Features
The Tamil presence in Sinhala cinema
(Excerpted from Shared Encounters in Myanmar, Sri Lanka and Thailand – International Centre for Ethnic Studies 2024)
by Hasini Haputhanthri
An oft-quoted saying of S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike, former premier of Ceylon who came to power in 1956 upon a wave of nationalism goes: “I have never found anything to excite the people in quite the way this language issue does”. The implication was that language was a deeply divisive issue in Ceylon. However, when it came to cinema, at least in the early years, “this language issue” was not a barrier for collaboration.
In the 1930s and the early 40s, before the advent of Sinhala talkies, Tamil films were well liked and received by Sinhala audiences. For example, the South Indian blockbuster, Chintamani (1937) was an instant hit in Ceylon. Colombo-based film critic, Lucian Rajakarunanayake reminisces in the Daily News (1 June 2010):
“The Bioscope, as films were known at the time, was screened in Plaza Cinema Wellawatta. I recall waiting in the long queue with my aunts to whom an evening of watching the bioscope was a very special occasion…Chintamani ran nearly for six months or more in Colombo and it was house full all the while. Businessmen were cashing in on the runaway popularity with the Chintamani name being used for match-boxes, candles and joss-sticks. Many children were given the name too, by parents who must have seen the film several times and were singing and humming the songs…”
Neighbors to Collaborators
The early Sinhala talkies carried a heavy South Indian influence and went on to perform well at the box office. Many directors and producers of Sinhala films were Tamil or South Indian. S.M. Nayagam, the producer of Kadawunu Poronduwa was a Tamil hailing from Madras Presidency (now Madurai). Nayagam was not a stranger to Ceylon. In fact, he was already invested in the island through his business ventures. (Apart from films, Nayagam also made bars of soap!)
Since early production work happened in South Indian studios, Nayagam ferried the whole cast of Kadawunu Poronduwa, Rukmani Devi, the brothers B.A.W. Jayamanne and Eddie Jayamanne, and the Minerva Theatre Group across the strait over to India. The film was directed by Jyotish Singh, a Bengali already working in the Tamil film industry. The music was directed by Narayana Aiyar, a musician of repute from Tamil Nadu.
Gujarati director V.N. Javeri, A.B. Raj who directed six Sinhala films, T.R. Sundaram, L.S. Ramachandran, A.S. Nagarajan of Mathalan fame were all directors of Indian origin who worked on Sinhala talkies. Mathalan ran for 90 days when it was first released in 1955 and for 118 days when it was re-screened in 1973, a record in local cinema. Similar to many other films of the era it was a copy of a Tamil film based on a folktale from Tanjore. It is claimed that a similar folk tale exists in Ceylon as well, pointing to the inextricable cultural common ground between South India and Ceylon. Audiences focused on these cultural ‘connectors’, more than they did on the ‘dividers’, as they embraced the song, dance and high drama. Perhaps it can also be inferred that cinema provided an escape from a divided reality.
Cinema Made by Everyone for Everyone
The contributions of the Muslim community to film, especially film music, is worthy of a movie of its own. Abdul Aziz of Kollupitiya, Mohamad Ghouse of Grandpass, Ismail Rauther of Moor Street, and Lakshmi Bhai, an idol of Nurti theater in the 30s and 40s, all contributed their musical talents. After the decline of Nurti theater, prominent artistes and music directors such as Ghouse Master, Peer Mohamed, Mohideen Baig and Abdul Haq defined and pioneered Sri Lankan music and cinema together with their Sinhala protégées and contemporaries including Amaradeva from the early 1930s to mid-60s.
Muslim musicians and singers, notably Mohamad Sali, Ibrahim Sali, A.J. Karim, M.A. Latif and K.M.A. Zawahir, also contributed significantly to radio broadcasting, serving in the orchestras of the Sri Lanka Broadcasting Corporation (SLBC). Very few are aware of Gnai Seenar Bangsajayah, popularly known as G.S.B. Rani, who is actually of Malay origins hailing from Badulla and gifted the island with unforgettable love songs.
