Features

Reflecting on Sumitra Peries’ Gehenu Lamai

Published

7 months ago

2025/10/12

(L to R) Vasanti Chathurani, Senaka Perera, Karunasena Jayalath, Ajith Jinadasa, V. Upali Perera, Anton Wickremasinghe, Anandatissa de Alwis, and Lester James Peries at the premier of Gehenu Lamai in 1978

The other day, I had the rare privilege of sitting in the darkened hall of Scope Cinema at the Colombo City Centre, watching the newly restored 4K version of Gehenu Lamai (Girls). It was a haunting experience. The film was released 20 years before I was born, at the height of what we may rightly call the golden age of Sri Lankan cinema. To me, the film was never a stranger. I had caught fragments of it on television over the years. But to see it brought to life on the big screen, in all its restored beauty, was to rediscover it as though for the first time.

What lingered most, even in my childhood, was the music. The genius of the late Nimal Mendis, paired with the lilting voice of the late Neela Wickramasinghe in Viyo Gee, carved an unforgettable memory in my heart. That melody was woven into my life not only through the screen but through the sound of my mother’s hands at the piano, playing Viyo Gee across the years at our home. For me, it was more than a mere song. Happily, my mother accompanied me to the show.

I had the good fortune of knowing the late Sumitra Peries, the director of this masterpiece, in the last year of her life. That friendship, fleeting though it was, is a treasure beyond measure. Restoration and relaunching, after all, is not new to me either. In 2022, I myself authored a book and, with the Tulana Media Unit and Hemapriya Kandamby, restored the 16mm film Little Bike Lost (1956). This pioneering outdoor film, which predated Lester James Peries’s Rekava, returned to life that year. Sumitra herself graced the occasion as Guest of Honour. I remember telling her with the utmost sincerity: “I liked your films more than your husband’s.” She only smiled and replied, “Without Lester, I wouldn’t do mine.”

Sumitra Peries by a Gehenu Lamai film poster

Those words, so simple yet so profound, capture the greatness of the woman. She passed not long after that exchange, but the mark she left upon our nation will not fade. For Sumitra Peries was not merely a filmmaker. She was, and will always remain, a titan of the art — not just in Sri Lanka, but in Asia. Gehenu Lamai, Ganga Addara, Yahalu Yeheli, and her last film, Vaishnavee — which I had the privilege of watching beside her at the KDU auditorium — are not mere films. They are classics. They are monuments. They are works to be enjoyed by the film lover, yes, but also to be studied with reverence by the historian.

In their light, we see not only the beauty of our cinema but the soul of our country.

As a child, watching the poor-quality television print, the weight of these scenes hardly struck me; I found myself listening instead to Neela’s Viyo Gee, distorted on the small screen. But this restoration — carried out by the Film Heritage Foundation in association with the Lester James Peries and Sumitra Peries Foundation — deserves the highest praise. For it allowed me, at last, to absorb, to witness, and to truly enjoy the masterpiece as it was meant to be seen.

Gehenu Lamai,

based on Karunasena Jayalath’s novel by the same name, was Sumitra’s first film. It was first released in 1978. My friend Uditha Devapriya, who knew her far better, has written with great insight, concluding that Gehenu Lamai carried “a sense of sincerity and honesty often absent from subsequent productions.” That sincerity lay not only in its story, but in the balance of its portrayals. Sumitra’s films did not merely explore feminism in Sri Lankan society; they also gave voice to the traditional, conservative, and submissive woman. Nowhere is this clearer than in the contrast between the sisters: Soma (Jenita Samaraweera), embodying a bold, almost defiant femininity, and Kusum (Vasanthi Chathurani), portraying gentleness and submission. This balance, subtle yet consistent, runs through much of her work, though critics too often overlook it.

The storyline reflects many social dilemmas that were relevant in the 1970s and remain so in the 2020s. Gehenu Lamai builds its narrative on the tender yet troubled love affair between Kusum of a lower class, and Nimal (Ajith Jinadasa), from a higher one. Kusum assists Nimal’s mother, and during his visits home during vacations from the University of Peradeniya, he falls deeply in love with her, and vice versa. Yet her heart is shadowed by doubts over his family’s acceptance. The plot turns when Soma wins a beauty contest, while Kusum and Nimal secretly attend. A few onlookers expose them, and gossip soon reaches Kusum’s mother. Though she praises Kusum’s innocence, she hypocritically deems her unworthy of Nimal. Kusum vows to end the affair and leaves her work. Later, Nimal returns as a graduate teacher to the same school, and while Kusum is now his student, she maintains only a formal distance despite ridicule from others. Soma’s fall — pregnancy and abandonment — further deepens the tragedy, with Kusum raising the child as her own. In the final scenes, while Nimal is welcomed back as a Divisional Revenue Officer (DRO), Kusum is left in the shadows, revealed as having failed university and unemployed.

