Features
Sinhala Theatre explored in the Seventies
Clearing shelves in a small section of my extensive library, I found quite a few that I had not read, placed there when I was tidying up the books in the main library. I had put them in a new place to read later, but had then forgotten about them. It was salutary that they were rediscovered, and I have since spent many happy hours with them.
One that I found fascinating was a booklet in a series produced in the seventies by the Cultural Affairs Department. This was about Theatre in Sri Lanka, and was by A J Gunawardena, who had become a good friend in the decade after I started working for the British Council. He was a polymath and, though an academic in the field of English at the University of Sri Jayewardenepura, he was an authority on the Arts, and indeed was seconded from there to head the Institute of Aesthetic Studies.
His book on Sinhala Theatre was masterly, providing a succinct introduction to its history with informative details about the various forms it covered. He began with ritual, performed in villages for various reasons, to bring blessings in general or to propitiate supernatural beings on behalf of individual sufferers. From this he moved to Sokari, which also has a ritualistic element, and thence to Kolam, the latter found in the low-country while Sokari was almost exclusively Kandyan. These forms are still recognizably based on ritual, but now they also tell a story, Sokari one story relating to Pattini and Kolam one of three stories, two based on Buddhist lore.
This brief account does not of course do justice to A J’s expert exposition of his subject, but it provided me with a lot of information given his masterly way of putting things together.
The Lakmahal Archive 2
Sinhala Theatre continued
I wrote last week of the fascinating books I found on my shelves at Lakmahal, brought up from the Library to be read in time but then forgotten. Fortunately, my attention was drawn to them when some painting was being done indoors, and I started on them avidly.
Last week, I wrote of the first part of A J Gunawardena’s seventies monograph on Theatre in Sri Lanka. That dealt with folk theatre beginning with its ritualistic base, though moving to performance. Nadagam that he looked at next was totally different in many respects, deriving not from local culture but with Dravidian roots, and spurred on by Catholicism. But A J argues that, while it originated with missionary efforts to spread the faith through using indigenous cultural forms, it merged into existing patterns of Sinhala folk theatre.
Its music had melody, and was central to the performance, with song predominating. And it introduced fictional material, with a stage, that removed the performance from the audience, which had previously simply formed a circle around the performers. But here too there was a preface in which characters were introduced, as was the case with theatre based on ritual. But then there was a complex plot with grand characters.
A J has an interesting argument as to why Nadagam too stayed in the village, which is that there was no dramatic tradition in Sinhala literature, and hence the literati rather looked down on this. It took a totally external impetus to bring theatre to the cities. This came about through what was termed Nurti, performed by a Parsi theatrical company from Bombay.
This phenomenon transformed performance in South and South East Asia too, though in Sri Lanka it gave rise to Sinhala plays based on similar material. This was the first time a theatre was employed, with backdrop and wings, in an enclosed space, and soon enough theatres were built in Colombo while elsewhere performances took place wherever basic stage facilities were available.
A J notes that the most prolific writer of plays in the Nurti tradition was John de Silva, after whom the first state built theatre in the country is named. He notes that he also contributed to the social changes taking place in the country in that he attacked blind imitation of the West, and affirmed a rising national consciousness.
But Nurti faded away when cinema arrived, and though it had another lease of life with plays – characterized as Jayamanne plays – with stronger social messages, as for instance through criticism of caste distinctions and the dowry system, those too had to yield to the cinema and indeed the Jayamannes ‘became the first star names of the Sinhala screen’.
But meanwhile Modern Sinhala Drama as it is still thought of emerged, initially A J says through the Western-educated intelligentsia. International models were performed in translation and through adaptations. And though the audiences were small, they helped to develop a stage language free of rhetoric and what A J calls the bombast of the Jayamanne plays.
The Lakmahal Archive 3
Sinhala Theatre continued
I have dwelt long and lovingly on A J Gunawardena’s Theatre in Sri Lanka because, though I realize my synopsis can be but superficial, it helps me put in place elements I had vague ideas about, but which I had not really put together properly. And all this made me understand more what a wonderful person A J was, learned without pretention, tolerant of all cultural elements, and full of warmth towards those with whom he interacted.
I had many interactions with him in the eighties, when I persuaded him to become President of the English Association, which had previously been the preserve of the traditional universities. And in the early nineties I joined him in Paris when he went with a dance troupe for a scintillating performance, and when he arranged for me to stay with the former Alliance Director, Robert Vigneau, with whom he had kept up since the sixties.
