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The University College, Colombo,and going off to a British University

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4 years ago

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Excerpted from the Memoirs of a Cabinet Secretary by BP Peiris

A few months after leaving Royal, I entered our University College under the Principalship of Robert Marrs who lectured to us on Philosophy. I was then a first year Arts student. Professor Pakeman spoke on the British Constitution and Warden Stone of St Thomas’ on Latin and Greek, and Roman and Greek History.

But alas! My stay at University College was to he very short indeed – just two months. I lived at the Union Hostel at ‘Alcove’ in Turret Road. The warden was Mr C. Suntharalingam. I got precious little to eat, and it was no fault or negligence on the part of the warden. It was just bad manners on the part of the hostellers. I was always a bit late, about five minutes, for meals. We sat in messes of four. When we had egg curry for lunch, there were four eggs in a dish in each mess, similarly with prawn curry, there were sufficient prawns for four.

But when I came and sat down in my usual place, the egg, which was my portion, had gone; who took it, I was never able to find out; the prawns had all gone and I had only the gravy. At tea time, the butter and milk had all been consumed and I had to be satisfied with bread, jam and a cup of plain tea. At dinner it was the same, and this occurred day after day. The three others had no manners and no consideration for the fourth fellow who was a few minutes late.

I am not here condemning all the hostelers; there were well-mannered, well-behaved students. Unfortunately, I got into a bunch of greedy, voracious and selfish students, which made me extremely unhappy. We used sometimes to get parcels of fruits etc. from our parents -oranges, mangoes, mangosteens – which were much appreciated. When I received such a parcel, I always shared it with my friends. There was one student who locked up all the fruits he received in one of his drawers and never failed to take the key with him even when he went to the toilet!

As I said, I was very unhappy. It was not my idea, even as a young fellow, of what a University should or ought to be, and I told father so and suggested that he send me to England to study law. My father did not oppose the idea, but consulted Mr (later Sir) Susantha de Fonseka who readily acquiesced, and said it was a wise move. I had now to find a place in a college in Oxford, Cambridge, London or one of the other Universities.

Father accordingly went with me to Sir James Peiris, in his time President of the Cambridge Union and, at the time I went, Vice-President of the Legislative Council. Father made the mistake of starting the conversation saying that he had come to ask for a favour. Sir James was not exactly angry but looked very surprised that my father, who knew him so well, should make such an irregular request. Sir James “did not do favours” or abuse his position.

There was a look of disapproval on his face and my father hurried to tell him what the favour was – a letter from him to his College in Cambridge to secure me a place there. “Oh Edmund,” said Sir James, “if that is all, I shall gladly write.” Unfortunately for me, his College had no vacancies, and I joined the University of London. At one time I had received the princely allowance of five cents a day. Now I was to be sent, at 19, to England at seven pounds a week. It turned my head and made me nervous. I had never handled so much money before.

And now arose a problem. Father did not like my living in ‘digs’ in London. He wanted me to stay with an English family and enjoy good English home life. As the Mudaliyar of the district, he knew the Assistant Government Agent Mr E. T. Dyson, a good and kindly Christian gentleman. Dyson liked a simple life, and was a stranger to tobacco and drink. When father asked him whether he could find me a good home in England, he had said “Yes”. The lady (my good luck) happened to be holidaying at Peradeniya at the moment, and father, mother and I were invited to lunch. We arrived at the appointed time, introduced ourselves and, over lunch, terms were agreed upon. When I reached England, I was to live in her house in Sutton in Surrey, about 15 miles out of London.

Came sailing day. All Panadura seemed to be at the jetty to say “Good Luck”. Rubber was then, (in 1928), nearly three rupees a pound and each one at the jetty gave me a gold sovereign. I got over seventy in all at a time when England had gone off gold and an Englishman had not seen a sovereign since the Great War of 1914.

Friends and relatives departed after kisses, tears and farewells, but two good friends came on board later, my teacher Victor C. Perera and my classmate, Eustace Pieris. I had the Captain’s permission to keep them as my guests to dinner on board. No extra charge was made and I therefore gave the dinner steward a sovereign as tip. He looked at me amazed, did not seem to know what he had received, put it in his palm and pressed it against the table top. He had never seen a sovereign.

