Features
Sir John takes over, cabinet meeting at N’Eliya and the EL Senanayake election case
(Excerpted from Memoirs of a Cabinet Secretary by BP Peiris)
The first meeting of the new Cabinet placed on record its appreciation of the services rendered to the country by Mr Dudley Senanayake. Sir Kanthiah Vaithianathan, who had resigned his post as Permanent Secretary to the Ministry of Defence and External Affairs, took over the Portfolio of Housing and Social Services.
Sir John was spending a few days in December 1953 at his official residence, The Lodge, Nuwara Eliya. More out of mischief than on grounds of urgency, he summoned the Cabinet to meet at The Lodge on December 31. On the New Year Day following, A. G. Ranasinha, the Secretary, was to receive the honour of knighthood, and I, the O.B.E., and we found the arrangement very inconvenient, but had to obey orders and attend the meeting.
We accordingly travelled to Nanu Oya by the night train on the 30th with office peons and Cabinet security boxes. On reaching our destination early next morning at about six, we found Police cars waiting for us on Sir John’s instructions. On our reaching The Lodge, the cook, Periasamy, was there to greet us, again on Sir John’s orders, with egg hoppers and fish curry, which was most welcome. Sir John was asleep but had given his orders with military precision.
We soon got ready and the meeting started rather early at about 9 a.m. At 11 a.m. drinks were served. Every possible brand of liquor was laid out on a side table, and we were asked to help ourselves. At 1 p.m. there was a short adjournment for lunch, preceded by a few more drinks. An excellent lunch, of mulligatawny, yellow rice and chicken curry was provided by the cook. The meeting terminated early afternoon and we had to while away the time till 5 p.m., when Lord Soulbury had invited us to tea.
Some Ministers preferred to walk on the well-trimmed lawns. Sir John, Bulankulame Dissawa, M. D. Banda, and I were in the sitting room, warming ourselves by the fire when Sir John asked me, “I say, Peiris, aren’t you getting something tomorrow?” The recommendation for the honour is made by the Prime Minister, but the letter inquiring whether I would accept the honour comes from Queen’s House marked ‘Top Secret’.
I therefore replied “I know nothing about it, Sir”, and Sir John told the other Ministers “Look at this chap; I recommend him for the honour and he thinks it is a Cabinet secret and wants to hide it from me. Anyway, I’ll be at your house at 7 p.m. Don’t give lime juice.”
We took the night train back, travelling to Nanu Oya again in Police cars. It was a bit of a rush because the Mayor, Mr Vijayaratnasingham, had a cocktail party in our honour and Ranasinha and I were worried that we would miss our train. Sir John had seen to it that baskets of flowers were put into our cars. True to his word, the Pilot car preceding the Prime Minister’s car turned in at my gate sharp at seven the next evening. He had two whiskeys and was off to be in time at the next place because mine was not the only house of ‘honours’ men he visited that evening.
He was surprised when I asked him in French whether to sing him a French song. He said “Oui, oui, oui” and asked who was going to play. I sat at the piano and, with Sir John standing by me with his glass in his hand, sang a naughty song which Maurice Chevalier used to sing at the Moulin Rouge in Paris in the early thirties, and the words of which no one but Sir John understood. When I was getting to the end of the chorus, he whispered in my ear “Sing the chorus again.” The first line of the chorus was “Dites moi, ma mere, dites moi ma mere pourquoi less chiens daps les rues se months dessous”.
One of the first major questions which the Prime Minister asked his Cabinet to consider was that of bribery and corruption. He was determined, if possible, to stamp this moral stain out of public life. A new law was drafted to be in operation in the first instance for 18 months and to be applicable to public servants only. Charges were to be investigated by the Criminal Investigation Department and the tribunal hearing the charges was to consist of judges or retired judges.
Power was also taken to make the new law applicable, if necessary, to the findings of a Commission appointed to investigate allegations of bribery and corruption against a Senator or Member of Parliament, and it was agreed that any fee or reward paid or given to a Senator or Member of Parliament to appear for any person before a public officer other than a judicial or quasi-judicial officer should be deemed to be a bribe. The Bill was passed into law as Act No. II of 1954, and has been amended more than once to vest additional powers in the Bribery Commissioner.
E. B. Wikramanayake, Q. C. now joined the Cabinet as Minister of Justice. He was a man of few words and did not believe in wasting his time or anyone else’s. In the course of a discussion, he made his point in the fewest possible words.