To date, devotional songs such as ‘Buddham Saranam Gachchami’ sung by Mohideen Baig in qawwali style shape the Buddhist imagination and sentiment. Lakshmi Bhai’s ‘Pita Deepa Desha Jayagaththa, Aadi Sinhalun’ evokes a sense of patriotism many can relate to, despite the lyrics specifying the Sinhalese as those who won the world in the past.
The first director of Ceylon Tamil origin was T. Somasekaran whose box office hit Sujatha (1953) brought in a new age in film marketing. Another famous father-and-son duo from Jaffna were W.M.S. Tampoe and Robin Tampoe who directed many famous Sinhala films between them in the 1950s and 1960s. Premnath Moraes, S. Sivanandan and K. Gunaratnam are other pioneering Sri Lankan Tamil contributors to the Sinhala film industry.
One wonders why so many Tamil-speaking producers, directors and composers made films in Sinhala, and not in Tamil. The explanation is simple – the economics of the industry. South India produced a steady line of films in Tamil for the audiences in Ceylon. For Sri Lankan producers and filmmakers at the time, even when they themselves were Tamil-speaking, “this language issue” did not matter. Money was to be made with Sinhala audiences.
Even as individuals, it was easier to transcend ethnic and religious affiliations when it came to cinema. Mohideen Beig, a devout Muslim, was capable of surrendering to Buddha in his songs with utter sincerity. ‘Buddham Saranam Gachchami’, one of his popular devotional songs, is played at Vesak festivals every year: “to Buddha, my only refuge, I surrender”.
As individuals, as communities and as industries, we embraced diversity intuitively and subconsciously. In the 1950s there was a slow reversal of this configuration, where identity politics insidiously began to take over the island, and even seeping into the film industry. As in all other aspects, this spelt doom for the Sri Lankan film. The nationalization of cinema through the establishment of the National Film Corporation in the 1970s, brought in strict government control to an industry that flourished with freedom and creativity. The space for different communities to contribute to the industry shrank steadily.
The Legacy of Love and Hate
The film Asokamala was an early victim of this trend. One could argue that the barrage of shrill film reviews published in the dailies criticizing the film provide early specimens of what is known today as hate speech.
Asokamala (1947) is the Romeo Juliet of the island’s historic love stories. In its essence, the film is an allegory of the island. Produced by a Tamil (Gardiner), directed by a Sinhalese (Shantikumar Seneviratne), the film’s musical score was produced by a Muslim, Mohommed Ghouse, affectionately called Ghouse Master. The film introduced both Mohideen Beig (Muslim) and Amaradeva (Sinhalese) as playback singers. Indian songstress Bhagyarathi stepped in for G.S.B. Rani (Malay), who could not make it to the recordings at Central Studios, Coimbatore India. The film drew the best of Sri Lankan talent, from all its communities and its neighbors.
The theme of the film itself hinted at reconciliation between different communities. Prince Saliya, the son of King Dutugemunu, a celebrated heroic figure from the second century BCE, falls in love with a damsel from a marginal caste. He chooses love over power, and is willing to reconcile with the Tamil chieftains whom his father defeated in a great war, a central albeit controversial event in the island’s history. Released a year before the island gained independence from colonial rulers, the film was almost a prophetic missive highlighting the challenges and opportunities ahead. It went on to earn five times its financial investment and was replete with musical hits known across generations.
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- 1962. Sound Recording by Ceylonese crew in South India
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- Film pioneer Sir Chittampalam A. Gardiner
However, rising nationalist elements found the film unacceptable. Despite its many plus points, the film was severely criticized in newspapers such as Dinamina, Silumina, Sinhala Baudhdhya, Sinhala Balaya and Sarasavi Sandaresa to name a few.
‘Asokamala is a corruption of history, as it goes against its historical time period and its motherland. It is a story set in the ancient Buddhist capital of Anuradhapura, but nowhere in the film can you see Buddhist stupas, or Buddhist monks. In this film, Dutugemunu is a weak old man,’ a Silumina newspaper editorial (27 April, 1947) lashed out.
‘What we hear about the film currently being shown at the theaters in Colombo is that it hurls abuse and insults at the entire Sinhala race. No Sinhala person would remain silent when the greatest warrior and supreme Sinhala Buddhist ruler is portrayed as a weakling and coward in this film,’
clamored Sarasavi Sandaresa.