From the experiments with contemporary Western writers, A J moved to the event that transformed Sinhala theatre and created a popularity that has never waned. This was Ediriweera Sarachchandra’s Maname, performed in 1956, which was a watershed year for the country. He did this in the Nadagam style, but transformed the content into a forceful psychological drama, with poetically rich language and rousing music.
Incidentally it was A J’s wife Trilicia Abeykoon, as she then was, who played the queen in Maname during its first production. He does not mention this, but the monograph brought back thoughts too of her, also a wonderfully sympathetic individual, devoted to A J and rendered miserable when he died young. She followed him to the grave the following year.
A J does not mention names of plays and playwrights after Maname, but he talks about how the audience for modern theatre kept increasing, and included people of different levels. Makers of plays were still then from the intelligentsia but they were no longer of a bilingual background. A J notes how they dealt increasingly with the processes of social and cultural change, and he mentions too the encouragement offered by the Ministries of Education and of Cultural Affairs, with their sponsorship of drama competitions.
But he notes that all this happens despite theatre being a part-time occupation, with its practitioners having to earn their living in other ways. There are no established theatre groups and playwrights, generally their own producers, get people together for performances and then the group disbands.
I am now out of touch with the cultural world, so that I cannot make any claims with confidence. But I suspect we have no one of the wide erudition of A J, who could write a book today to encompass so much so succinctly.
The Lakmahal Archive
Sinhala Theatre
When earlier this year I got painted the new balcony leading from the corridor outside my bathroom, and joined with a staircase to my little walled garden, I painted again the walls in the garden, and also those in that corridor. At the end of it I had put up some shelves, where there was a miscellaneous collection of books, and sadly I found that some had been damaged by damp, so eaten by termites. Janaki had pointed out to me some months back the presence of termites and we got rid of them, the trusty chaps from Suren Cooke doing a great job. So, the damage was limited, though I did have to throw away a few books.
Clearing the shelves for the walls to be painted meant that I examined the books, and found quite a few that I had not read, placed there when I was tidying up the library by getting rid of the extra cupboards my father had built to take the overflow. But after we had donated several of his books, those cupboards went outside, and are now in the little bookstore I have set up in the driveway. They house the extra copies of books I had written and had printed in unnecessary bulk, for instance the book about the Liberal Party on its 25th anniversary, when I little thought that three years later the Party would embark on a long, slow death.
I realized that the books I had taken upstairs, and put in what were then new shelves in the corridor outside the bathroom were ones I intended to read, but had then forgotten about. It was salutary then that they were rediscovered, and I could get into them before further destruction occurred.
One of those that I found fascinating was a booklet in a series produced in the seventies by the Cultural Affairs Department. This was about Theatre in Sri Lanka, and was by A J Gunawardena who had become a good friend in the decade after I started working for the British Council. He was a polymath, and though an academic in the field of English at the University of Sri Jayewardenepura, he was an authority on the Arts, and indeed was seconded from there to head the Institute of Aesthetic Studies.
His book on Sinhala Theatre was masterly, providing a succinct introduction to its history with informative details about the various forms it covered. He began with ritual, performed in villages for various reasons, to bring blessings in general or to propitiate supernatural beings on behalf of individual sufferers. From this he moved to Sokari, which also has a ritualistic element, and thence to Kolam, the latter found in the low-country while Sokari was almost exclusively Kandyan. These forms are still recognizably based on ritual, but now they also tell a story, Sokari one story relating to Pattini and Kolam one of three stories, two based on Buddhist lore.
This brief account does not of course do justice to A J’s expert exposition of his subject, but it provided me with a lot of information given his masterly way of putting things together.
The Lakmahal Archive 2
Sinhala Theatre continued
I wrote last week of the fascinating books I found on my shelves at Lakmahal, brought up from the Library to be read in time but then forgotten. Fortunately, my attention was drawn to them when some painting was being done indoors, and I started on them avidly.
Last week I wrote of the first part of A J Gunawardena’s seventies monograph on Theatre in Sri Lanka. That dealt with folk theatre beginning with its ritualistic base, though moving to performance. Nadagam that he looked at next was totally different in many respects, deriving not from local culture but with Dravidian roots, and spurred on by Catholicism. But A J argues that, while it originated with missionary efforts to spread the faith through using indigenous cultural forms, it merged into existing patterns of Sinhala folk theatre.