On another occasion in London I purchased some gramophone records and paid a sovereign. I returned home with the records and change to find that change had been given me for ten shillings only. I went back to the shop the next day and mentioned the matter to the shopkeeper. He apologized, gave me an extra ten shillings and said he could not make out a sovereign from a half-sovereign.

The voyage itself was uneventful, except for the fact that Sir Wilfred and Lady de Soysa with all their children including the eldest, Harold (later Lord Bishop of Colombo) were on board and looked after me. I have not met two more gracious and kindly persons than Sir Wilfred and his good lady. One hour with the children and you could not but succumb to their charm. We disembarked at Marseilles, the de Soysas going on holiday to Nice in the South of France and I taking the night train to London via Calais and Dover.

On the platform at Marseilles, a Ceylonese who said he had been resident there for several years and ran a restaurant, approached us and introduced himself. When he found that Sir Wilfred and party were going to Nice and that I would be alone waiting a few hours for the boat-train to Calais, he asked me to come along with him to see the city. Sir Wilfred, who knew I had the sovereigns on me, got behind the man and signaled to me not to go. I ‘did’ the city with an officer of the American Express who brought me back to the station in good time and put me in my wagon-lit when the train arrived.

Sutton in Surrey

The night in the sleeping-car from Marseilles to Calais and the journey from Dover to London were comfortable. So was the Channel crossing. I kept gazing out of the window at the green fields, the cattle pasturing, the huge advertising boards and the neat little houses flying past as the train sped on. When the countryside gave way to back-to-back houses and overcrowding, and the number of lines began to increase at an alarming rate and the train reduced speed, I knew we were approaching the terminal station of Victoria, but it was a long time before the train finally pulled up at the station.

I was met by my uncle, D.S. Jayawickrama and Mr Amos of Richardson & Co. Mr Richardson was to be my Guardian and banker for the duration of my stay.

I spent my first night in a guest house and next day went shopping. The vastness of London frightened me. The buses, the noise, the several lines of traffic, the tall, big-built policemen in the smart helmets, the neon signs, Piccadilly Circus – this was all so different from our small Colombo and its Fort Station, our ramshackle buses and our puny policemen. I arrived in London in February 1928 when it was bitterly cold, but the cold did not affect me. After a few days in London, I moved to Sutton Lodge, the place which Mr Dyson had found for me.

I found myself in a large country house with about 10 bedrooms, standing on seven acres of land, with its own tennis court, croquet lawn and kitchen garden. The house was situated on the narrow London – Brighton Road and the entrances to the house were so narrow that a large car could not be turned in but had to be parked on the road.

The lady in charge, Miss Overton, aged about 60, was educated at Oxford at a time when Oxford did not confer degrees on women; but I believe that on the Oxford Examination, Dublin University conferred a degree. She was a heavy smoker, a charming lady. Years later, she revisited Ceylon and spent some days at Panadura as a guest of my parents.

On the day of my arrival, a Danish girl, aged 19 arrived, and, from then onwards, it was a case of one or two new arrivals each day, all females of about the same age but from different countries, until the house was full. Except for the butler, I was the only male in the house. These girls, all from well-to-do families and with about the same allowance as I received, came about February each year and returned to their homes by Christmas.

English was compulsory in all their schools. They spoke English, but not as the Englishmen spoke it. In most of their languages, as in Sinhala, Latin and German, the verb comes at the end of the sentence. For example, the German girl will ask me “Will you with me for a walk come?” All the girls came to learn idiom and, when Miss Overton was not free, I used to take the lesson which meant reading a bit of Shaw or Galsworthy and explaining it to them.