In December 1953, the Governor-General was informed that Her Majesty the Queen intended to visit Ceylon. The Cabinet considered this communication and agreed that Her Majesty should be invited to open the next Session of Parliament. The Queens’ Speech, which I was asked to make as short as possible, was approved by the Cabinet and an advance copy sent to the Palace.
On the day of Her Majesty’s arrival in Colombo, I found five lines of traffic opposite my house on the Havelock Road moving, from two in the morning, towards the city. The streets were decorated and thronged with people, rich and poor, to welcome the Royal visitors. The weather was more than kind; it was a scorching sun, and the Queen, who rode with His Royal Highness Prince )Philip in an open car had a parasol for protection.
I watched the procession from a vantage point in the Dutch Burgher Union in Bullers Road. Persons were perched on the roofs of the houses opposite. ‘The welcome accorded to the Royal couple was rousing as well as spontaneous. The impression that I had was first, that the welcome was a natural gesture of loyalty, and secondly, that, with our own monarchical background, our people just cannot resist Royalty and the pageantry that is associated with that institution.
I wonder how many persons noticed the Constitutional aspect of the Royal visit. Her Majesty was Queen of Ceylon, and, though not domiciled here, she was temporarily resident in one of Her Dominions. As such, during Her residence here, the person she had appointed to represent Her in the Island, Lord Soulbury, officially ceased to exist. The Governor-General could not have assented to a Bill nor could he have exercised the Royal prerogative of pardon. The office of the Governor-General was, for the time being, in abeyance. That is the reason for Lord Soulbury’s absence at the Opening of Parliament. In effect, he “took himself away” and stayed in the background.
Her Majesty opened the Third Session of the Second Parliament on April 12, 1954, and read Her Speech in English in a clear voice. Naturally, she could not be asked to comply, as Sir Oliver Goonetilleke did a few years later, with the requirements of our Official Language Act. At the next Cabinet meeting Ministers Vaithianathan and Natesan referred to the fact that, at the presentation of the Addresses, the speeches had been made in English and Sinhala but not in Tamil. They stated that this had caused uneasiness among the Tamil community.
I think the two Tamil Ministers, when they used the word “uneasiness”, exercised the utmost restraint in the use of language and refrained, with great dignity, in giving vent, not only to their own feelings, but to the feelings of the entire Tamil community. To make matters worse, the Prime Minister assured the Cabinet that the omission of a Speech in Tamil was accidental and not intentional, and promised to make a public statement to that effect. Really, I ask, to whom was the Prime Minister talking? To two of the intellectual Ministers in his Cabinet; and was he talking with his tongue in his cheek? Incidents like this though quickly forgotten by the Sinhalese, remain long in the memories of the minority communities as utterly insulting and unnecessary pinpricks inflicted on purpose.
On Her birthday, April 21, Her Majesty held an Investiture at Queen’s House at which A. G. Ranasinha was knighted and I was invested with the insignia of the O.B.E. A Throne had been placed on the dais for the Queen but had to be hurriedly removed a few minutes before Her Majesty’s arrival because, in England, it is customary for the Sovereign to stand throughout an Investiture. His Royal Highness stood one foot behind the Queen throughout the ceremony and looked thoroughly bored.
Immediately after the Investiture, a group photograph was taken of Her Majesty and Her Ceylon Cabinet. The seats were all arranged. The Prime Minister would naturally sit on the Queen’s right. Sir Oliver Goonetilleke wanted to sit on Her Majesty’s left but Minister J. R. Jayewardene insisted that the setting should be according to the Order of Precedence and that he should be on the Queen’s left. By his sojourn abroad, Sir Oliver had come down in the Precedence Table and, in that historic photograph, would have had to stand in the second row if one of the Ministers had not fallen ill and his place taken by an acting Minister.
It is for this reason that Sir Oliver is seen seated, not next to the Queen, but in the last chair. Was it not Pope who said that every man has just as much vanity as he wants understanding? When this squabble about seating had been settled, the Aide-de-Camp was informed that the Ministers were ready. Her Majesty arrived and took her seat. She was so dignified that the photographer did not dare to tell Her to smile or put her left foot forward; but a beautiful photograph was the result. At the end of the ceremony, Sir John, on behalf of the Cabinet, presented Her Majesty with a silver tray as a birthday present.
