A Critical History of Women’s Health in Modern Sri Lanka
Darshi Thoradeniya,
Orient Black Swan, 2024
Book launched held at ICES (International Centre for Ethnic Studies):
“Sri Lanka gained prominence in international policy circles as an apparent ‘success story’ in the initial two decades of its independence. Crucial to this perception is women’s health, given its central importance to the indicators of decreasing population growth rate and decreasing mortality. However, how have individual women’s bodies fared within the twentieth-century Sri Lankan stories of development?
Through an examination of the history of women’s health in this island nation, A Critical History of Women’s Health in Modern Sri Lanka sets out to answer this question. Darshi Thoradeniya traces women’s health from the initial days of birth control and family planning, to development and population control, to militarization and financialization of women’s bodies. Questioning this ‘success story’, she shows how women’s bodies were framed around the notion of social reproduction for the nation-building project of post-independence Sri Lanka.
Through meticulous research, interviews, policies and advertisements, and oral narratives, the author highlights how the Sri Lankan state made use of women’s health, while at the same time silencing women’s corporeal experiences.
She argues that even though women’s health serves the state-building project and women’s bodies serve the nation-building project, women were neither subjects nor objects of these two projects. Women’s reproductive bodies were, rather, the ground for a complex and competing set of struggles on population, family planning, development, modernization and ethno-nationalism of post-independence Sri Lanka
This book will be a valuable addition to the fields of public health and public policy, history, women’s studies, history of medicine and the sociology of medicine.”
Au Sri Lanka, alors que les populations cingalaise et tamoule s’efforcent de vivre ensemble, un nouveau gouvernement arrive au pouvoir et accorde tous les privilèges aux Cingalais. Nous sommes en 1983, le pays bascule dans la guerre civile. Comme celle de milliers d’adolescents, la vie d’Antonythasan, surnommé « Shoba », change du jour au lendemain. Il prend les armes, quitte sa famille, et rejoint les rebelles du mouvement de la Libération Tamoule (LTTE). Mais ces derniers tombent dans l’engrenage de la violence, s’attaquent aux civils, et Shoba ne veut plus soutenir leurs actions. Comment partir sans trahir les siens ? Recherché, persécuté par la milice, le jeune homme se résout à l’exil. Des rives de l’île de Velanaï à Paris, en passant par les prisons de Bangkok, Shoba revient sur la période méconnue de la guerre civile au Sri Lanka. Il nous offre le témoignage inédit d’un homme, à la fois amoureux de son pays et en quête d’une terre d’asile.”
“This archival project is first of a series of Sri Lankans’ histories that focuses on mothers from the South and North. It highlights their strength in the face of adversity, and their hopes for their children’s and Sri Lanka’s future. Mothers are guardians of their family history. They are the pillars of strength upon which a family is built. As such, this project chooses to archive mothers’ stories, thereby recording the story of an entire family.
Everystory Lanka (formed in 2018) is a Sri Lankan-based feminist collective focused on storytelling and knowledge sharing. We use creative practices, mixed media, panel discussions, and more to create this space. We believe that stories and knowledge come in all shapes and forms, and it is within this complexity and potential for creativity that we engage.”
Everystory, in collaboration with the Embassy of France to Sri Lanka and the Maldives, presents A Day in the Life series – an audio-visual campaign that captures the everyday resilience of women in Sri Lanka who have shaped or been shaped by the country’s political, cultural, and social contexts.
In its pilot edition, launched in the spirit of the 2024 French Olympics, the series follows three Sri Lankan sportswomen through their day. From training sessions to balancing domestic responsibilities, careers, or education, we delve into their reflections on life, the challenges and politics of their practice, and the moments that inspire them to keep moving forward.
Stay tuned to our socials and YouTube as we share their stories.