In this way, during the three years I stayed at Sutton Lodge, I was privileged to enjoy the friendship of these girls of many nationalities, some of whom still write to me at Christmas. Amongst them, as far as I can now remember, were Margaret and Trudy Brunner, sisters (Switzerland), Greth Ahner (Sweden), Sombor Marta (Hungary), Szmidel Zsuzsi and Verona Mermelstein (Czechoslovakia), Zofia Gabryszewska (Poland), List Pospichil (Austria), a beautiful girl from Vienna for whose picture a toothpaste company offered her about £ 250 for permission to use it for purposes of advertisement, Ilse Wolff (Germany), Nina Rissoni (Italy) and Idelette Allier (France), whose father was a great friend of Mahatma Gandhi, and Ramain Rolland.

It was a delightful experience. We were all part of the establishment. Miss Overton gave us a completely free hand about the house. If we felt hungry, we raided the larder and sliced a portion of ham or cheese. The Swiss girls, who consumed enormous quantities of potatoes, were always hungry. After dinner, I was made to go out into the garden and shake the apple and pear trees and bring the girls some fruit to eat. Sometimes I would take about four of the girls about a mile down the road for bacon and eggs – the equivalent of our egg hoppers. But they never let me pay the entire bill. I had to keep a careful account of the expenditure and this was equally divided on our return home and I was reimbursed.

It was so at table also. As the only male I was expected to have my cigarettes and pass my case round the table, and with thirteen girls, a packet of twenty did not last very long. But I was never out of pocket because every one of the girls kept me supplied with ample stocks to supply them at table!

There was one thing that irritated me: Miss Overton insisted that I should dress for dinner. The girls all changed into long black dresses and I could not protest as the lone male. The butler was superb.As I said before, the Swiss girls were great potato eaters. It was the custom of the house to put new arrivals on either side of Miss Overton who presided at the head of the table with me at the other end. It was also the practice, with 13 girls, Miss Overton and myself, fifteen in all, to make for a fish course, thirty pieces of fish and thirty potatoes with other vegetables. On the first day of the Swiss girls’ arrival, they were served with fish, and then with the potatoes, and one of the girls asked “Is this all for me?” “Good Lord, no,” said Miss Overton, “Take only two.” It was after that that we started our tramp for bacon and eggs.

In my third year at Sutton Lodge, I had male company. There was a French boy Pierre Dujardin, a Spaniard and two Dutch boys. There was also a Siamese Prince who said that his father, a Sultan, had many wives and 52 children.

The Swedish girl, Greta, asked me within a week of my arrival at Sutton to come with her and take her round London. It was a case of the blind leading the blind. Armed with road maps and bus routes we set out and, after seeing the sights like the Tower of London, the Mansion House, the Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace and Queen Victoria’s statue from the top of an open bus, we arrived again at Piccadilly Circus for lunch.

I was a stranger in the place and walked into the biggest and cheapest eating place there – Lyons Corner House, which had three floors, each seating about a thousand persons with an orchestra on each floor, and open day and night. It was difficult to find a table, but after much walking we found one at which a gentleman was finishing his peach melba. With his permission, we sat down opposite him, I facing him and Greta next to me.

When he had finished his meal and paid the bill, he rose and, in rising, tilted the small table with the result that plates, glasses and cutlery went crashing on the floor. The balance of the peach melba went on Greta’s expensive blue frock. Being in unfamiliar surroundings, I became very nervous as a thousand faces turned round to stare at Greta and myself. I called the waitress and asked that Greta be taken to the ladies’ room to tidy herself.

In the meantime the officer in charge of the floor dressed in a morning suit, walked up to the table and inquired of the gentleman “I presume it was an accident, Sir”. “Not at all, not at all,” he repeated. “Then will you please come with me,” said the official, and took him to the Manager. I was there seated alone, eyes still staring at me, with the fellow in the Manager’s room and Greta in the ladies’ room. It was a most unpleasant experience within seven days of my arrival in England.

Greta returned, her dress clean but spoilt by ice-cream stains. The floor manager returned with the brute and addressing me said, “Sir, this gentleman says he did this deliberately. In the circumstances, it is for the lady to take legal action if she considers it to be necessary.” I explained the position to Greta. I was only a witness, and as no damage had been done to my clothes, Greta said in her Swedish English ” I have been in your country only a few days. I don’t want to go before the ‘Judge’. I can buy another frock but this man manners I can’t teach. Ask him go.” And there it ended. It was the story of a man who was jealous that a “nigger” could take out a girl of family and status whom he was not able to take out and entertain.