It was at about this time that my daughter Kamala, to the family and friends known as ‘Binkie’, married the man of her choice, Dr Cecil D. Chelliah, a specialist in the diseases of the chest. As I said before, her Kundasale training had turned out a plain living, high thinking, sensible and efficient woman. D. S. Senanayake was right in his forecast about the girls turned out at Kundasale. The doctor had music in him, and it was music that brought the couple together. In view of this strong community of interests, which was a firmer basis for sound marriage than good looks, a sports car or a tweed suit, my wife and I readily gave our consent.
He was a Tamil and a Christian; but I had no difficulty in coming to a decision as my education had been completely free of any racial or religious bias and hypocrisy. They have two very musically-minded children, Ranjan and Priyantha, whom I prefer to call “Mr Jones” and “Mr Shaw” respectively. Grandpa has had some lovely musical evenings in his retirement with son-in-law, daughter, Jones and Shaw, showing their prowess, jointly and severally, at their different instruments.
Ministers, like women, are entitled to change their minds and their opinions, but on one thing Sir John was firm and never once wavered. He laid it down that, so long as he was in charge of administration of this country, no person would be employed in the public service who was a communist or who belonged to a revolutionary party.
A rather unusual Bill was now considered and later passed into law. The Government Parliamentary Group had passed a resolution regarding the delimitation of electoral districts for Parliamentary elections. Under the first Delimitation Commission, the number of electoral districts for the Island sent ninety-five members to the House of Representatives. Together with the six Appointed members, the total membership of the House was one hundred and one.
A new Commission had been appointed, as required by the Consti tution. Following the 1953 census, which gave the Ceylon population as 8,098,637, giving approximately every 75,000 of the popultion a seat as laid down in the Constitution, the total membership the House, including the Appointed members, would have been of 139. There had been considerable public opinion that the Constitution should be amended so as to limit the number of members.
It was suggested that the total number of sea should be about 108, and it was proposed create three of four additional special seats for Indians and Pakistanis. Sir John accordingly proposed to the Cabinet that the scheme’ adopted. If adopted, it involved an amendment to the Constitution which would require a two-thirds majority in the House of Representatives to pass it into law. The Bill which he submitted was to in force for 10 years and would enable the Government to discharge its obligations under the Indo-Ceylon pact. The proposed legisla- tion would have conferred on persons registered as Citizens of Ceylon under the Indian and Pakistani Residents (Citizenship) Act, a privilege which was not conferred on persons of other communities, namely, separate parliamentary representation for 10 years.
It would also have made persons so registered as Citizens of Ceylon, liable to a disability to which persons of other communities were not made liable, namely, the exclusion of their names for 10 years from the general parliamentary register of elections. The Bill fixed the to number of members of the House of Representatives for all time at 108. The Ceylon Constitution (Amendment) 1 was passed in 1954, limiting the membership of the House. An Act for the creation of a special Indian and Pakistani Electorate was a passed the same year. Nothing came of either of these Acts. The question whether the Acts were valid under section 29 of the Constitution is now academic as both Acts were repealed in 1959.
Soon thereafter, followed another unusual piece of legislation. E. L. Senanayake was elected Member for Kandy in the House of Rep resentatives, but was unseated on an election petition, and the Prime Minister made the following statement in the House of Representatives on February 5, 1954:
“I wish to inform the House that the Member for Kandy has been granted leave to appeal to the Privy Council from the decision of the Supreme Court of Ceylon. The following telegram has been sent by the Crown Solicitors:
“Senanayake special leave granted reserving leave to Attorney-General or respondent to challenge jurisdiction on hearing of appeal stop Board represented appeal should be heard as soon as possible stop Meanwhile most undesirable that certificate should be published or other steps taken consequent upon the declaration before appeal.”
The Government proposed to take steps to avoid unnecessary legal complications in the event of the appeal of the member for Kandy being allowed by the Privy Council. They intended to introduce legislation suspending an Order of the Supreme Court under the Ceylon (Parliamentary Election) Order in Council, pending an appeal to the Privy Council. Meanwhile, the Governor-General had been advised that he should withhold action under the Order in Council, pending the introduction of the Bill. There is no provision of law under which His Excellency is empowered to suspend the steps to be taken under the Order in Council. He was required by law to fix a date for the by-election.
Draft legislation was submitted designed to meet Senanayake’s case. The Bill proposed that where an appeal is taken to the Privy Council, the operation of an Order of the Supreme Court under the Elections Order in Council should be suspended till the decision of the Privy Council in that behalf is known. The legislation was to have retrospective effect to cover the Supreme Court judgment in the Senanayake case.