Everystory, ශ්රී ලංකාවේ සහ මාලදිවයිනේ ප්රංශ තානාපති කාර්යාලය සමඟ සහයෝගයෙන්, රටේ දේශපාලන, සංස්කෘතික, සහ සමාජ සන්දර්භයන් හැඩගැස්වූ හා ඒවායින් හැඩගැස්වුනු, ශ්රී ලංකාවේ කාන්තාවන්ගේ එදිනෙදා ඔරොත්තු දීමේ හැකියාව ග්රහණය කර ගන්නා ශ්රව්ය-දෘශ්ය වියාපාරයක් වන A Day in the life වීඩියෝ මාලාව ඉදිරිපත් කරයි.
எவ்ரிஸ்டோரி இலங்கை, இலங்கை மற்றும் மாலைதீவுகளுக்கான பிரான்ஸ் தூதரகத்துடன் இணைந்து, எ டே இன் தி லைஃப் என்ற தொடரை வழங்குகிறது – இது ஒரு ஒலி-ஒளி ஊடான பிரச்சாரம் ஆகும், இது இலங்கையின் அரசியல், பண்பாட்டு மற்றும் சமூக சூழல்களால் வடிவமைக்கப்பட்ட அல்லது அவற்றை வடிவமைத்த மகளிரின் தினசரி வாழ்வை பதிவு செய்கிறது.
2024 ஆம் ஆண்டின் பிரெஞ்சு ஒலிம்பிக்ஸின் கருப்பொருளை பிரதிபலிக்கும் வகையில் தொடங்கப்பட்ட இதன் முதற் பதிப்பில், வீடியோ தொடர்கள் மூன்று பெண் இலங்கை விளையாட்டு வீரர்களின் அவர்களின் அன்றாட வாழ்க்கை வழியாக பின்தொடர்கிறது.பயிற்சிகள் முதல் வீட்டு அன்றாட பொறுப்புகள், தொழில் மற்றும் கல்வி ஆகியவற்றை சமமாக சமாளித்தல் , அவர்களின் வாழ்க்கை, அவர்களின் நடைமுறை
Producer – Thadini Liyanage
Cinematographer – Yoshitha Perera
Sound engineer – Bhanu Ekanayake
Editor – Sandaruwan Abesinghe
Music composed and produced by Hania Mariam Luthufi
“I am beyond excited to embark on the Third Edition of our Classical Intensive residency. Each iteration is specifically curated and developed by Akram and our team – to ensure that we create an immersive space of refuge and love for Indian Classical Dance, and the tradition that underpins its spine.
Our third series is being designed for a collective of Bharatanatyam artists in Sri Lanka, and will be delivered in the northern city of Jaffna. With a history and culture that is rich with creativity and artistry, it is surely the perfect ground for us to unite in our love for Bharatanatyam.”
– Mavin Khoo
AKC Classical Intensive – Jaffna | 9-13 December 2024
Akram Khan is a world-renowned dancer, choreographer and the founder of Akram Khan Company (AKC) in the UK. He has been an impactful dancer and choreographer who was initially trained as a Kathak dancer during his apprenticeship under various Kathak Gurus in Asia and elsewhere. He and his dance company have created numerous dance productions that surpass the traditional boundaries. Akram Khan is a recipient of top awards including two Laurence Olivier Awards, the Bessie Award (New York Dance and Performance Award), the prestigious ISPA (International Society for the Performing Arts) Distinguished Artist Award, the Fred and Adele Astaire Award, the Herald Archangel Award at the Edinburgh International Festival, the South Bank Sky Arts Award, and ten Critics’ Circle National Dance Awards for his company.
With the initiative of the British Council in Colombo, the Akram Khan Dance Company contacted me a few months ago. The Legacy International Project Manager of the AKC, Varsha Kumar sent me an email informing me of an exciting project the dance company wanted to initiate in Jaffna. It was an upcoming collaboration between Akram Khan Company supported by the British Council Colombo to conduct an intense dance exchange workshop. This initiative facilitated a five-day intensive cultural transmission of Bharatanatyam dance conducted by Mavin Khoo, the artistic associate of the Akram Khan Company with a selected group of youth from Jaffna.