In the same editorial, the newspaper urged all Sinhalese Buddhists to boycott the film. In fact, it is amidst this outcry against Asokamala that the idea of establishing a national regulatory body for films was mooted. A love story became a locus of hatred.
This sinister trend for purity and Buddhist supremacy led to many catastrophes over the decades. Communities who once lived in close proximity, who shared neighborhoods and homes and memories became estranged, as seen in the story of Mr Dharmalingam. Cinemas like Rio, owned by minority communities were burnt down in riots.
In reflection, what is most surprising is how powerful stories – positive stories – are repressed through such trends. Today, we remain largely unaware that the first Sinhala film was produced by a Tamil. And hundreds of Sinhala songs were composed by Muslim musicians and sung by Muslims and Malays. We hail Rukamani Devi as the Queen of the Silver Screen, but forget that her real name was Daisy Rasammah Daniel and that she performed in all three languages.
These stories are recorded in black and white, in sound and visual and yet remain unacknowledged, forgotten and dismissed. Nationalism binds people through one story but also blinds people to many other narratives. The early days of Sri Lankan cinema present a host of stories that illustrate confluence. The sheer number of Tamil, Muslim, Bohra, Burgher, Malay, Colombo Chetty communities working together with Sinhalese for the cinematic industry is not just ‘a possibility’ but a reality that already existed. One only needs to read the credits of an old movie, and ask who is who.
These stories are parables on how harmony makes small things grow; and how the lack of it makes great things decay. Cinema created a space for people to not just coexist but collaborate. A sanctuary where people could transcend parochial identities, unleash their creative potential and find their own purpose and place in history. What made cinema a truly modern form of art, is not the technology, but that it brought together this multitude of people, talents, arts, sciences, commerce, and vision in its wake.
Likewise, the opportunity of becoming a modern democratic state lies in proactively focusing and celebrating this diversity and opting for the path of love, collaboration, appreciation and deep understanding as opposed to hate. Coexistence is not a passive state but an active, changing dynamic that requires constant effort.
It is said in the movies that love and hate are two sides of the same coin. Is this really true? Or are they distinctive paths we must choose from, individually and collectively, as we walk into our futures?
by Jehan Perera
The Batalanda Commission report which goes into details of what happened during the JVP insurrection of 1987-89 has become the centre of public attention. The controversy has long been a point of contention and a reminder of the country’s troubled past and entrenched divisions that still exist. The events that occurred at Batalanda during the violent suppression of the JVP-led insurgency, remain a raw wound, as seen in the sudden resurfacing of the issue. The scars of violence and war still run deep. At a time when the country is grappling with pressing challenges ranging from economic recovery to social stability, there is a need to keep in focus the broader goal of unity for long-term peace and prosperity. But the ghosts of the past need also to be put to rest without continuing to haunt the present and future.
Grisly accounts of what transpired at Batalanda now fill the social media even in the Tamil media, though Tamils were not specifically targeted at that time. There was then a ceasefire between the government and LTTE. The Indo-Lanka Accord had just been signed and the LTTE were fighting the Indian peacekeeping army. The videos that are now circulating on social media would show the Tamil people that they were not the only ones at the receiving end of counter-terrorist measures. The Sinhalese were in danger then, as it was a rebellion of Sinhalese against the state. Sinhalese youth had to be especially careful.
It appears that former president Ranil Wickremesinghe was caught unprepared by the questions from a team from Al Jazeera television. The answers he gave, in which he downplayed the significance of the Batalanda Commission report have been viewed differently, depending on the perspective of the observer. He has also made a statement in which he has rejected the report. The report, which demands introspection, referred to events that had taken place 37 years earlier. But the ghosts of the past have returned. After the issue has come to the fore, there are many relatives and acquaintances of the victims from different backgrounds who are demanding justice and offering to come forward to give evidence of what they had witnessed. They need closure after so many years.
