborhood, at a house not far from where the Kuruppu family had resided in the 1950s. Knowing his mental background, I didn’t expect to see him living in comfort. But, not in my wildest dreams did I anticipate the neglect and squalor I encountered.

The house, almost at the end of a quiet, narrow lane, was large but neglected. I stood near his padlocked gate and yelled “DILIP”. An apparition emerged, a withered, bent old man in a filthy, strung-up sarong, staring bleakly out at me through dirty spectacles. The specks of white on the bony chest, which I first assumed was paint, turned out to be spilled grains of rice. I thought it was a servant, but I barely opened my mouth again before the man said “George Braine”. It was Dilip, and he had recognized me after all those years.

I was in shock but managed to carry on a short conversation with him. He clearly remembered our childhood days, even the name of the dog that had to be put down (“Rani”). He knew that my brother Roy had passed away. I told him that I had seen Malki, and he quickly said that she was sent to the home because she had a breakdown. He had never visited her. I asked him how he spent his time and asked him if I could bring some reading material. When I mentioned The New Yorker magazine, he perked-up, talking about Harold Ross and Tina Brown, former editors of the magazine, and James Thurber and a few other cartoonists and writers. He did not unlock the gate for me, saying that someone had threatened him, and a burglar had tried to break-in.

A few days later, I returned to the home, photographed Malki, and videoed her at the piano.

Later, I visited Dilip, armed with a pile of old New Yorker magazines and some snacks. This time, he quickly unlocked the gate for me, and I walked into a dark, damp, filthy hovel, the scattered furniture coated with grime, the entire floor and even the beds piled with garbage. One room was littered with empty 2-liter Coca Cola bottles. Another, with mounds of old books and papers piled high on the bed and the floor. The electricity had been cut off, and the roof leaked. The two toilets were horrors. Dilip’s life seemed straight out of a dark Gothic novel.

We sat and talked. His only income is Rs. 14,000/ per month, from a bank deposit. He said he had life interest ownership of the house, and that it would belong to a cousin upon his demise. “What about Malki?” I asked, and Dilip then said she had co-ownership of the house. He talked briefly about his life as a lawyer. (I don’t think he ever argued a case, and perhaps he only handled paperwork.) He talked about the time Malki became unbalanced, saying it was when she was told, wrongly, in the 1960s, that her father had passed away. He also mentioned a drunkard uncle. I got the feeling that Dilip had been swindled out of a large amount of money, apparently by a woman.

I showed him the video of Malki playing the piano and asked him if he would like to visit her, or even move to the home where she resided. He emphatically declined, claiming that he was a loner and preferred his “gay bachelor” life. I detected a high degree of resentment towards Malki. He occasionally attended church (not true, as I learned later). When I offered to bring someone to clean-up the house, he said “No, No” and claimed that he cleaned the house himself. Not true; it has not been cleaned in years. As for meals, his lunch was supplied by a neighbor, he said.

With the doors and windows firmly closed, the air was fetid, and I began to feel nauseous and wanted to leave. But Dilip was eager to chat, so I stayed a while longer.

Malki’s photos were on the wall, and Dilip allowed me to borrow them to be copied and given to Malki. He found a leaflet of a memorial service that had been conducted for Mrs. Kuruppu, and autographed it for me, recalling “fond memories of those halcyon days in 1957”. I left with a mental list of items for Dilip when I next visited.

On the way out, I met a neighbor who had lived there for more than twenty years. They remembered the time when Mrs. Kuruppu, Dilip, and Malki lived together in the house. With Mrs. Kuruppu’s passing, the life they knew was gone. Malki was taken away to the home, and Dilip became a recluse. The neighbor told me that some people had tried to take him away, there had been much shouting, but he had refused to be moved.

I drove straight to a church in town (the Kuruppus had worshipped at the church). I spoke at length with the pastor, showing him the photos of Dilip’s house, explaining his plight, and urging the church to intervene. A few days later, I drove the pastor to Dilip’s house and asked if the church could help in cleaning up the place and help in other ways, too. The pastor turned my request down, saying that his congregation consisted mainly of elderly men and women who were unable to perform any physical labor.