On advice, the Governor-General suspended action under the Order in Council and did not authorize the holding of a by-election. His action was to be legalized by the proposed legislation. He was to be indemnified against all civil and criminal liability ‘in respect of the noncompliance of the provisions of the Order in Council which required him to order the holding of a fresh election.
Senanayake lost his appeal in the Privy Council and continued to remain out of Parliament. This sort of ad hoc legislation to suit particular persons in most unfortunate. Retrospective legislation is particularly obnoxious and is viewed by the courts with suspicion, but the courts are bound by the laws passed by Parliament.
Features
Quandary of Dengue: Some roving perspectives
Sri Lanka is currently well and truly trapped in the strangling grip of a devastating and severely enhanced dengue outbreak. The numbers alone are staggering; over 44,000 cases have been recorded across the island so far this year, with the highest concentration systematically suffocating the Western, Southern, and Central provinces. Hospitals and healthcare providers are under extreme pressure, but the cold metrics of morbidity do not capture the true implications and dismay of this current wave. What has profoundly shaken the public consciousness and even sent a shudder through the medical community is a grim shift in the implications for the populace.
Dengue has always been quite a threat, looming over our Motherland from time to time. Yet for all that, historically, child deaths due to the virus were relatively rare in Sri Lanka, thanks to scrupulously adhering to robust clinical guidelines, as well as exceptional paediatric monitoring and management. This year, that safety net seems to be straining quite a bit at the edges and among the reported fatalities are a tragic number of children. The virus is moving faster, hitting harder, and exposing a terrifying reality, even stressing that our existing defence mechanisms are perhaps no longer totally sufficient to deal with the problem.
In response, public health authorities have deployed their traditional arsenal. Teams are busy with intensive surveillance, conducting house-to-house inspections, enforcing strict penalties for standing and stagnant water, and sending fogging machinery through the streets to blanket neighbourhoods in chemical mists. Yet, as case counts climb by nearly 50% week over week, an uncomfortable question must be asked: Are these traditional measures sufficient, or are they bordering on an exercise in futility?
The Illusion of the Fog: Why Our Current Strategy May Be Failing?
To understand why Sri Lanka might be in a tight corner, one must look closely at the enemy. Dengue is transmitted primarily by the Aedes aegypti mosquito, a highly adapted, urbanised insect. While Aedes aegypti is widely considered the primary culprit, Aedes albopictus (commonly known as the Asian tiger mosquito) plays a massive, highly dangerous role in Sri Lanka’s dengue transmission as well. In fact, the interplay between these two species is one of the biggest reasons why controlling dengue on the island is so incredibly difficult. These two vectors behave differently, breed in different places, and require distinct strategies to combat their well-recognised roles in the propagation of the disease that is dengue. Understanding how these two mosquito species split the territory could explain why a single controlling method might not always work across the board.
Aedes aegypti mosquitoes are strictly urban and indoor creatures. They live alongside humans inside houses, apartments, and in heavily built-up commercial areas. They rest on dark clothes in closets, under furniture, and behind curtains. They breed in artificial containers, clear, stagnant water in flower vases, plastic cups, concrete sumps, and overhead tanks. They prefer human blood almost exclusively and bite multiple people to get one full meal, thereby spreading the dengue virus rapidly within even a single household.
In contrast, Aedes albopictus is semi-urban and rural, thrives in vegetations, gardens, rubber plantations, and peri-urban areas where green spaces meet houses. The creature rests in shaded bushes, high grass, and low canopy foliage, as well as holes in trees, leaf axils, coconut shells, discarded tyres and trash. The biting behaviour of these mosquitoes is opportunistic. They bite humans but also feed on birds and domestic mammals, indicating that they can survive easily even when human density is low.
The traditional responses we rely on, most notably thermal fogging, are largely cosmetic public relations exercises rather than a totally effective vector control mechanism. Such fogging misses indoor resting sites, drives resistance, and stagnant water elimination fails against cryptic, microscopic breeding sites.
Fogging utilises “adulticides“, chemical sprays meant to kill flying mosquitoes. However, Aedes aegypti is a domestic creature; it rests indoors, hidden in the dark recesses of closets, under beds, and behind curtains. A fogging process achieves very little penetration into these indoor sanctuaries. Furthermore, over-reliance on these pyrethroid-based chemical sprays has accelerated insecticide resistance, effectively rendering the chemicals useless over time.