MORE POLARISATION
The public reaction to the airing of the Al Jazeera television programme is a reminder that atrocities that have taken place cannot be easily buried. The government has tabled the Batalanda Commission report in parliament and hold a two-day debate on it. The two days were to be consecutive but now the government has decided to space them out over two months. There is reason to be concerned about what transpires in the debate. The atrocities that took place during the JVP insurrection involved multiple parties. Batalanda was not the only interrogation site or the only torture chamber. There were many others. Former president Ranil Wickremesinghe was not the only prominent protagonist in the events that transpired at that time.
The atrocities of the late 1980s were not confined to one location, nor were they the responsibility of a single individual or group. The JVP engaged in many atrocities and human rights violations. In addition to members of the former government and military who engaged in counter-terrorism operations there were also other groups that engaged both in self-defence and mayhem. These included members of left political parties who were targeted by the JVP and who formed their own para-military groups. Some of the leaders went on to become ministers in succeeding governments and even represented Sri Lanka at international human rights forums. Even members of the present government will not be able to escape the fallout of the debate over the Batalanda Commission report.
If the debate becomes a battleground for assigning blame rather than seeking solutions, it could have far-reaching consequences for Sri Lanka’s social and political stability. Economic recovery, governance reform, and development require stability and cooperation. The present storm caused by the Batalanda Commission report, and the prospects for increased polarisation and hatred do not bode well for the country. Rather than engaging in potentially divisive debates that could lead to further entrenchment of opposing narratives, Sri Lanka would be better served by a structured and impartial approach to truth-seeking and reconciliation.
NATIONAL HEALING
Earlier this month at the UN Human Rights Council in Geneva, the government rejected the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights assertion that the external evidence gathering unit would continue to collect evidence on human rights violations in Sri Lanka. This evidence gathering unit has a mandate to collect information on a wide range of human rights violations including intimidation and killings of journalists but with a focus on the human rights violations and war crimes during the course of the LTTE war and especially at its end. The government’s position has been that it is determined to deal with human rights challenges including reconciliation through domestic processes.
Addressing the High-Level Segment of the 58th Regular Session of the United Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC) in Geneva in February this year, Foreign Minister Vijitha Herath said: “The contours of a truth and reconciliation framework, will be further discussed with the broadest possible cross section of stakeholders, before operationalisation to ensure a process that has the trust of all Sri Lankans. Our aim is to make the domestic mechanisms credible and sound within the constitutional framework. This will include strengthening the work towards a truth and reconciliation commission empowered to investigate acts of violence caused by racism and religious extremism that give rise to tensions within Sri Lankan society.”
The concept of a truth and reconciliation commission was first broached in 2015 by then prime minister Ranil Wickremesinghe’s government. In 2019 after winning the presidential elections, former president Gotabaya Rajapaksa too saw merit in the idea, but neither of these two leaders had the commitment to ensure that the process was completed. Promoting reconciliation in Sri Lanka among divergent political actors with violent political pasts requires a multi-faceted approach that blends political, social, and psychological strategies.
Given the country’s complex history of armed conflict, ethnic tensions, and political polarisation, the process must be carefully designed to build trust, address grievances, and create a shared vision for the future. A truth and reconciliation process as outlined in Geneva by the government, which has teeth in it for both punishment and amnesty, can give the country the time and space in which to uncover the painful truths and the path to national healing.
Our universities are characterized by hierarchies. They manifest in formal and informal ways, reinforcing power asymmetries based on class, ethnicity and gender, and placing inordinate authority in those with higher status. In medicine, a ‘hidden curriculum’ orients undergraduates to hierarchies from their early days in training, placing professors over lecturers, ‘clinical’ over ‘non-clinical’ teachers, consultants over medical officers, and so on. While hierarchies are needed at universities (and hospitals) to streamline decision-making, dysfunctional hierarchies create unhealthy learning environments and a culture of fear that discourages students from asking questions and voicing concerns. They also legitimize mistreatment, humiliation, bullying, and other abuses of power. A few months ago, when I invited a medical student to participate in a session on ragging and harassment for incoming students, she asked me (quoted with permission), “What’s the point of doing a programme like that if ragging happens in official level by teachers with everyone knowing, Madam?” Her question led me to explore the avenues available at state universities for undergraduates to counter abuses of power by teachers and university administrations.
What can undergrads do?