I then approached two of the Lions Clubs in town, but they did not respond. I wondered if the Kuruppu family had a dark past that the townspeople were familiar with, and I wasn’t. I had been away from Sri Lanka for more than 30 years, and upon my return, resided more than ten kilometers from the town where Dilip lived.

Keeping an eye

The first step was to rid the house – the four bedrooms, two toilets, spacious sitting room, and kitchen – of all that accumulated filth. I brought two workers, with rakes, hoes and baskets. Wearing face masks and gloves, they worked till late afternoon, clearing the accumulated Coca Cola empties, the books and papers, the old mattress, pillows, and bed sheets. Without electricity in the house, they worked in semi-darkness. We realized that the tiled floor was caked in filth, which had to be scraped off. We piled all that filth in the garden and made a huge bonfire.

I had brought a new mattress, sheets, pillows, and a sarong and T-shirts for Dilip. When cleaning the house, we realized that the water service came only up to a tap in the garden, and Dilip collected a trickle for toilet use. Obviously, he had not washed or bathed in years.

Unable to persuade Dilip to move, or to get the church and the Lions Clubs to help him, and his adamant refusal to leave the house, I realized all I could do was visit him with food and reading material. And, for the next two years, whenever I was in Sri Lanka, that’s what I did.

He would first wolf down all the pastries I brought, and then we would chat, seated on rickety chairs on the dilapidated veranda, the only place with some light. He was pleased with the newspapers, magazines, and books (Hulugalle’s biography of DS Senanayake was one) I had brought. He wanted me to order some law books so that he could begin a magnum opus on the legal system in Sri Lanka. A pipe dream. I also noticed that the interior of the house, which we had cleaned only a couple of months ago, was returning to its filthy state.

I left Sri Lanka in late 2019 and could not return for two years. Dilip did not have a phone, so I could not call while I was away. When I went to Dilip’s house December 2021 and yelled out his name as usual, no one came to the door. The few houses on his lane were all quiet, the people hunkered down because covid was still spreading.

Back in Sri Lanka in February 2024, I again stopped by Dilip’s place, only to see that his house had been completely razed. Not a brick was standing. A neighbor, who had moved there recently, had heard that the man who lived in the house had passed away.

How did Dilip die? Was he alone? Who discovered him? After how many days? In that dark, fetid house, the nights would have been dreadful. The covid lockdowns would have worsened his isolation. But, at last, he was at peace.

An old friend, a gentle, soft-spoken doctor, had died alone in the USA, and was discovered after seven days when the police broke down her door. A retired professor in Hong Kong, a former colleague, was found days after he passed away, alone in his apartment. So, Dilip’s passing resonated.

The Kuruppus had been an old, respected family for generations. A road in town is named after an ancestor. Dilip’s father had been a respected civil servant, with a degree from a top British university. Dilip’s plight, and to a lesser extent that of Malki’s, two children lovingly brought up by doting parents, is indeed a tragedy.

“Que será, será
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours to see
Que será, será
What will be, will be”
(Note: Names of people and places have been changed.)

By George Braine ✍️

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Features

Mannar’s silent skies: Migratory Flamingos fall victim to power lines amid Wind Farm dispute

Published

19 hours ago

2026/03/26

Sahan Weerasooriya

Victims: Flamingos / Birds found dead in Mannar

By Ifham Nizam

A fresh wave of concern has gripped conservationists following the reported deaths of migratory flamingos within the Vankalai Sanctuary—a globally recognised bird habitat—raising urgent questions about the ecological cost of large-scale renewable energy projects in the region.

The incident comes at a time when a fundamental rights petition, challenging the proposed wind power project, linked to India’s Adani Group, remains under examination before the Supreme Court, with environmental groups warning that the very risks they highlighted are now materialising.

At least two flamingos—believed to be part of the iconic migratory flocks that travel thousands of kilometres to reach Sri Lanka—were found dead after entanglement with high-tension transmission lines running across the sanctuary. Another bird was reportedly struggling for survival.

Professor Sampath Seneviratne, a leading ornithologist, expressed deep concern over the development, noting that such incidents are not isolated but indicative of a broader and predictable threat.

“These migratory birds depend on specific flyways that have remained unchanged for centuries. When high-risk infrastructure, like poorly planned power lines, intersect these routes, collisions become inevitable,” he said. “What we are witnessing now could be just the beginning if proper mitigation measures are not urgently implemented.”