Similarly, while the National Dengue Control Unit (NDCU), to their eternal credit, aggressively pursues the elimination of visible standing water, the sheer adaptability of the mosquito outpaces manual human labour in trying to eliminate the breeding places of the vectors. Aedes eggs can remain dormant in dry containers for months, hatching the moment a drop of water touches them. In dense, urbanised areas like Colombo and Gampaha, microscopic breeding sites, from the rim of a discarded plastic bottle cap to the base of an indoor potted plant, are impossible to completely police.
If we continue to rely solely on manual cleaning and chemical fogging, we are fighting a twenty-first-century climate-driven crisis with mid-twentieth-century tools. We must look beyond our borders to see how global science is shifting the paradigm of mosquito control.
The Biological Frontier: Insects fighting Mosquitoes
When searching for international alternatives, many look towards the United States, where vector control districts manage complex mosquito populations across diverse ecosystems. A common point of curiosity is the historical use of “mosquito-eating insects.”
In the US, biological control has long featured predatory species. While some point to insects like dragonfly nymphs or giant non-biting mosquito larvae (Toxorhynchites, which actively prey on other mosquito larvae), the most widely used traditional biological agent in American municipal water systems is actually the Gambusia affinis, commonly known as the “mosquitofish.” A single one of these surface-feeding fish can devour hundreds of mosquito larvae a day.
However, American vector management has largely evolved past simply dumping predatory fish into ponds. The true modern frontier in global mosquito control relies on advanced biological and genetic interventions that turn the mosquitoes against themselves.
1. The Wolbachia Revolution
Perhaps the most successful international intervention against dengue is the introduction of Wolbachia-infected mosquitoes. Wolbachia is a naturally occurring bacterium found in up to sixty per cent of all insect species, but crucially, not naturally present in Aedes aegypti.
When scientists introduce Wolbachia into Aedes mosquitoes in a laboratory and release them into the wild, two extraordinary things happen: –
· Viral Suppression: The bacterium competes with viruses like dengue, Zika, and chikungunya inside the mosquito’s body, making it incredibly difficult for the virus to replicate. If the virus cannot replicate, the mosquito cannot transmit it to a human.
· Population Replacement:
Through a mechanism called cytoplasmic incompatibility, when a Wolbachia-carrying male mates with a wild female that does not carry the bacteria, her eggs do not hatch. If a Wolbachia female mates with a wild male, her offspring will carry the bacteria. Over time, the local mosquito population is entirely replaced by harmless, non-transmission-capable mosquitoes.
In comprehensive global trials, such as those conducted by the World Mosquito Programme in Yogyakarta, Indonesia, the introduction of Wolbachia mosquitoes led to a staggering 77% reduction in dengue incidence and an 86% reduction in dengue-related hospitalisations.
2. Sterile Insect Technique (SIT) and Genetic Modifications
Other countries, including parts of the US (such as the Florida Keys) and Brazil, have turned to genetic engineering. Using the Sterile Insect Technique (SIT) or advanced genetic variants (like those developed by Oxitec), millions of bio-engineered male mosquitoes are released into the wild. Because male mosquitoes do not bite humans, and they feed exclusively on nectar, thereby posing zero risk to the public. These males mate with wild females, but pass on a self-limiting gene that causes the female offspring to die in the larval stage before they can ever mature, bite, or transmit disease. This results in a drastic collapse of the localised vector population without the use of even a single drop of toxic chemical pesticide.
Moving beyond the Status Quo: A Blueprint for Sri Lanka
The current dilemma in Sri Lanka is a classical gridlock: we are deploying immense physical effort and economic capital into vector control measures that yield diminishing returns, while our clinical wards fill with critically ill patients. If we are to break this cycle, our public health policy must undergo a rapid structural evolution
We cannot instantly replicate the multimillion-dollar genetic laboratories of the West, but we can modernise our strategy immediately by adopting a highly targeted, multi-tiered approach.
Comprehensive Vector Management Strategy
The following are some thoughts that need to be carefully evaluated in a venture towards getting things under control.
· Shift from Adulticides to Target Microbial Larvicides Immediate Phase
Cease the reliance on sweeping chemical thermal fogging. Instead, deploy specialised microbial larvicides such as Bacillus thuringiensis israelensis (Bti). Bti is a naturally occurring soil bacterium that, when ingested by mosquito larvae, destroys their digestive tracts. It is completely non-toxic to humans, pets, and other aquatic life, and can be distributed via localised backpack sprayers or drones into inaccessible urban sumps.