The University Grants Commission (UGC) and all state universities have established mechanisms for reporting complaints of ragging and sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV). The UGC’s online portal entertains complaints on “all forms of ragging; sexual harassment; sexual or gender based violence; threats and intimidation; bullying; and harassment.” Complaint procedures for ragging and SGBV are described in detail on the websites of each university, as well as the websites of some faculties. Students may also take any complaints directly to the Dean, student counsellors, academic advisors/mentors, and teachers. In addition, many faculties have portals to submit online complaints on ragging and harassment, while others rely on informal mechanisms, like complaint boxes, to protect anonymity. While these systems are used by students to some extent, rarely do they function as checks and balances against abuses of power by teachers and others at the pinnacle of the university hierarchy.
Anyone who works at a state university would know that students (and the university community more broadly) have very little confidence in existing complaint and grievance procedures. While the minority of incidents that get reported may make it to the inquiry stage, the complaints are often withdrawn under threat and intimidation from the authorities or simply brushed under the carpet. More recently, certain universities and faculties have worked towards establishing formal student grievance procedures outside the SGBV/ragging reporting systems.
Newer grievance mechanisms
Sabaragamuwa University appears to be the only university with a university-wide policy for grievance redressal. The protocol described in the standard operating procedure (SOP) requires that students submit their complaint in writing to the Dean or Deputy Senior Student Counsellor of the relevant faculty. On receiving a complaint, a Committee will be set up by the Dean/Deputy Senior Student Counsellor to conduct an inquiry. The Committee will comprise five senior staff members, including “two independent members (one representing another department, and one may represent the Gender Equity and Equality Cell of the Faculty where relevant)…” The SOP further states that “any student can oppose to have his/her mentor and/or any faculty member to be in the five-person team handling his/her issue.” However, this information is available only to the discerning student who is able to navigate the university’s complex website, hit the Centre for Quality Assurance tab, view the list of documents and click ‘best practices’.
Several faculties of medicine appear to have introduced grievance mechanisms. The Grievance Committee of the Faculty of Medicine, Colombo, considers complaints regarding “a decision or action that is perceived to adversely affect the grievant in her or his professional academic capacity.” The procedure requires that students submit the grievance in writing to the Dean. The Committee comprises “persons who are not current employees of the Faculty of Medicine” and the complainant may request the presence of a member of the Medical Students’ Welfare Society. The Faculty of Medicine, Ruhuna, implements a grievance policy that is more expansive in scope, covering concerns related to “organizational changes in the teaching and learning environment, decisions by academic staff members affecting individuals or groups of students, changes in the content or structure of academic programmes, changes in the nature and quality of teaching and assessment, supervision of students undertaking research projects, authorship and intellectual property, [and the] quality of student services and access to university facilities and resources.” While the policy notes that incidents related to harassment, discrimination and bullying, come under the jurisdiction of the university’s SGBV policy, it does not entertain complaints about examinations. The medical faculty of the University of Sri Jayewardenepura (SJP), has an online grievance system that investigates complaints related to “any physical, psychological, academic or any other problem related to the University life”. The system commits to maintaining confidentiality, pledging that “information will not be divulged to members outside the Student Grievances Committee without the student’s permission.”
Gaps in existing systems
The university-wide SGBV/ragging reporting system could be used to address harassment and intimidation of all kinds. Sadly, however, undergraduates appear to be unaware of these possibilities or reluctant to use them. It is unclear as to whether the newer grievance mechanisms at universities and faculties have managed to achieve the desired outcome. Are they used by students and do they lead to constructive changes in the learning environment or do they simply exist to tick the check box of quality assurance? None of the websites report on the number of cases investigated or the kinds of redressal measures taken. If these mechanisms are to be used by students, they must fulfill certain basic requirements.
First and foremost, all students and staff must be made aware of existing grievance mechanisms. Policies and procedures cannot simply be included under a tab buried in the faculty/university website, but need to be placed front and centre. Students should know what steps the institution will take to ensure confidentiality and how those who come forward, including witnesses, will be protected. They should be confident that swift action will be taken when any breaches of confidentiality occur. Inquiries need to be conducted without delay and complainants kept informed of the actions taken. All in all, universities and/or faculties must commit to ensuring integrity and fairness in the grievance process.