Environmentalists argue that the Mannar region—particularly the Vankalai wetland complex—is one of the most critical stopover sites in South Asia for migratory waterbirds, including flamingos, pelicans, and various species of waders. The sanctuary’s ecological value has also supported a niche with growing eco-tourism sector, drawing birdwatchers from around the world.

Executive Director of the Centre for Environmental Justice, Dilena Pathragoda, said the incident underscores the urgency of judicial intervention and stricter environmental oversight.

“This tragedy is a direct consequence of ignoring scientifically established environmental safeguards. We have already raised these concerns before court, particularly regarding the location of transmission infrastructure within sensitive bird habitats,” Pathragoda said.

“Renewable energy cannot be pursued in isolation from ecological responsibility. If due process and proper environmental impact assessments are bypassed or diluted, then such losses are inevitable.”

Conservation groups have long cautioned that the installation of wind turbines and associated grid infrastructure—especially overhead transmission lines—within or near sensitive habitats could transform these landscapes into lethal zones for avifauna.

An environmental activist involved in the ongoing legal challenge said the latest deaths validate earlier warnings.

“This is exactly what we feared. Development is necessary, but not at the cost of biodiversity. When projects of this scale proceed without adequate ecological assessments and safeguards, the consequences are irreversible,” the activist stressed.

The debate has once again brought into focus the delicate balance between renewable energy expansion and biodiversity conservation. While wind energy is widely promoted as a clean alternative to fossil fuels, experts caution that “green” does not automatically mean “harmless.”

Professor Seneviratne emphasised that solutions do exist, including rerouting transmission lines, installing bird diverters, and conducting comprehensive migratory pathway studies prior to project approval.

“Globally, there are well-established mitigation strategies. The issue here is not the absence of knowledge, but the failure to apply it effectively,” he noted.

The timing of the incident is particularly worrying. Migratory flamingos typically remain in Sri Lanka until late April or May before embarking on their return journeys. Conservationists warn that if hazards remain unaddressed, larger flocks could face similar risks in the coming weeks.

Beyond ecological implications, experts also highlight potential economic fallout. Wildlife tourism—especially birdwatching—contributes significantly to local livelihoods in Mannar.

Repeated reports of bird deaths could deter eco-conscious travellers and damage the region’s reputation as a safe haven for migratory species.

Environmentalists are now calling for immediate intervention by authorities, including a temporary halt to high-risk operations in sensitive zones, pending a thorough environmental review.

They stress that protecting animal movement corridors—whether elephant migration routes or avian flyways—is a fundamental pillar of modern conservation.

As the controversy unfolds, one question looms large: can Sri Lanka pursue sustainable energy without sacrificing the very natural heritage that defines it?

Pathragoda added that for now, the sight of fallen flamingos in Mannar stands as a stark reminder that development, if not carefully planned, can carry a heavy and irreversible cost.

Features

‘Weaponizing’ religion in the pursuit of power

Published

19 hours ago

2026/03/26

Sahan Weerasooriya

President Donald Trump; miscalculating in M-E / Ayatollah Khomeini; Architect of Iranian Revolution

A picture of US President Donald Trump apparently being prayed for by supporters, appearing in sections of the international media, said it all loud and clear. That is, religion is being flagrantly leveraged or prostituted by politicians single-mindedly bent on furthering their power aspirations.

Although in the case of the US President the trend took on may be an exceptionally graphic or dramatic form, the ‘weaponizing’ of religion is nothing particularly new, nor is it confined to only religiously conservative sections of the West. For example, in South Asia it is an integral part of politics. The ‘South Asian Eight’ are notorious for it and it could be unreservedly stated that in Sri Lanka, the latter’s ethnic conflict would be more amenable to resolution if religion was not made a potent weapon by ambitious politicians of particularly the country’s South.

The more enlightened sections of Christian believers in the US may not have been able to contain their consternation at the sight of the US President apparently being ‘blessed’ by pastors claiming adherence to Christianity. Any human is entitled to be blessed but not if he is leading his country to war without exhausting all the options at his disposal to end the relevant conflict by peaceful means.