Now this, we may call the general plot. But Gehenu Lamai is far richer than the story alone. Beneath its narrative lie layers, nuances that too often slip past the eye. Let us begin with what is most apparent: the love between two souls divided by class, and the impossibility of bridging that divide. The scorn and ridicule of the upper class towards the lower, the struggle of the village girl Soma to adapt to the glitter and deception of Colombo, the blindness that love so often inflicts. Sumitra, with her lens, seizes these realities with quiet force. They were controversial then, and they remain so now.

Yet what is overlooked, and what I believe Sumitra achieved most beautifully, is her revelation of femininity, a revelation rare in our cinema before Gehenu Lamai. Look closely at Kusum and her friend Padmini (Shyama Ananda). Their intimacy, their shared innocence, their sisterhood. See how Shyama defends Kusum when mocked by others, how she consoles, advises, and protects her. In one of the most tender scenes, a kiss on the cheek between the two girls speaks volumes: not of scandal, but of affection, solidarity, and the unspoken language of womanhood.

Kusum herself, despite her suffering, is never stripped of her grace. She remains radiant, elegant, and deeply affectionate, a figure both fragile and strong, vulnerable yet luminous. And it is here that Vasanthi Chathurani, at only her first appearance on screen, must be remembered with the highest praise. Forty-seven years on, her performance still glows naturally, unforced, and profound. What touched me deeply was Nimal’s tenderness towards his former love when he returned as a teacher to the village. One would expect resentment, even bitterness, after such a sudden break. But Nimal was different. He went the extra mile — handing Kusum his notes, urging her to take her studies seriously, sensing how distracted and lost she had become. Ajith Jinadasa, who had already shone in Lester’s Madol Duwa (1976), carried that same brilliance into Gehenu Lamai. His portrayal of Nimal — gentle, restrained, yet quietly steadfast — remains a testament to his craft.

While I enjoyed the film for its thematic narrative and nuances expressed, I also found two or three devices Sumitra, the film maker could perhaps be responsible for making this not just an excellent film but a classic. One was the direction of cinematography led by S. Ananda. The restored version brought forward a clear idea of how exactly the visual looked like and the devices Sumitra and Ananda may have adopted to make the audience see their perspective. A technique used repeatedly was the manifestation of emotion in mirrors. This was pre-dominantly seen in film such as Bergman’s Persona (1966), Scorsese’s Taxi Driver (1976), and Satyajit Ray’s Charulata (1964).

Mirrors are never neutral. They carry the weight of the unsaid. When a character gazes into one, it signals self-confrontation, fractured identity, or feelings unvoiced. In Gehenu Lamai, Sumitra employs this with delicate precision. The reflections carrying suppressed anxieties, longings, and the tension between the life shown to others and the life lived within. The clearest instance is Kusum’s gradual emotional change upon realizing her bond with Nimal had ended once her mother discovered them.

The zoom into faces was another device. From Hitchcock to Spielberg, many directors have used it to reveal sudden shifts. Sumitra tries this, most memorably when Kusum blurts another’s name as Nimal playfully covers her eyes. Yet at times the zoom falters, slightly out of sync with motion, breaking the rhythm. Finally, the recurring Viyo Gee background singing, almost a jingle, accompanies each poignant moment. Though repetitive, Sumitra uses it aptly anchoring emotion in song, giving memory to feeling.

All in all, I felt deeply privileged to witness the restored Gehenu Lamai. To sit in the hall, watching alongside the very cast who once embodied those unforgettable roles—Chathurani, Jinadasa, and others—was not merely a screening. It was witnessing history return to life before our eyes. The restoration, with its luminous clarity, reveals the genius of Sumitra Peries with a freshness that our generation must not overlook. This film must not remain confined to rare occasions or select audiences. The restored Gehenu Lamai deserves to be made widely available, to circulate across theatres, homes, and especially classrooms. Our schools should seize the opportunity to show it to students, encouraging them to critique and reflect on the powerful message it carries—the silent struggles of class, love, and identity that remain timeless. For in films such as this, we do not just see characters; we see ourselves, our society, and the truths we often turn away from.