Before these girls returned to their homes each Christmas, they all left their addresses with me and invited me to come and spend my long vacation with their parents. They were all people of means; but I had not the money to travel all the way across Europe from Norway down to Italy. I therefore selected three places – France, Germany and Switzerland.

Apart from the girls I have spoken of, there was for a short time at Sutton an elderly Indian lady, the wife of a Judge of the High Court of Madras. On the day of her arrival, as I was about to go on one of my evening walks to the pub, she asked me to be kind enough to bring her a pint of brandy. When the dinner gong sounded, she was absent and I was asked to go and see what the trouble was. There was no reply to my knock or her door. I opened it and saw the brandy pint empty on the carpet by the bedside and her head hanging half out of the bed. I reported that the lady wanted to be excused as she was not feeling quite well. The next day she repeated her request to me and asked me to dispose of the empty. I had to refuse.

In France, I stayed in a delightfully lovely place called Hardelot Plage. ‘Plage’ in French denotes the sea beach. It was about 12 miles from Boulogne and thousands of acres of land there had been bought by my friend Pierre’s father. Apart from his father’s house there were only about 10 other houses, a guest house, a golf course with a hotel called ‘The Golfer’s Hotel’ and of course, the promenade about a mile and a half long.

With my Kandyan walking stick and a turban of seven yards of georgette with a tail about eighteen inches long, I used to take the prom every evening in the company of Pierre’s sister and a few other girls. An Indian friend of mine had taught me how to tie a turban and I never wore a hat after that. When I finally left England, each of my seven turbans in different colours was cut in half, ironed and given to the girls to make frocks!

Pierre’s family were simple, homely and dignified. His sister insisted that I teach her how to tie the turban, which I did. Her father, an extremely wealthy man insisted that I spend my last two days in France – I was there for about three weeks – at his town house in Lille, to which place I was driven in a luxurious car.

At table, the French people had a custom entirely different from the English. I found a spotless table cloth, two glass blocks on either side of the plate and one fork and knife. The English array of silver was not there. The food was excellent and dinner consisted of several courses. After each course, the plate would be replaced, each person placing his fork and knife on the glass blocks in order that the table cloth might not be soiled.

On my second day in Lille and my last day in France, Pierre’s father, at dinner, paid me, as a student, the biggest compliment that has ever been paid to me. He asked the butler to go down to the cellar and bring the two oldest bottles of Champagne. These, covered with dust and cobwebs, were left standing for some time on the table before they were opened. A toast was drunk to my health. Next morning, with much regret, I bade farewell to the family and was driven to the station to entrain for Heidelberg in Germany.


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Features

BRICS upholds inclusive growth; re-affirms South-South cooperation

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8 hours ago

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2026/09/17

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BRICS political leaders at the 2026 New Delhi summit.(BBC)

A principal highlight of the recently concluded BRICS 2026 summit in New Delhi was the grouping’s unambiguous championing of the empowerment of ordinary people everywhere. This was yet another notable coming together of Southern governments over matters of common concern alright but it was the grouping’s people-oriented thinking that struck the impartial commentator as particularly important this time around.

The latter accent merits underscoring in view of the widespread perception that Southern oriented international organizations, such as the Non-aligned Movement (NAM), have had their day, so to speak. However the BRICS summit not only re-affirmed NAM principles but gave proof of its willingness to complement the main undertakings of NAM. Accordingly, causes such as South-South cooperation, international economic and social equity, multilateralism, international peace and the need to uphold the current UN-centred world order received resounding and fresh emphasis.

Particularly encouraging for those espousing Southern development concerns was the stressing of the historic ‘Bandung Principles’ in the New Delhi Declaration which crowned the summit deliberations. As is known, it was the ‘Bandung Spirit’ of 1955 that paved the way for the establishment of NAM and South-South cooperation in a major way. As such the ‘Spirit’ was primary in helping to reshape international development discourse and in giving it a pro-people bent. That is, development correctly conceived was birthed.