More compounded would be his problem if his directives lead to the death of civilians in the hundreds. In the latter case he is stringently accountable for the spilling of civilian blood, that is, the committing of war crimes.

However, the US along with Israel did just that in the recent bombings of Iran, for instance. The majority of the lives lost were those of civilians. If the US President is endowed with a Christian conscience he would have paused to consider that he is guilty of ordering the taking of the life of another human which is forbidden in the teachings of Jesus Christ.

Moreover, the ‘pastors’ praying over the US President should have thought on the above lines as well. May be they were in an effort to curry the President’s favour which is as blame-worthy as legitimizing in some form the taking of civilian lives. Apparently, the realisation is not dawning on all Christian conservatives of the US that some of these ‘pastors’ could very well be the proverbial false prophets and the latter are almost everywhere, even in far distant Sri Lanka.

However, the political reality ‘on the ground’ is that the Christian Right is a stable support base of the Republican Right in the US. Considering this it should not come as a surprise to the seasoned political watcher if the Christian Right, read Christian fundamentalists, are hand-in-glove, so to speak, with President Trump. But it is a scathing indictment on these rightist sections that they are all for perpetrating war and destruction and not for the fostering of peace and reconciliation. Ideally, they should have impressed on their President the dire need to make peace.

That said, political commentators should consider it incumbent on themselves to point out that religion is being ‘weaponized’ in Iran as well. Theocratic rule in Iran has been essentially all about perpetuating the power of the clerical class. The reasons that led to the Islamic Revolution in Iran are complex and the indiscreet Westernization of Iran under the Shah dynasty is one of these but one would have expected Iran to develop from then on into a multi-party, pluralistic democratic state where people would be enjoying their fundamental rights, as enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, for example.

Moreover, Iran should have taken it upon itself to be a champion of world peace, in keeping with its Islamic credentials. But some past regimes in Iran had vowed to virtually bomb Israel out of existence and such regional policy trajectories could only bring perpetual conflict and war. Considering the current state of the Middle East it could be said that the unfettered playing out of these animosities is leading the region and the world to ‘reap the whirlwind’, having recklessly ‘sowed the wind’.

However, religious fundamentalism-inspired conflict and war has spread well beyond the Middle East into almost every region since 1979, the year of the Islamic Revolution in Iran. So much so, knowledgeable opinion now points out that religious identity has come to replace nationalism as a principal shaper of international politics or “geopolitics”, as quite a few sections misleadingly and incorrectly term it.

Elaborating on the decisive influence of religious identity, the well known and far traveled Western journalist Patrick Cockburn says in his authoritative and comprehensive book titled, ‘The Age of Jihad – Islamic State and the Great War for the Middle East’ at page 428 in connection with the war in Chechnya ; ‘If nationalism was not entirely dead, it no longer provided the ideological glue necessary to hold together and motivate people who were fighting a war. Unlike the Islamic faith, it was no longer a belief or a badge of identity for which people would fight very hard.’ (The book in reference was published by VERSO, London and New York).

In his wide coverage of Jihadist Wars the world over Cockburn goes on to state that today a call from a cleric could motivate his followers to lay down no less than their lives for a cause championed by the former. The 9/11 catastrophe alone should convince the observer that this is indeed true.

However, as often pointed out in this column, there is no alternative but to foster peace and reconciliation if a world free of bloodshed and strife is what is being sought. Fortunately we are not short of illustrious persons from the East and West who have shone a light on how best to get to a degree of peace. Besides Mahatma Gandhi of India, who was the subject of this column last week, we have former President of Iran Mohammad Khatami, who made a case for a ‘Dialogue of Civilizations’ rather than a ‘Clash of Civilizations’.

The time is more than ripe to take a leaf from these illustrious personalities, for, the current state of war in the Middle East has raised the possibility of a war that could transcend regional boundaries. The antagonists are obliged to exhaust all the peaceful options with the assistance of the UN system. Besides, war cannot ever have the blessings of the sane.

Features

Venerable Rahula Thera’s 35-year green mission and national Namal Uyana

Published

19 hours ago

2026/03/26

Sahan Weerasooriya

Venerable Rahula Thera

It was 35 years ago, on March 28, 1991, that Venerable Rahula Thera, then a young monk, embarked on a journey to the Na forest in Ulpathagama, Palagama, in the Anuradhapura District. Today, three and a half decades later, this mission stands as living proof of the enduring bond between Buddhist philosophy and the natural world.