· Scale Up Localised Wolbachia Trials Intermediate Phase
Sri Lanka has previously initiated small-scale, localised pilot releases of Wolbachia mosquitoes in select urban pockets. Given the severity of the 2026 outbreak, these programmes must be aggressively scaled up into an industrial-level national initiative. Public-private partnerships must be leveraged to establish sustainable, high-capacity mosquito-rearing facilities locally.
· Implement Digital Ovitrap Surveillance Continuous Integration
Replace manual, retroactive searching with predictive digital mapping. Deploy networks of smart “ovitraps” (oviposition traps) across high-burden provinces. These traps monitor egg-laying rates in real-time, allowing automated data systems to predict a spike in the adult mosquito population weeks before an actual clinical outbreak occurs, enabling preventative targeting.
The Cost of Inaction
Maintaining our current trajectory is not a neutral choice; it is an endorsement of escalating mortality. The 2026 outbreak has proven that the ecological dynamics of dengue have changed, fuelled by changing weather patterns and urban density. Our public health response must change with it.
The heart-breaking loss of young lives in this current surge must serve as a stark wake-up call. We must look at the international landscape, embrace the biological innovations that have saved lives across the globe, and transition from a policy of panic-driven reaction to one of scientific eradication. It is no longer just a matter of cleaning our drains; it is a matter of upgrading our science.
Why Aedes albopictus Makes the Sri Lankan Crisis Harder
In Sri Lanka, the geographic landscape transitions quickly from dense concrete cities to lush, tropical vegetation. This creates the perfect environment for both species to thrive simultaneously.
· The Surveillance Blindspot: When health authorities focus heavily on checking indoor water storage and concrete drains in cities, they can completely miss the massive Aedes albopictus populations breeding in the surrounding vegetation, suburban gardens, and rural homesteads of the Southern and Central provinces.
· The Failure of Indoor Fogging:
While indoor residual spraying or targeted indoor fogging might hit Aedes aegypti, it has virtually no effect on Aedes albopictus, which spends its life cycle outdoors in the bushes.
· Climate Resilience:
Aedes albopictus eggs are remarkably tolerant of colder temperatures and varied environments. This allows the vector to push higher into the mountainous terrains of the Central Province, bringing dengue to areas that historically saw very few cases.
To truly bring down the case numbers in a severely enhanced outbreak, public health interventions must be dual-targeted: addressing the indoor, urban threat of Aedes aegypti while simultaneously tackling the outdoor, ecological stronghold of Aedes albopictus. We cannot sit back on our laurels of the past. We need to move forward resolutely.
Features
ANURADHAPURA ANTHEM c.1893
R. W. Ievers, who wrote this poem, was the Government Agent of the North Central Province during 1884, 1886, and 1890. He is the author of the Manual of the North Central Province (1899) and a half dozen published reports on the life and practices in the Province. Before his death, he shared it with his good friend H.C.P. Bell, the Archaeological Commissioner of Ceylon at the time. In 1917, Bell had it published in the Times of Ceylon – Christmas Number. Since then, it remained unknown for 109 years, until Ievers’s great-grandson, Turtle Bunbury, historian and author of Living in Sri Lanka (2006) with James Fennell, tipped me off about its source – H.C.P. Bell: Archaeologist of Ceylon and the Maldives (1993), written by Bell’s granddaughters Bethia N. Bell and Heather M. Bell.
THE ANTHEM
Anuradhapura! City grand and vast,
Lanka’s famous Capital, in ages of the past:
In the Mahawansa the story has been told
Of thy palaces, and temples, and pinnacles of gold.
Hail! then hail! to the worth of a bygone day,
Hail! all hail! to the relics of kingly sway
Hail to thee, Fair City, glorious in decay,
Hail! thrice hail! Forever and for aye!
Si monumentum quaeris
– cast your gaze around
Ruined fanes and dagobas everywhere abound
Alas! for glory faded, for erstwhile beauty sped
For hierarchs and heroes, long numbered with the dead
Hail! then hail!…
Great Ruwanaveli Seya, once fairest of the fair,
The splendour of thy palmy days has melted into air;
And like Imperial Caesar now ‘dead and turned into clay’,
Thy sacred bricks ‘may stop a hole to keep the wind away.’
Note by Tillakaratne:
Since 1873, Bhikku Naranvita Sumanasara has been doing conservation work on this stupa. In 1876, Governor William Gregory, after visiting the work site, wrote that its conservation was not just a religious work but a great National Monument.