Its music had melody, and was central to the performance, with song predominating. And it introduced fictional material, with a stage, that removed the performance from the audience, which had previously simply formed a circle around the performers. But here too there was a preface in which characters were introduced, as was the case with theatre based on ritual. But then there was a complex plot with grand characters.
A J has an interesting argument as to why Nadagam too stayed in the village, which is that there was no dramatic tradition in Sinhala literature, and hence the literati rather looked down on this. It took a totally external impetus to bring theatre to the cities. This came about through what was termed Nurti, performed by a Parsi theatrical company from Bombay.
This phenomenon transformed performance in South and South East Asia too, though in Sri Lanka it gave rise to Sinhala plays based on similar material. This was the first time a theatre was employed, with backdrop and wings, in an enclosed space, and soon enough theatres were built in Colombo while elsewhere performances took place wherever basic stage facilities were available.
A J notes that the most prolific writer of plays in the Nurti tradition was John de Silva, after whom the first state built theatre in the country is named. He notes that he also contributed to the social changes taking place in the country in that he attacked blind imitation of the West, and affirmed a rising national consciousness.
But Nurti faded away when cinema arrived, and though it had another lease of life with plays – characterized as Jayamanne plays – with stronger social messages, as for instance through criticism of caste distinctions and the dowry system, those too had to yield to the cinema and indeed the Jayamannes ‘became the first star names of the Sinhala screen’.
But meanwhile Modern Sinhala Drama as it is still thought of emerged, initially A J says through the Western-educated intelligentsia. International models were performed in translation and through adaptations. And though the audiences were small, they helped to develop a stage language free of rhetoric and what A J calls the bombast of the Jayamanne plays.
The Lakmahal Archive 3
Sinhala Theatre continued
I have dwelt long and lovingly on A J Gunawardena’s Theatre in Sri Lanka because, though I realize my synopsis can be but superficial, it helps me put in place elements I had vague ideas about, but which I had not really put together properly. And all this made me understand more what a wonderful person A J was, learned without pretention, tolerant of all cultural elements, and full of warmth towards those with whom he interacted.
I had many interactions with him in the eighties, when I persuaded him to become President of the English Association, which had previously been the preserve of the traditional universities. And in the early nineties I joined him in Paris when he went with a dance troupe for a scintillating performance, and when he arranged for me to stay with the former Alliance Director, Robert Vigneau, with whom he had kept up since the sixties.
From the experiments with contemporary Western writers, A J moved to the event that transformed Sinhala theatre and created a popularity that has never waned. This was Ediriweera Sarachchandra’s Maname, performed in 1956, which was a watershed year for the country. He did this in the Nadagam style, but transformed the content into a forceful psychological drama, with poetically rich language and rousing music.
Incidentally it was A J’s wife Trilicia, Abeykoon as she then was, who played the queen in Maname during its first production. He does not mention this, but the monograph brought back thoughts too of her, also a wonderfully sympathetic individual, devoted to A J and rendered miserable when he died young. She followed him to the grave the following year.
A J does not mention names of plays and playwrights after Maname, but he talks about how the audience for modern theatre kept increasing, and included people of different levels. Makers of plays were still then from the intelligentsia but they were no longer of a bilingual background. A J notes how they dealt increasingly with the processes of social and cultural change, and he mentions too the encouragement offered by the Ministries of Education and of Cultural Affairs, with their sponsorship of drama competitions.
But he notes that all this happens despite theatre being a part-time occupation, with its practitioners having to earn their living in other ways. There are no established theatre groups and playwrights, generally their own producers, get people together for performances and then the group disbands.
I have long wondered why there has been no attempt to set up a National Theatre, and when I was in Parliament, I asked a question about this. The Minister of Cutural Affairs, the grotesque T B Ekanayake – one of the more preposterous choices for the Cabinet of Mahinda Rajapaksa in his sad second incarnation – said there was, for him a Theatre meant a building, not performances within it, a troupe, a training programme for young people.