The New Delhi Declaration said in this regard: ‘We recall the 1955 Asian-African Conference in Bandung, Indonesia that proclaimed general principles, including equality, independence, non-intervention and mutual benefit. We stress that the Bandung Sprit serves as a reference in the pursuit of a fairer, more inclusive, and representative multilateral system.’

‘Geopolitics’ was not glossed over or ignored in New Delhi, but it is quite forgotten by some sections of opinion in particularly Sri Lanka that BRICS, while being an important Southern counter-balance in terms of power to the global North is also essentially about international economic growth with equity. The New Delhi summit helped to put right this conceptual imbalance in what groupings such as BRICS ought to be thinking and doing.

Even more precisely, people should be at the heart of development and in the exertions and preoccupations of international organizations claiming to represent the South. Southern governments equipped with economic and military might in particular remain important but it is people’s empowerment that ought to be the overriding consideration.

The latter concerns help stress the cruciality of democratic development since it is the latter that facilitates best the well being of people. Unfortunately, BRICS happens to be top-heavy with authoritarian governments that could deliver economic growth but not equity. It is fully representative, participatory governance that could best deliver to the people their essential needs and not totalitarian governments.

This is a complex dilemma for BRICS. It could be resolved somewhat by admitting more and more pro-people, democratic states into the BRICS fold to counter-balance the power and influence of authoritarian states. At present among the principal BRICS countries its only India that meets most of the criteria for democratic development.

Hopefully, more and more Southern democracies would see it fit to join BRICS in consideration of the latter’s potential to be a prime ‘economic powerhouse’ of the world. Equally hopefully, people’s empowerment in the true sense would come to be valued as a crucial merit for BRICS membership. It is relevant to stress that the fulfillment of the fundamental rights of a people is integral to their complete empowerment.

A grave negative fallout from the Trump administration’s current militarism is that more and more states world wide would come to value military heft over people’s empowerment. Consequently, the preference for military power could lead to countries wanting BRICS membership for the wrong reasons. That is, security through collective armed might would come to matter over all else and the world would be rendered an increasingly ‘dangerous place’.

But thinking people would expect from BRICS a more responsible role in world affairs and prefer to have from it inspirational guidance in democratic development, correctly understood.

A commitment by BRICS at the summit of considerable importance to world peace that should not be underplayed is its commitment to the UN system and the strengthening of International Law. The relevant quote from the Declaration spoke of BRICS’ ‘Commitment to strengthening multilateralism and multi-polarity and upholding International Law, including the Purposes and Principles of the Charter of the United Nations.’

Coming at a time when the UN is seen by some as a spent force, lacking effectiveness, the above endorsement of the UN Charter and International Law is of crucial significance. This amounts to solidly upholding the post World War Two order despite current largely rhetorical assertions that it is fast unraveling.

While UN reform remains a compelling necessity, the endorsement of the UN-centred order holds out the possibility of some of the BRICS heavyweights, who are currently acting in violation of International Law, eventually getting back to conduct that would be more in keeping with the requirements of International Law.

The UN could put these developments to constructive use by redoubling its efforts to work out diplomatic solutions to the current conflicts and wars that are showing no signs of being receptive to fresh peace efforts.

Two of these theatres of conflict are the Middle East and the Ukraine. While the US, Israel, Russia and Iran would need to be engaged by the UN with exceptional persuasive power to sort out the conflicts where they have come to feature directly and indirectly, the relevant BRICS members’ commitments to world peace and multilateralism could be used as instruments of moral pressure perhaps to induce them to get onto the path of peaceful conflict resolution.

The wide consensus among the BRICS powers amounts to their scoring a significant political victory over the US and its allies. Their espousal of international peace and the UN Charter exposes the US as being at cross purposes with peace-oriented and democratic sections world wide. Specifically, the moral and intellectual poverty of the Trump administration is being revealed glaringly.

This does not amount to a condemnation of the people of the US perse. It is just that some of them have voted quite unwisely. As a first step towards correcting this situation they could make good use of the upcoming mid term elections to register their strong disapproval of the Trump administration and the political extremists among the US Right. Course correction is not impossible.