See ‘Bayagiri’ massive – ‘Fearless Mount’ forsooth – Centre once of schism rank, from ‘Great Vihara’ truth.
Patched up by prison labour, anew it flaunts on high
A ‘hideous excrescence’ athwart a tranquil sky.
Note by H. C. P. Bell
: T. N. Christie, Planting Member at the time protested in the Legislative Council against the abortive “restoration” by prison labour of the Abhayagiri Dagaba, dubbing its truncated pinnacle, half restored, a “hideous excrescence”.
Jetawanarama, Great Sena’s priestly boon
Comely shape and giddy height will crumble all too soon;
Where forest trees and chequered shade a peaceful picture lend,
From cruel axe and ruthless spade, may gracious Heaven defend.
Note by H. C. P. Bell:
Two decades after these poems were written, the surrounding area of the Jetawanarama was still covered in forest, and the Atamasthana Committee conditionally allowed a monk to clear a limited number of trees. But not a tree remained unfelled, contrary to what the monk was authorized to do.
Thuparama graceful, in outline clear and bold,
Begirt with column chaste and slim, a gem in the ring of gold
To thee pertains high honour a pious people gave – The tomb of Sanghamitta, and Prince Mahinda’s grave.
Note by
H. C. P. Bell: The ruins are pointed out, wrongly, as the tradional tombs of Arahat Mahinda and Sanghamitta Theranee.
With bricks and mortar bolstered up, behold the Sacred Bo;
To some – misguided mortals – ‘tis but a ‘bo-gas’ show.
Where humble Mirisveti a monarch’s fad recalls,
Lo! Royal Siam’s silver now builds its futile walls.
Note by H. C. P. Bell:
According to Mahawansa, Mirisavetiya was so named after King Dutugemunu’s compunction at forgetting chillies (miris) in his alms giving to monks on one occasion. The restoration work on the Mirisavetiya began under the Ceylon Government, with funds provided by the King of Siam. When the money flow began to cease, work also ceased, and bats began to frequent the holed structure.
- Ruwanveli Seya in the background. Murage in the front c. 1900 From Sacred City of Anuradhapura (1908)
- Bhayagriya (Abhayagiriya) c. 1900 From: Sacred City of Anuradhapura (1908)
- Jetawanaramaya c. 1900. From Sacred City of Anuradhapura (1908)
What need to tell of sculptures, of ‘pokunas’ galore,
Of balustrades and Yogi stones and half a hundred more,
Of Brazen Palace spacious, with gilt-roofed storeys dight –
A modern race more ‘brazen’ would desecrate each site.
For midst these sacred ruins of shrines and cloistered hall,
A reckless generation disports with little balls,
Whilst ‘Parliamentary language’ and imprecations deep
Disturb the peaceful solitude where saintly Rahats sleep.
Note by H. C. P. Bell:
After European residents, old city Anuradhapura in the late 19th century, the area still being cleared between Ruwanveli Seya and Thuparama, was used a ‘golf links’. Ievers did not like the area used as a playground:
Iconoclasts and vandals have had their little day;
No more shall ancient pillars to culverts find their way.
No more a watchful Government such sacrilege condones –
One may not meddle with the gods, nor tamper with the stones.
Anuradhapura! Thy glory shall revive;
Yhu [sic] sons shall swarm within thee like bees about a hive.
The effort of the present for past neglect atones;
New breath of life resuscitates this vale of driest bones.
Composed by R. W. Ievers
(1850-1905)
Introduced by Lokubanda Tillakaratne
Features
Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation: Restoring Mobility, Dignity and Hope Across Sri Lanka
For thousands of Sri Lankans living with limb loss and physical disabilities, access to quality rehabilitation services remains a significant challenge. Yet, for more than three decades, our organisation has quietly transformed lives through innovation, compassion and community-based care. The Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation Guarantee Limited (MRFGL), supported by the Meththa Foundation-UK and in partnership with the Manitha Neyam Trust, the LEBARA Foundation and the Oblates of Mary Immaculate in Jaffna, emerged as one of Sri Lanka’s most effective voluntary rehabilitation service providers, restoring mobility, independence and dignity to some of the country’s most vulnerable citizens.
The Foundation’s roots stretch back to 1994, when a group of expatriate Sri Lankan professionals in the United Kingdom recognised the severe shortage of rehabilitation services available to disabled persons in Sri Lanka. Drawing upon their expertise in rehabilitation medicine and allied healthcare professions, they established the Meththa Foundation-UK with a simple but powerful vision: to provide affordable, high-quality prosthetic and rehabilitation services to those who needed them most.