By Avishka Mario Senewiratne ✍️

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Features

Cricket and the National Interest

Published

19 hours ago

2026/05/5

Sahan Weerasooriya

The appointment of former minister Eran Wickremaratne to chair the Sri Lanka Cricket Transformation Committee is significant for more than the future of cricket. It signals a possible shift in the culture of governance even as it offers Sri Lankan cricket a fighting possibility to get out of the doldrums of failure. There have been glorious patches for the national cricket team since the epochal 1996 World Cup triumph. But these patches of brightness have been few and far between and virtually non-existent over the past decade. At the centre of this disaster has been the failures of governance within Sri Lanka Cricket which are not unlike the larger failures of governance within the country itself. The appointment of a new reform oriented committee therefore carries significance beyond cricket. It reflects the wider challenge facing the country which is to restore trust in public institutions for better management.

The appointment of Eran Wickremaratne brings a professional administrator with a proven track record into the cricket arena. He has several strengths that many of his immediate predecessors lacked. Before the ascent of the present government leadership to positions of power, Eran Wickremaratne was among the handful of government ministers who did not have allegations of corruption attached to their names. His reputation for financial professionalism and integrity has remained intact over many years in public life. With him in the Cricket Transformation Committee are also respected former cricketers Kumar Sangakkara, Roshan Mahanama and Sidath Wettimuny together with professionals from legal and business backgrounds. They have been tasked with introducing structural reforms and improving transparency and accountability within cricket administration.

A second reason for this appointment to be significant is that this is possibly the first occasion on which the NPP government has reached out to someone associated with the opposition to obtain assistance in an area of national importance. The commitment to bipartisanship has been a constant demand from politically non-partisan civic groups and political analysts. They have voiced the opinion that the government needs to be more inclusive in its choice of appointments to decision making authorities. The NPP government’s practice so far has largely been to limit appointments to those within the ruling party or those considered loyalists even at the cost of proven expertise. The government’s decision in this case therefore marks a potentially important departure.

National Interest

There are areas of public life where national interest should transcend party divisions and cricket, beloved of the people, is one of them. Sri Lanka cannot afford to continue treating every institution as an arena for political competition when institutions themselves are in crisis and public confidence has become fragile. It is therefore unfortunate that when the government has moved positively in the direction of drawing on expertise from outside its own ranks there should be a negative response from sections of the opposition. This is indicative of the absence of a culture of bipartisanship even on issues that concern the national interest. The SJB, of which the newly appointed cricket committee chairman was a member objected on the grounds that politicians should not hold positions in sports administration and asked him to resign from the party. There is a need to recognise the distinction between partisan political control and the temporary use of experienced administrators to carry out reform and institutional restructuring. In other countries those in politics often join academia and civil society on a temporary basis and vice versa.

More disturbing has been the insidious campaign carried out against the new cricket committee and its chairman on the grounds of religious affiliation. This is an unacceptable denial of the reality that Sri Lanka is a plural, multi ethnic and multi religious society. The interim committee reflects this diversity to a reasonable extent. The country’s long history of ethnic conflict should have taught all political actors the dangers of mobilising communal prejudice for short term political gain. Sri Lanka paid a very heavy price for decades of mistrust and division. It would be tragic if even cricket administration became another arena for communal suspicion and hostility. The present government represents an important departure from the sectarian rhetoric that was employed by previous governments. They have repeatedly pledged to protect the equal rights of all citizens and not permit discrimination or extremism in any form.

The recent international peace march in Sri Lanka led by the Venerable Bhikkhu Thich Paññākāra from Vietnam with its message of loving kindness and mindfulness to all resonated strongly with the masses of people as seen by the crowds who thronged the roadsides to obtain blessings and show respect. This message stands in contrast to the sectarian resentment manifested by those who seek to use the cricket appointments as a weapon to attack the government at the present time. The challenges before the Sri Lanka Cricket Transformation Committee parallel the larger challenges before the government in developing the national economy and respecting ethnic and religious diversity. Plugging the leaks and restoring systems will take time and effort. It cannot be done overnight and it cannot succeed without public patience and support.