Marking the 35th year of this green mission, Rahula Thera’s relentless dedication has transformed the National Namal Uyana into an environmental landmark admired not only across Sri Lanka but around the globe, as well.

When studying the life of Venerable Rahula Thera, one cannot ignore the profound connection between Buddhism and the environment. Buddhism is a philosophy deeply attuned to nature. The historical use of the sacred “Na Ruka” by all four Buddhas: Mangala Buddha, Sumana Buddha, Revata Buddha, and Sobhita Buddha — for enlightenment —demonstrates that from time immemorial, Buddhism has maintained a sacred bond with the Na tree. From the birth of Siddhartha to his enlightenment, the propagation of the Dharma, and even the great Parinirvana, all of these milestones unfolded in verdant, living landscapes.

Venerable Rahula Thera did not embark on the Namal Uyana mission seeking government support or personal gain. His commitment sprang from a deep devotion to the Buddha’s teachings on grove cultivation. A grove cultivator is one who spreads compassion for nature. As the Vanaropa Sutta teaches:

Venerable Rahula Thera reclaimed Namal Uyana which was then under the control of timber smugglers and treasure hunters. The term “Wanawasi” does not merely mean living in a forest; it signifies finding rest and enlightenment through nature, free from the destructive roots of greed, sin, and delusion.

Another defining aspect of Venerable Rahula Thera’s 35-year mission is the purification of the human mind. He has consistently taught the thousands who visit Namal Uyana that a person who loves a tree will never harm another human being. As the Dhamma proclaims:

It is important to remember that Venerable Rahula Thera devoted his life, without fear, speaking the truth and taking necessary action, tirelessly advancing the national mission he began. From 1991 to the present, he has worked with every government elected by the people, maintaining impartiality and independence from political ideology. Yet, he never hesitated to raise his voice fearlessly against any individual, of any rank or party, who committed wrongdoing.

Religious and Social Mission

The National Namal Uyana is not merely a forest; it is a magnificent heritage site, dating back to ancient times. Scattered across the landscape are boundary walls, the remains of ancient monastery complexes, and stone carvings believed to date back to the reign of King Devanampiyatissa. In earlier centuries, this sacred land had served as a meditation sanctuary for hundreds of monks. The name “National Namal Uyana,” by which this ecological and archaeological treasure is known today, was introduced by Venerable Rahula Thera in 1991. The government’s later recognition of the site as the National Namal Uyana stands as a significant achievement for both religion and national heritage.

Venerable Rahula Thera is a monk who has lived a life of renunciation. A striking example of this is his decision not to assume the position of Chief Incumbent of the National Namal Uyana Viharaya, instead entrusting the temple to the Ramanna Nikaya and its trustees. In doing so, he set a precedent for the contemporary Sangha. The Thera himself stated that he was merely the trustee of Namal Uyana, not its owner.

Legacy and Continuing Inspiration

The 35th anniversary of Venerable Wanawasi Rahula Thera’s arrival at Namal Uyana is not merely the commemoration of a period of time; it is a message of nature to future generations. Through his work, the Thera revived the ancient Hela tradition of loving trees and venerating the environment as something sacred. This religious and environmental mission remains unforgettable.

The revival experienced by Namal Uyana, after the arrival of Venerable Wanawasi Rahula Thera, is beyond simple description. Some of the major accomplishments achieved under his leadership include:

* Securing and protecting the largest Rose Quartz (Rosa Thirivana) reserve in South Asia.

* Restoring the Na forest spread across hundreds of acres, providing shelter to numerous rare plants and animal species.

* Transforming the area into a living centre for environmental education, offering practical learning experiences for thousands of schoolchildren and university students.

* Drawing the attention of world leaders and international environmentalists to Sri Lanka’s unique environmental heritage.

In recognition of his immense contribution to environmental conservation, Venerable Rahula Thera was honoured with the Presidential Environment Award and the Green Award in 2004—a significant moment in his life. Yet the Thera himself has always remained devoted to the work rather than the recognition it brings, making such appreciation even more meaningful.