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Not I — We: A new uniform will mean nothing if the person inside it is left behind

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8 hours ago

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2026/09/17

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by Mahil Dole

Senior Superintendent of Police (Retd.)

Sri Lanka Police has just marked 160 years. The parades were in order. The sentence that should have followed them has not been written with enough force. A police service that is pulled by politics, rewarded for individual glory and tried every night on social media cannot protect a country that is now a maritime hinge for international narcotics and financial crime. The political authority must decide, not in a speech, but in conduct, whether this force belongs to the law or to the loudest faction of the week.

That is not a plea. It is a warning.

The political hierarchy and the police hierarchy now agree that the service needs a new outlook, beginning with the uniform. The cut and the kit are not yet settled. That conversation is overdue. Criminals have moved into containers, encrypted apps and international logistics. An officer equipped for a quieter decade is less able to detect, and less able to come home.

Sophistication of kit is essential. Body-worn cameras, communications and protective equipment that match the threat are not luxuries. They keep a policeman alive.

If the first decision of this compact is only what the officer will wear, the wrapping will be modern and the person untouched. The priority is not a new silhouette. It is a different person inside the uniform.

The officer is a human being

He and she is a product of this complicated society. The fractures that run through the village, the school and the social-media feed run through the recruit. Communal suspicion, religious identity and ethnic memory are not checked at the armoury gate. The question treated as delicate is operational: is this officer mentally geared for ordinary crime and for communal, religious and ethnic conflict?

What is his stand if he belongs to one community and is sent into a dispute involving another? How will the parties look at him? How will the media frame the first photograph? That decides whether a crowd sees the law or “the other side.” We are all Sri Lankans. The sentence is easy on a Police Day banner. It is hard at a junction when rumour is already ahead of the patrol.

Every officer, from constable to gazetted rank, must be trained for these issues as deliberately as for a baton. Not one lecture at Katukurunda: recurring, scenario-based work on mixed neighbourhoods, mixed complainants, and keeping personal faith out of the method of work. The media will hunt the communal angle; parties to a conflict will hunt the ethnic one. The only answer that holds is an officer whose first identity on duty is Sri Lankan and whose first loyalty is the law.

That is “We.” Assuming the uniform dissolves identity is how a single incident becomes a national story.

What they have been is not what they can remain

From the 1866 ordinance this service has been the state’s civilian arm, colonial order-keeping, post-independence law and order, then a wartime partner that buried its dead beside the armed forces. Specialised units were built for terrorism, organised crime and financial intelligence. The same institution was used as a residual army, a political instrument and a promotion marketplace. Loyalty too often attached to a person, not to the law. Easter Sunday made the price visible. So did every file that moved, or stalled, according to who was in office.

A history of sacrifice does not excuse a present of capture. It makes the capture more shameful.

What they are today

On paper the force is large, some 79,000 authorised, 609 stations. On the ground it is thin. More than 4,300 officers have left since 2020. Vacancies exceed 30,000. Shifts of twelve to eighteen hours are still treated as normal. Distress is still logged as discipline rather than welfare. That is waste, not toughness.

Crime has two faces, and both strike national security. Gang violence over narcotics still produces shootings. Sri Lanka also sits on feeder routes moving Afghan and Pakistani product toward other markets. Harbour and high-sea detections in the hundreds of kilograms are no longer rare. Ice hidden in towels at Colombo Port; heroin pulled from multi-day trawlers; scam compounds and frozen assets in the billions of rupees, these are not “ordinary crime.” They buy influence and fund the next consignment.

The third battlefield is information. Reels and anonymous accounts impersonate officers, launder rumour as fact, and reward the man who seeks a following. Inside the service the culture still teaches “I”: my file, my photograph, my briefing. Rank is being treated as a prize. It is a trust.

The container that became a campaign

Late August 2026, officers opened containers at the Colombo International Container Terminal and recovered some 463 to 472 kilograms of crystal methamphetamine, concealed in towels, originating from Pakistan and valued in the billions of rupees. Suspects including foreign nationals were arrested. The United States DEA publicly associated itself with the intelligence. The criminal case sits with the Central Crime Investigation Bureau.