New Recognition

There is also a need for realism. The appointment of Eran Wickremaratne and the new committee does not guarantee success. Reforming deeply flawed institutions is always difficult. Besides, Sri Lanka is a small country with a relatively small population compared to many other cricket playing nations. It is also a country still recovering from the economic breakdown of 2022 which pushed the majority of people into hardship and severely weakened public institutions. The country continues to face unprecedented challenges including the damage caused by Cyclone Ditwah and the wider global economic uncertainties linked to conflict in the Middle East. Under these difficult circumstances Sri Lanka has fewer resources than many larger countries to devote to both cricket and economic development.

When resources are scarce they cannot be wasted through corruption or incompetence. Drawing upon the strengths of all those who are competent for the tasks at hand regardless of party affiliation or ethnic or religious identity is necessary if improvement is to come sooner rather than later. The burden of rebuilding the country cannot rest only on the government. The crisis facing the country is too deep for any single party or government to solve alone. National recovery requires capable individuals from across society and from different sectors such as business and civil society to work together in areas where the national interest transcends party politics. There is also a responsibility on opposition political parties to support initiatives that are politically neutral and genuinely in the national interest. Not every issue needs to become a partisan battle.

Sri Lanka cricket occupies a special place in the national consciousness. At its best it once united the country and gave Sri Lankans a sense of pride and international recognition. Restoring integrity and professionalism to cricket administration can therefore become part of the larger task of national renewal. The appointment of Eran Wickremaratne and the new committee, while it does not guarantee success, is a sign that the political leadership and people of the country may be beginning to mature in their approach to governance. In recognising the need for competence, integrity and bipartisan cooperation and extending it beyond cricket into other areas of national life, Sri Lanka may find the way towards more stable and successful governance..

by Jehan Perera

Features

From Dhaka to Sri Lanka, three wheels that drive our economies

Published

19 hours ago

2026/05/5

Sahan Weerasooriya

Court vacation this year came with an unexpected lesson, not from a courtroom but from the streets of Dhaka — a city that moves, quite literally, on three wheels.

Above the traffic, a modern metro line glides past concrete pillars and crowded rooftops. It is efficient, clean and frequently cited as a symbol of progress in Bangladesh. For a visitor from Sri Lanka, it inevitably brings to mind our own abandoned light rail plans — a project debated, politicised and ultimately set aside.

But Dhaka’s real story is not in the air. It is on the ground.

Beneath the elevated tracks, the streets belong to three-wheelers. Known locally as CNGs, they cluster at junctions, line the edges of markets and pour into narrow roads that larger vehicles avoid. Even with a functioning rail system, these three-wheelers remain the city’s most dependable form of everyday transport.

Within hours of arriving, their importance becomes obvious. The train may take you across the city, but the journey does not end there. The last mile — often the most complicated part — belongs entirely to the three-wheeler. It is the vehicle that gets you home, to a meeting or simply through streets that no bus route properly serves.

There is a rhythm to using them. A destination is mentioned, a price is suggested and a brief negotiation follows. Then the ride begins, edging into traffic that feels permanently compressed. Drivers move with instinct, adjusting routes and squeezing through gaps with a confidence built over years.

It is not polished. But it works.

And that is where the comparison with Sri Lanka becomes less about what we lack and more about what we already have.

Back home, the three-wheeler has long been part of daily life — so familiar that it is often discussed only in terms of its problems. There are frequent complaints about fares, refusals or the absence of meters. More recently, the industry itself has become entangled in politics — from fuel subsidies to regulatory debates, from election-time promises to periodic crackdowns.

In that process, the conversation has shifted. The three-wheeler is often treated as a problem to be managed, rather than a service to be strengthened.

Yet, seen through the experience of Dhaka, Sri Lanka’s system begins to look far more settled — and, in many ways, ahead.

There is a growing structure in place. Meters, while not perfect, are widely recognised. Ride-hailing apps have added transparency and reduced uncertainty for passengers. There are clearer expectations on both sides — driver and commuter alike. Even small details, such as designated parking areas in parts of Colombo or the increasing standard of vehicles, point to an industry slowly moving towards professionalism.

Just as importantly, there is a human element that remains intact.

In Sri Lanka, a three-wheeler ride is rarely just a transaction. Drivers talk. They offer directions, comment on the day’s news, or share local knowledge. The ride becomes part of the social fabric, not just a means of getting from one point to another.