I am now out of touch with the cultural world, so that I cannot make any claims with confidence. But I suspect we have no one of the wide erudition of A J who could write a book today to encompass so much so succinctly.
by Prof. Rajiva Wijesinha ✍️
Features
NASA’s Epic Flight, Trump’s Epic Fumble and Asian Dilemmas
Three hours after the spectacular Artemis II flight launch in Florida, US President Donald Trump delivered a forlorn speech from Washington. Thirty three days after starting the war against Iran as Epic Fury, the President demonstrated on national and global televisions the Epic Fumble he has made out of his Middle East ‘excursion’. It was an April Fool’s Day speech, 20 minutes of incoherent rambling with the President looking bored, confused, disengaged and dispirited. He left no one wiser about what will come next, let alone what he might do next.
There was more to April Fool’s Day this year in that it brought out the nation’s good, bad and the ugly, all in a day’s swoop. The good was the Artemis II flight carrying astronauts farther from the Earth’s orbit and closer to the moon for the first time in over 50 years. The mission is a precursor for future flights and will test the performance of a new spacecraft, gather new understanding of human conditioning, and extend the boundaries of lunar science. It is a testament to humankind being able to make steady progress in science and technology at one end of a hopelessly uneven world, while poverty, bigotry and belligerence simmer violently at the other end.
Terrible Trump
The four Artemis II astronauts, three Americans, Reid Wiseman, Victor Glover, and Christina Koch, and one Canadian, Jeremy Hansen, are also symptomatic of the endurance of America’s inclusive goodness in spite of efforts by the Trump Administration to snuff the nation’s fledgling DEI (Diversity, Equity and Inclusion) ethos. To wit, of the four astronauts, Victor Glover, a Caribbean American, is the first person of colour, Christina Koch the first woman, and Jeremy Hansen of Canada the first non-American – to fly this far beyond the earth’s orbit. All in spite of Trump’s watch.
Yet Trump managed to showcase his commitment to America’s ugliness, on the same day, by presenting himself at the Supreme Court hearing on the constitutionality of his most abominable Executive Order – to stop the American tradition of birthright citizenship. He keeps posting that America is Stupid in being the only country in the world that grants citizenship at birth to everyone born in America, regardless of the status of their parents, except the children of foreign diplomats or members of an occupying enemy force. In fact, there are 32 other countries in the world that grant birthright citizenship, a majority of them in the Americas indicating the continent’s history as a magnet for migrants ever since Christopher Columbus discovered it for the rest of the world.
And birthright citizenship in the US is enshrined in the constitution by the 14th Amendment, supplemented by subsequent legislation and reinforced by a century and a half of case law. Trump wants to reverse that. Thus far and no further was the message from the court at the hearing. A decision is expected in June and the legal betting is whether it would be a 7-2 or 8-1 rebuke for Trump. In a telling exchange during the hearing, when the government’s Solicitor General John Sauer quite sillily dramatized that “we’re in new world now … where eight billion people are one plane ride way from having a child who’s a US citizen,” Chief Justice John Roberts quietly dismissed him: “Well, it’s a new world. It’s the same Constitution!”
Trump’s terrible ‘bad’ is of course the war that he started in the Middle East and doesn’t know how to end it. Margaret MacMillan, acclaimed World War I historian and a great grand daughter of World War I British Prime Minister Lloyd George from Wales, has compared Trump’s current war to the origins of the First World War. Just as in 1914, small Serbia had pulled the bigger Russia into a war that was not in Russia’s interest, so too have Netanyahu and Israel have pulled Trump and America into the current war against Iran. World War I that started in August, 2014 was expected to be over before Christmas, but it went on till November, 2018. Weak leaders start wars, says MacMillan, but “they don’t have a clear idea of how they are going to end.”
There are also geopolitical and national-political differences between the 1910s and 2020s. America’s traditional allies have steadfastly refused to join Trump’s war. And Trump is under immense pressure at home not to extend the war. This is one American war that has been unpopular from day one. The cost of military operations at as high as two billion dollars a day is anathema to the people who are aggravated by rising prices directly because of the war. Trump’s own mental acuity and the abilities of his cabinet Secretaries are openly under question. There are swirling allegations of military contract profiteering and selective defense investments – one involving Secretary of War Pete Hegseth.
Trump’s Administration is coming apart with sharp internal divisions over the war and government paralysis on domestic matters. There are growing signs of disarray – with Trump firing his Attorney General for not being effective prosecuting his political enemies and Secretary Hegseth ordering early retirement for Army Chief of Staff Randy George. In America’s non-parliamentary presidential system, Trump is allowed to run his own forum where he lies daily without instant challenger or contradiction, and it is impossible to get rid of his government by that simple device called no confidence motion.