Second, the independence of inquiries must be guaranteed. Some universities/faculties have SOPs that require the inclusion of ‘independent’ members in grievance committees—members who are currently non-faculty, academics from other faculties and/or student representatives. Whether the inclusion of non-faculty members would be sufficient to safeguard independence is questionable in fields like medicine where there is a tendency to cover up professional misconduct at all levels. Permitting complainants to have a say in the makeup of the inquiry committee may help to increase confidence in the system. It may be advisable for inquiries to be handled by ombudspersons or others who do not have a stake in the outcome, rather than by academic staff who are part of the university hierarchy.
Third, grievance mechanisms must address the very real possibility of retaliation from university administrations and teachers. The TOR of the Faculty of Medicine, University of Ruhuna, states that the Committee must ensure “students do not suffer any victimization or discrimination as a result of raising complaints or grievances,” but provides no guidance on how this might be accomplished. Any grievance mechanism must address what recourse to action complainants (and witnesses) have in the event of retaliation. At present, there are no regulations in place to ensure that persons alleged of misconduct are not involved in examination procedures. Neither do universities provide any guarantee that complainants’ academic/employment prospects will not be compromised by coming forward. This is especially concerning in medicine where practical assessments of clinical skills and interview-based examinations (viva) are common, and those at higher rank are usually trainers at the postgraduate level.
Going forward
Student grievance mechanisms provide a structured process for students to voice concerns and seek redress when they feel they have been treated unfairly or unjustly by university staff or policies. The mechanisms currently in place at state universities appear to be weak and insufficient. The UGC could call for universities to participate in a consultative process aimed at developing a policy on handling student grievances in ways that promote fairness in academic matters, faculty conduct, and administration at state universities. While such a policy could foster supportive learning environments, build trust between university administrations and students, and protect students from bullying, intimidation and harassment, it must be accompanied by efforts to address and undo dysfunctional hierarchies within our universities.
(Ramya Kumar is attached to the Department of Community and Family Medicine, Faculty of Medicine, University of Jaffna.)
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
By Ramya Kumar
The months literally keep flying and, before long, we will be celebrating Oktoberfest.
In our scene, Oktoberfest is looked forward to by many and the five-star venues, especially, create the ideal kind of atmosphere for the celebration of this event, held in late September and early October.
Suzi Croner, who was in town last month (February), is already contracted to do the Oktoberfest scene at a popular five-star venue, in the city.
She says she will be performing six consecutive nights, from 23rd to 28th September, along with a band from Germany.
Suzi’s scene in Switzerland
According to Suzi, the organisers have indicated that they are looking forward to welcoming around 1,500 Oktoberfest enthusiasts on all six days the festivities are held.
“I’m really looking forward to doing the needful, especially with a German band, and I know, for sure, it’s going to be awesome.”
In fact, Suzi, of the band Friends’ fame, and now based in Switzerland, indicated that she never expected to come to her land of birth for the second time, this year.
“After my trip to Sri Lanka, in February, I thought I would check things out again next year, but I’m so happy that I don’t have to wait that long to see my fans, music lovers and friends for the second time, in 2025.”
Suzi spent 11 amazing days in Sri Lanka, in February, performing six nights at a five-star venue in Colombo, in addition to doing the ‘Country & Western Nite’ scene, at the Ramada, and an unscheduled performance, as well.
Suzi Croner: Colombo here I come…in September
Her next much-looked-forward to event is ‘Country Night,’ Down Under.
It will be her second appearance at this ‘Country Night’ dance and music lovers, in Melbourne, in particular, are waiting eagerly to give Suzi a rousing welcome.
Suzi’s bubbly personality has made her a hit wherever she performs.
In her hometown of Spreitenbach, in Switzerland, she is a big draw-card at many local events.
Suzi was the frontline vocalist for the group Friends, decades ago, and this outfit, too, had a huge following in the local scene, with a fan club that had over 1,500 members.
The band was based abroad and travelled to Sri Lanka, during the festive season, to keep their fans entertained, and it was, invariably, a full house for all their performances in the scene here.
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