In Dhaka, the scale of the city leaves less room for that. The interaction is quicker, more direct, shaped by urgency. The service is essential, but it is under constant pressure.

What stands out, across both countries, is that the three-wheeler is not a temporary or outdated mode of transport. It is a necessity in dense, fast-growing Asian cities — one that fills gaps no rail or bus system can fully address.

Large infrastructure projects, like light rail, are important. They bring efficiency and long-term capacity. But they cannot replace the flexibility of a three-wheeler. They cannot reach into narrow streets, respond instantly to demand or provide that crucial last-mile connection.

That is why, even in a city that has invested heavily in modern rail, Dhaka still runs on three wheels.

For Sri Lanka, the lesson is not simply about what could have been built, but about what should be better managed and valued.

The three-wheeler industry does not need to be politicised at every turn. It needs steady regulation — clear fare systems, proper licensing, safety standards — alongside encouragement and recognition. It needs to be seen as part of the solution to urban transport, not as a side issue.

Because for thousands of drivers, it is a livelihood. And for millions of passengers, it is the most immediate and reliable form of mobility.

The tuk-tuk may not feature in grand policy speeches or infrastructure blueprints. It does not run on elevated tracks or attract international attention. But on the ground, where daily life unfolds, it continues to do what larger systems often struggle to do — show up, adapt and keep moving.

And after watching Dhaka’s streets — crowded, relentless, yet functioning — that small, three-wheeled vehicle feels less like something to argue over and more like something to get right.

(The writer is an Attorney-at-Law with over a decade of experience specialising in civil law, a former Board Member of the Office of Missing Persons and a former Legal Director of the Central Cultural Fund. He holds an LLM in International Business Law)

by Sampath Perera recently in Dhaka, Bangladesh

Features

Dubai scene … opening up

Published

19 hours ago

2026/05/5

Sahan Weerasooriya

Seven Notes: Operating in Dubai

According to reports coming my way, the entertainment scene, in Dubai, is very much opening up, and buzzing again!

After a quieter few months, May is packed with entertainment and the whole scene, they say, is shifting back into full swing.

The Seven Notes band, made up of Sri Lankans, based in Dubai, are back in the spotlight, after a short hiatus, due to the ongoing Middle East problems.

On 18th April they did Legends Night at Mercure Hotel Dubai Barsha Heights; on Thursday, 9th May, they will be at the Sports Bar of the Mercure Hotel for 70s/80s Retro Night; on 6th June, they will be at Al Jadaf Dubai to provide the music for Sandun Perera live in concert … and with more dates to follow.

These events are expected to showcase the band’s evolving sound, tighter stage coordination, and stronger audience engagement.

With each performance, the band aims to refine its identity and build a loyal following within Dubai’s vibrant nightlife and event scene.

Pasindu Umayanga: The group’s new vocalist

What makes Seven Notes standout is their versatility which has made the band a dynamic and promising act.

With a growing performance calendar, new talent integration, and international ambitions, the band is definitely entering a defining phase of its journey.

Dubai’s music industry, I’m told, thrives on diversity, energy, and audience connection, with live bands playing a crucial role in elevating events—from corporate shows to private concerts. Against this backdrop, Seven Notes is positioning itself not just as another band, but as a performance-driven musical unit focused on consistency and growth.

Adding fresh momentum to the group is Pasindu Umayanga who joins Seven Notes as their new vocalist. This move signals a strategic upgrade—not just filling a role, but strengthening the band’s front-line presence.

Looking beyond local stages, Seven Notes is preparing for an international tour, to Korea, in July.

Bassist Niluk Uswaththa: Spokesperson for Seven Notes

According to bassist Niluk Uswaththa, taking a band abroad means: Your sound must hold up against unfamiliar audiences, your performance must translate beyond language, and your discipline must be at a professional level.

“If executed well, this tour could redefine Seven Notes from a local band into an emerging international act,” added Niluk.

He went on to say that Dubai is not an easy market. It’s saturated with highly experienced, multi-genre bands that can adapt instantly to any crowd.

“To stand out consistently you need to have tight rehearsal discipline, unique sound identity (not just covers), strong stage chemistry, audience retention – not just applause.”

No doubt, Seven Notes is entering a critical growth phase—new member, multiple shows, and an international tour on the horizon. The opportunity is real, but so is the pressure.

However, there is talk that Seven Notes will soon be a recognised name in the regional music scene.