Asian Dilemmas
Howsoever the current will last or end, what is clear is that its economic consequences are not going to disappear soon. Iran’s choke on the Strait of Hormuz has affected not only the supply and prices of oil and natural gas but a family of other products from fertilizers to medicines to semiconductors. The barrel price of oil has risen from $70 before the war to over $100 now. After Trump’s speech on April 1, oil prices rose and stock prices fell. The higher prices have come to stay and even if they start going down they are not likely to go down to prewar levels.
There are warnings that with high prices, low growth and unemployment, the global economy is believed to be in for a stagflation shock like in the 1970s. Even if the war were to end sooner than a lot later, the economic setbacks will not be reversed easily or quickly. Supplies alone will take time to get back into routine, and it will even take longer time for production in the Gulf countries to get back to speed. Not only imports, but even export trading and exports to Middle East countries will be impacted. The future of South Asians employed in the Middle East is also at stake.
In 1980, President Carter floated the Carter Doctrine that the US would use military force to ensure the free flow of oil through the Strait of Hormuz. Trump is now upending that doctrine – first by misusing America’s military force against Iran and provoking the strait’s closure, and then claiming that keeping the strait open is not America’s business. Ever selfish and transactional, Trump’s argument is that America is now a net exporter of oil and is no longer dependent on Middle East oil.
To fill in the void, and perhaps responding to Trump’s call to “build up some delayed courage,” UK has hosted a virtual meeting of about 40 countries to discuss modalities for reopening the Strait of Hormuz. US was not one of them. While Downing Street has not released a full list of attendees, European countries, some Gulf countries, Canada, Australia, Japan and India reportedly attended the meeting. Which other Asian countries attended the meeting is not known.
British Foreign Secretary Yvette Cooper has blamed Iran for “hijacking” an international shipping route to “hold the global economy hostage,” while insisting that the British initiative is “not based on any other country’s priority or anything in terms of the US or other countries”. French President Emmanuel Macron now visiting South Korea has emphasized any resolution “can only be done in concert with Iran. So, first and foremost, there must be a ceasefire and a resumption of negotiations.”
Prior to the British initiative focussed on the Strait of Hormuz, Egypt, Pakistan and Türkiye have been playing a backdoor intermediary role to facilitate communications between the US and Iran. Trump as usual magnified this backroom channel as serious talks initiated by Iran’s ‘new regime’, and Trump’s claims were promptly rejected by Iran. There were speculations that Pakistan would host a direct meeting between US Vice President JD Vance and an Iranian representative in Islamabad. So far, only the foreign ministers of Egypt, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and Türkiye have met in Islamabad, and Pakistan’s Foreign Minister Ishaq Dar flew to Beijing to brief his Chinese counterpart, Wang Yi, of Pakistan’s diplomatic efforts.
The Beijing visit produced a five-point initiative calling for a ceasefire, the opening of the Strait of Hormuz and diplomacy instead of escalation. The five-point pathway seems a follow up to the 15-point demand that the US sent to Iran through the three Samaritan intermediaries which Iran rejected as they did not include any of Iran’s priorities. The state of these mediating efforts are now unclear after President Trump’s April Fool’s Day rambling. In fairness, Pakistan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs has announced that his country intends to keep ‘nudging’ the US and Iran towards resuming negotiations and ending the war.
While these efforts are welcome and deserve everyone’s best wishes, they have also led to what BBC has called the “chatter in Delhi” – “is India being sidelined” by Pakistan’s intermediary efforts? Indian Foreign Minister Jaishankar’s rather undiplomatic characterization of Pakistan’s role as “dalali” (brokerage) provoked immediate denunciation in Islamabad, while Indian opposition parties are blaming the Modi Government’s foreign policy stances as an “embarrassment” to India’s stature.
The larger view is that while it is Asia that is most impacted by the closure of Hormuz, with Singapore’s Foreign Affairs Minister Vivian Balakrishnan calling it an “Asian crisis”, Asia has no leverage in the matter and Asian countries have to make special arrangements with Iran to let their ships navigate through the Strait of Hormuz. There is no pathway for co-ordinated action. China is still significant but not consequentially effective. India’s all-alignment foreign policy has made it less significant and more vulnerable in the current crisis. And Pakistan has opened a third dimension to Asia’s dilemmas.