That is a success. It should have been protected as a success.

Instead, an internal process review, ordered by the Inspector General into how information moved between bureaux, was translated on social media into another story: that the IGP and Senior DIG Ranmal Kodituwakku were being “chambered” over the detection. An Opposition MP warned, correctly, that putting the officers who delivered the raid under a public microscope will teach the service the wrong lesson.

State the distinction without apology. A criminal file is about the network and the money. A process file is about timelines and chain of custody. A blog is neither. Collapsing a Senior DIG’s recorded statement into “the hierarchy is in the dock” is not accountability. It is a gift to those who packed the towels. After a half-tonne interdiction, a process review is normal; leaking it as a morality play is not. Complete the inquiry on the record. If negligence is found, deal with it. If not, say so. Half-spoken files let rumour colonise the institution.

Training, technology and a mind that can bear the load

The IGP and the hierarchy must stop treating training as a calendar ornament. Immediate programmes are required, not next year’s paper.

First

, the evolving issues: communal and religious tension, narrative operations, child and women protection, financial and cyber crime, harbour interdiction, the law of arrest.

Second

, the technologies: digital evidence, data protection under the Personal Data Protection Act, disciplined open-source work, body-worn cameras that protect the public and officers alike.

Third

, mental health as operational infrastructure, counselling an Inspector can use without becoming a Legal Division case, and early recognition of burnout before it becomes a headline.

Incentives must follow: allowances for certified competencies, promotion credit for courses applied, not for attendance photographs. Asking for sophistication at the port with no path to acquire it is theatre.

A new uniform that can carry a camera, worn by an officer unprepared for the society he polices, is a costume. The station, the cell, the unseen hour Look next at where this officer lives and works. Many stations are old, congested and unhygienic. Living standards on duty are low. You cannot demand a different person in the uniform and house him as if he were expendable.

Cells are a particular failure of command. Too many sit out of sight of the men on duty. They are dilapidated. What happens inside goes unnoticed until a death, an assault or an escape. That is a design of our own buildings, not a secret of the underworld. A cell that cannot be seen cannot be defended in court or in conscience. Refurbish, fix sightlines, monitor what the Constitution requires, and treat an escape as a failure of supervision before it becomes a press note.

These are not welfare extras. They are the conditions under which evidence is kept, suspects are held, and officers decide whether the job is still worth the family cost.

The health of the officer is the health of the public

One of the first duties of the hierarchy is the health of the policeman and his family. A sick officer with a sick child is not “uncommitted.” He is a risk to himself, to the next raid, and to the citizen at the counter. Police hospitals are few. Officers in rural stations cannot reach them in time. The IGP should not wait for a building programme. Speak to the health authorities now. Arrange priority access for officers and their families at government hospitals. Dedicated wards or reserved beds are not a privilege class. They are the minimum owed to people sent into harm, and into other people’s crises, at every hour.

Good health is a good mind. A good mind is good care for the people. No uniform compensates for an officer who has not slept, has not been treated, and cannot reach a Police hospital.

What they must be tomorrow

The country does not need more decoration. It needs a service the public can approach without fear and that no politician can casually redirect: intelligence-led against networks that threaten the state; digitally capable and legally bounded; trained for communal heat as well as narcotics; housed and treated as human beings; collectively minded. We hold the ground, not I cleared the file.

The constable at the junction and the analyst tracing a hawala chain are the same institution. National security is not a specialist’s private property.

To the policymakers and the political authority

You have agreed with the Police hierarchy on a new outlook. Use it for more than cloth.

Independence is not the IGP’s personal autonomy. It is the institution’s ability to apply the law without fear or favour, and still answer to the law. You cannot have that and also have a Police summoned, transferred or publicly undermined according to the needs of the week.

Appointment and removal of the Inspector General must remain a process, not patronage. The National Police Commission must exercise its powers over promotions, transfers and discipline without being hectored from the gallery. Cabinet sets policy and budget. It does not choose Tuesday’s suspect. Comment from the House on the guilt of named officers while a file is open is not oversight. It is interference under another name.