What began as an effort to recycle and repurpose high-quality prosthetic components donated by the UK’s National Health Service has evolved into a comprehensive rehabilitation network serving communities across the island.
Clinical services commenced in Sri Lanka in 1995 through a mobile outreach programme that initially supported injured soldiers and later expanded to civilians affected by conflict and disability. The majority of them were victims of land mines. In 2010, the Sri Lankan arm of the organisation was formally registered as the Meththa Rehabilitation Foundation Guarantee Limited, strengthening its ability to deliver sustainable services nationwide.
Today, the Foundation operates four modern rehabilitation centres located in Mahawa, Mankulam, Balapitiya and Kilinochchi. These centres provide prosthetic and orthotic services, posture and mobility support, limb repairs, and rehabilitation assistance to patients from diverse social and economic backgrounds.
Recognising that many disabled individuals live in remote areas with limited access to healthcare, Meththa Foundation also established a mobile outreach service in 2011. Through a successful “Hub and Spoke” model, rehabilitation teams travel regularly to underserved communities, ensuring that patients are not denied care simply because of distance or financial hardship.
The scale of the Foundation’s work is impressive. During 2025 alone, the organisation recorded approximately 2,000 patient contacts, including the provision of 350 new artificial limbs, 850 limb repairs and around 800 other rehabilitation devices. For many beneficiaries, these interventions represent far more than medical treatment; they offer a pathway back to employment, education and social participation.
Innovation has become a hallmark of the Foundation’s approach. Through an active research and development programme, MRFGL has developed affordable prosthetic technologies specifically suited to Sri Lankan conditions. Among its achievements is the development of a modular below-knee artificial limb system manufactured largely from locally sourced materials. The Foundation has also designed low-cost prosthetic knee components that significantly reduce the financial burden on patients while maintaining quality and functionality. These developments are funded by generous International Grants facilitated by affluent members of the Meththa Foundation-UK. Service users are encouraged to donate whatever they can but for those who cannot, which is a majority the services are entirely free.
These innovations not only make rehabilitation more affordable but also strengthen local manufacturing capabilities and reduce dependence on imported components.
Equally important is the Foundation’s commitment for building local expertise. Recognising the shortage of trained rehabilitation professionals in Sri Lanka, Meththa Foundation
established an apprentice-based vocational training programme that recruits and trains young people as prosthetists, orthotists and rehabilitation technicians. Several locally trained staff members are now employed across the Foundation’s centres, helping to create a sustainable workforce for the future.
The organisation’s work has attracted growing recognition within the healthcare sector. Discussions have already taken place with health authorities regarding the potential use of Meththa-designed prosthetic components within Government hospitals. Such collaboration could significantly expand access to affordable rehabilitation services throughout the country.
Beyond its clinical achievements, the Foundation’s impact is measured in restored confidence and renewed independence. Surveys conducted among beneficiaries indicate that many educated amputees successfully return to productive lives after receiving rehabilitation support. However, the findings also highlight an ongoing challenge among poorer and less educated amputees, many of whom struggle to access follow-up care due to transportation difficulties and financial constraints.
To address this issue, the organisation hopes to -expand its mobile services and community outreach programmes. Additional funding would allow rehabilitation teams to reach isolated communities more frequently, ensuring that vulnerable patients continue to receive the support they need.
Operating on an annual expenditure of approximately Rs. 30 million in Sri Lanka, supplemented by overseas fundraising and donations, the Foundation remains heavily reliant on the partnership of charitable trusts such as the Manitha Neyam Trust and LEBARA Foundation and generosity of individual well-wishers. Every contribution directly supports the provision of artificial limbs, mobility devices, training programmes and outreach services for those who might otherwise be left behind.
As Sri Lanka continues to strengthen its healthcare and social welfare systems, organisations such as the Meththa Foundation demonstrate how innovation, volunteerism and dedication can create lasting social
By helping individuals regain mobility and independence, the Foundation is not merely providing artificial limbs—it is rebuilding lives and restoring hope.
For many “beneficiaries, every step they take is a testament to the life-changing work of the Meththa foundation
www.meththafoundation-sl-uk.org
Chairman’s WhatsApp contact number +94 77 788 6119
Prof S P Lamabadusurira, Chairman and Dr B Panagamuwa, ✍️
First Trustee
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