In the circumstances, it is fair to say that Sri Lanka is the most politically stable country among its South Asian neighbours. Put another way, Sri Lanka has a remarkably consensual and uncontentious government in comparison to the old governments in India and Pakistan, and even the new government in Bangladesh. But that may not be saying much unless the NPP government proves itself to be sufficiently competent, and uses the political stability and the general goodwill it is still enjoying, to put the country’s economic department in order. More on that later.
by Rajan Philips
Features
Ranjith Siyambalapitiya turns custodian of a rare living collection
From Parliament to Fruit Grove:
After more than two decades in politics, rising to the positions of Cabinet Minister and Deputy Speaker of Parliament, Ranjith Siyambalapitiya has turned his attention to a markedly different arena — one far removed from parliamentary debate and political intrigue.
Today, Siyambalapitiya spends much of his time tending to a sprawling 15-acre home garden at Vendala in Karawanella, near Ruwanwella, nurturing what has gradually evolved into one of the most remarkable private fruit collections in the country.
Situated in Sri Lanka’s Wet Zone Low Country agro-ecological region (WL2), Ruwanwella lies at an elevation of roughly 100–200 metres above sea level. Deep red-yellow podzolic soils, annual rainfall exceeding 2,500 millimetres, and a warm humid tropical climate combine to create conditions that make the region one of the richest areas in the island for fruit tree diversity.
Within this favourable ecological setting, Siyambalapitiya has become what may best be described as a custodian of a living collection—a fruit grove that now contains around 554 fruit trees and vines, many of them rare or seldom seen in contemporary agriculture.
Of these, 448 varieties have already been properly identified and documented with the assistance of agriculturist Dr. Suba Heenkenda, a retired expert of the Department of Agriculture. Together they have undertaken the painstaking task of cataloguing the plants by their botanical names, common Sinhala names, and the names used in ancient Ayurvedic and indigenous medical texts, assigning each species a unique identification number.
According to Siyambalapitiya, the Vendala estate is possibly the only single location in Sri Lanka where such a large number of fruit varieties—particularly rare and underutilized species—are maintained within one property.
“This garden came down to me through my grandfather, grandmother, mother and father,” he says. “It is a place shaped by three generations.”
The estate, he explains, began as a traditional home garden where crops such as tea, coconut and rubber were cultivated alongside fruit trees planted by family members over decades. Over time, however, it evolved into something much larger: a carefully nurtured grove preserving both common and obscure fruit species.
Siyambalapitiya recalls with affection one of the oldest trees in the garden—a honey-jack tree known locally as “Lokumänike’s Rata Kos Gaha.”
The story behind it has become part of family lore. According to village elders, his grandmother had brought home the sapling after visiting the Colombo Grand Exhibition in 1952 many decades ago and planted it near the house.
The tree soon gained fame in the village. Its tender jackfruit proved ideal for curry and mallum, while the ripe fruit was renowned for its sweetness.
“Ripe jackfruit from this tree tastes like honey itself,” Siyambalapitiya says. “Even the seeds are full of flour and can be eaten throughout the year.”
Yet age has not spared the venerable tree. It now shows signs of disease, and Siyambalapitiya and his staff have had to treat old wounds and monitor unusual bark damage.
“Once lightning struck it,” he recalls. “The largest branch began to die. Saving the tree required what I would call a kind of surgical operation.”
Such care, he says, reflects the deep attachment he feels toward the collection.
His fascination with fruit trees began in childhood. While attending Royal College in Colombo and living in a boarding house he disliked, Siyambalapitiya would insist that the family procure new fruit saplings for him to plant during his weekend visits home.
“That was the only ‘price’ I demanded for going to school,” he laughs.
Over the years the collection expanded steadily as he encountered new plants in forests, nurseries, and rural landscapes across the island.
The result today is a grove that includes traditional Sri Lankan fruit species, underutilized native varieties, forest fruits, and plants introduced from overseas.
Some species originate in Arabian deserts, while others thrive naturally in cooler climates such as Europe. Certain plants require greenhouse-like conditions, while others are hardy forest trees.
Managing such diversity is no easy task.
“One plant asks for rain, another asks for cold, and yet another prefers heat,” Siyambalapitiya explains. “Too much rain makes some sick, too much sun troubles others. The older trees overshadow the younger ones. You cannot feed or medicate them all in the same way.”