If you want an apolitical Police, stop using internal inquiry as a factional weapon and social media as a substitute bench. Different treatment of files is the old disease. Naming it only when the officer is someone you dislike is the same disease.

Then fund what a new uniform implies: immediate training, habitable stations, cells that can be seen, and a health arrangement with the Ministry of Health that does not leave a rural sergeant’s family outside the gate. Announcing kit and withholding living conditions is not reform. It is dressing the service for a photograph.

The public has a part. Distinguish error from crime. Cooperate with the officer who is fair; demand consequences where he is not. In conflict, look at the uniform as the law, not as a census of name, faith or village. Do not outsource judgement to an anonymous account.

The stand It is not I. It should be We.

A new uniform will not make an officer Sri Lankan. Training, health, housing, an apolitical file, and a command that treats him as a human being might. A service that thinks in individual glory will be outrun by networks that think in systems. A political class that thinks in capture will keep receiving detections and wondering why the pipeline never closes. A country that argues about the cloth while the person inside it is exhausted, untrained for communal fire, and unseen in a dilapidated cell block is not preparing for tomorrow. It is rearranging the wardrobe.

The law cannot serve two masters. Neither can the uniform, old or new.

(This analysis is offered in the interest of national security, institutional reform, and public safety)

Mahil Dole, SSP (Retd.), served as Deputy Director in charge of the Counter-Terrorism Desk of the State Intelligence Service and later as Intelligence Coordinator to the Inspector General of Police. He is a former Member of the Sri Lanka Wakfs Board and author of Security Beyond Enforcement: Practical Approaches for a Safer Nation. Email – mahildole54@gmail.com

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Features

The Miss World 2026 scene …

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8 hours ago

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2026/09/17

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History was made under the lights on 05th September, as Joheirry Mola Dominguez, of the Dominican Republic, was crowned Miss World 2026 by outgoing queen Suchata Chuangsri of Thailand at April 2nd Square in Nha Trang, Vietnam.

It is only the second Miss World title for the Dominican Republic; 44 years after Mariasela Álvarez’s win in 1982. Reports described it as an “emotional and historic moment” for the nation.

Joheirry, 24, beat 110 other delegates to take the crown.

A dedicated educator and community advocate, she holds a degree in Business Management and Administration from Universidad Iberoamericana. She is Founder and President of “Voices of Tomorrow”, an initiative expanding access to English education for children in vulnerable communities. She also teaches Literature and Social Studies in English, and works as a correspondent for Univision New York’s Ventana a Quisqueya.

Her advocacy won hearts

It was her advocacy that won hearts.

“My Beauty With a Purpose is to take English programmes to kids in vulnerable communities,”

she said at the Grand Final. “Because I believe that when they know this language, the opportunities, the doors that can open to their life, it’s huge. English is a tool that will stay with them and benefit them for the rest of their lives.”

Spain’s Elisabeth Reynés finished 1st Runner-Up, while Malaysia’s Taanusiya Chetty, also winner of Beauty With a Purpose, took 2nd Runner-Up.

The Top 6 included Vietnam’s Le Nguyen Bao Ngoc, Eritrea’s Snit Habteab, and South Africa’s Romanda Hombir.

The 75th Anniversary edition, hosted for the first time in Vietnam, was a spectacle before 20,000 spectators. Staged on a 110+ meter outdoor platform by Nha Trang beach, the square was lit up with huge LED screens and high-power sound.

Even heavy rain during the Americas & Caribbean segment couldn’t dampen spirits. Umbrellas and raincoats popped up and the show resumed 15 minutes later. Nobody left. That’s dedication.

With 111 ambassadors, cultural dances, ao dai performances, and the seaside backdrop, officials called it a celebration of beauty, talent, confidence, and social responsibility.

With 20,000 people, rain or shine, screaming, cheering, live-streaming, waving flags… it was, indeed, pure Miss World magic.

For Sri Lanka, Prathibha Liyanaarachchi did not make the Top 40 at the 73rd Miss World Festival, but she reached the finalist stages of four fast-track events — Top Model, Talent, Sports, and Beauty With a Purpose.

Miss World magic: The square was lit up with huge LED screens and high-power sound

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