He compares the task to caring for a household filled with people from many nations and ages—each with different needs.
Despite the challenges, he believes the effort is worthwhile, particularly because many of the trees are native species that have become increasingly rare.
“If things continue as they are, some of these plants may disappear from our lives,” he warns.
To preserve knowledge about them, Siyambalapitiya is preparing to launch a book titled “Mage Vendala Palathuru Arana” (My Vendala Fruit Grove), which serves as an introductory guide to the collection.
The book, scheduled for release on April 18 at the Vendala estate, will be attended by Ven. Dr. Kirinde Assaji Thera, Chief Incumbent of Gangaramaya Temple,
Uruwarige Wannila Aththo, the leader of the Indigenous Vedda Community,
a long-serving former employee who helped maintain the plantation, and Sunday Dhamma school students from the region, who will participate as guests of honour.
The publication will also mark Siyambalapitiya’s eighth book. Previously he authored seven works and wrote more than 500 weekly newspaper columns offering commentary on politics and current affairs.
While working on the fruit catalogue, he is simultaneously writing another volume reflecting on his 25-year political career, including his tenure as Deputy Finance Minister during Sri Lanka’s most severe economic crisis.
For Siyambalapitiya, however, the fruit grove represents more than a hobby or academic exercise.
“The fruit we enjoy is the result of a tree’s effort to reproduce,” he says. “Nature has given fruits their taste, fragrance and colour to attract us. All the tree asks in return is that its seeds be carried to new places.”
That simple cycle of life, he believes, has continued for tens of thousands of years.
“And those who love trees,” he adds, “are guardians of the world’s survival.”
by Saman Indrajith
Pix by Tharanga Ratnaweera
- Four workers in charge of the four zones of the plantation
- Siyamabalapitiya explaning the evolution of plantation
- A foreign berry plant
- A Bakumba plant
- A rare jackfruit tree
- Siyambalapitiya pruning Pumkin Lemon plant
- Siyamabalapitiya explaning the evolution of plantation
Features
Smoke Free Sweden calls out to WHO not to suggest nicotine alternatives
It has been reported by the international advocacy initiative, ‘Smoke Free Sweden’ (‘SFS’) that many International health experts have begun criticizing the World Health Organization (WHO) for presenting safer nicotine alternatives rather than recognizing its role in accelerating decline in smoking.
As the world’s premier technical health agency, the WHO is empowered to support strategies that reduce morbidity and mortality even if they do not eliminate the underlying behaviour. Furthermore, it should base its guidance on evolving scientific knowledge, which includes comparative-risk assessments. Equating smoke-free nicotine alternatives with combustible cigarettes, is essentially putting lives at risk, according to the health experts contacted by SFS.
The warning follows recent WHO comments suggesting that vaping and other non-combustible nicotine products are driving tobacco use in Europe. This narrative ignores real-world evidence from countries like Sweden where access to safer alternatives has coincided with record low smoking rates.
A “Smoke-Free” status is defined as an adult daily smoking prevalence below 5% and Sweden is on the brink of officially achieving this milestone. This is clear proof that pragmatic harm-reduction policies work. Sweden’s success has been driven by adult smokers switching to lower-risk alternatives such as oral tobacco pouches (Snus), oral nicotine pouches and other non-combustible products.
“Vapes and pouches are helping to reduce risk, and Sweden’s smoke-free transition proves this,” said Dr Delon Human, leader of Smoke Free Sweden. “We should be celebrating policies that help smokers quit combustible tobacco, not spreading fear about the very tools that are accelerating the decline of cigarettes.”
It is further reported by health experts that conflating cigarettes with non-combustible alternatives risks deterring smokers from switching and could slow progress toward reducing tobacco-related disease.
Dr Human emphasized that youth protection and harm reduction are not mutually exclusive.
“It is critically important to safeguard against underage use, but this should be done by targeted, risk-proportionate regulation and proper enforcement, not by sacrificing the right of adults to access products that might save their lives,” he said.
Smoke Free Sweden is calling on global health authorities to adopt evidence-based policies that distinguish clearly between combustible tobacco – the primary cause of tobacco-related death – and lower-risk nicotine alternatives.
“Public health policy must be grounded in science and real-world outcomes,” Dr Human added. “Sweden’s experience shows that when adult smokers are given legal access to safer nicotine alternatives, smoking rates fall faster than almost anywhere else in the world.”
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