The idea was to continue and sustain the traditional dance forms and explore how they could be sustained and continued further through innovative practices. Mavin Khoo visited Jaffna for the first time to initiate this cultural transmission project with the hope of conducting this intense workshop on Bharatanatyam. Mavin Khoo, trained as a traditional dancer in Bharatanatyam in Malaysia, is a choreographer and the creative collaborator of Akram Khan. Mavin holds an MA in Choreography from Middlesex University and was a faculty member of the Dance Studies Department, School of Performing Arts at the University of Malta in 2014. He has been working as the rehearsal director of the Akram Khan Company and is exploring traditional dance and its contemporary relevance as a mode of human agency and provocation.
It is an ongoing work that the AKC initiated and this collaboration will continue further in future. Here is something interesting about what happened when Khoo, Varsha and their team came to Colombo after finishing the Jaffna Classical Intensive project. The British council director Edward Orlando invited me to a networking lunch in Colombo, where Khoo and Varsha were present. At lunch, I met some of the Sri Lankan dance community representatives. They included versatile dancers such as Upeka Chitrasena, Heshma Wignaraja, and Kapila Palihawadana. We shared our thoughts and ideas about dance and future collaborations during lunch. After this session, Upeka Chitrasena invited us to visit Chitrasena Dance Company. Akram Khan Company focused on helping peripheral dance groups to sustain and continue their traditional dance heritage and encouraged them to expand their possibilities of innovations, and the Chitrasena Dance Company in Colombo is also dedicated to preserving and continuing Sri Lankan traditional dance practices for posterity.
Dance as Ekstasis
I am not a dancer, but I have been interested in dance and dance theatre throughout my academic career. Dance and theatre share many elements and it is the body that is central to the dancer and actor’s work. A few days ago, at the Faculty of Medicine, a session was conducted by the Centre for Meditation Research on how movement facilitates happiness and wellbeing. With my research collaborators, Kanchana Malshani and Chamanee Darshika, I demonstrated how movement is central to our understanding of the self and the world. The key question that I posed at the seminar is that movement allows us to understand our body, time and space and allows us to understand how we could connect with other bodies. Movement is the primal element of the body of the animated being.
What fascinates me here is that actor/dancer experiences time and space and the Other, in a different way than we experience the same phenomena on the daily basis. Dance scholar and Philosopher Sheets Maxine-Johnston argues that Man comprises temporality within himself, for he is such an ekstatic being. He is always at a distance of himself, always in flight” (Sheets-Johnston, 2015, pp. 16-17). This statement clearly indicates how the dance and dance experience override the objective time and space. Greek etymology of the word ekstatic means how one emancipates from her/his own self and transcends for the daily reality. In this sense, the moving body of the dancer, as I witnessed at the Chitrasena Dance Company, shows that dancers’ “being” is not in the daily reality when they intensely move their bodies in the space and time with the complex drum ensemble. Hence, I argue that our understanding about time and space is constructed through the physiological and mathematical understanding of time and space. The other is understood in a way that we as selves are constructed and defined through various lingual and cultural discourses. In this sense, the dancer/actor surpasses these constructed boundaries when the body becomes animated through dance and acting.
We sat at the Chitrasena Dance Company in the afternoon of Dec., 14 2024, and Khoo and Varsha were scheduled to leave Colombo a few hours later. An intense and galvanising performance was unveiled at the bare stage of Chitrasena Dance Company with Thaji Dias and the dance ensemble with seven master drum players. One after the other, a series of traditional dance repertoires unfolded before our eyes. Particularly Thaji Dias’ mesmerising and electrifying bodily motility of Kandyan, Low Country and Sabaragamuwa styles blended with intense rigor and precision. It was evident that some of the dance repertoires that Thaji and the lead male dancer performed were somewhat improvisational, bringing key elements of Kandyan dance into an ecstasy of performance. Both dancers seemed to be connected with each other through somatic means, communicating with facial and bodily gestures to trigger certain dance repertoire to perform together. I witnessed that both dancers were kinesthetically and sensorially joined through learned repertoires to perform a new interpretation of Kandyan dance form.
Cultural Transmission
These traditional dance performances triggered several important questions related to the dance body and cultural transmission of somatic knowledge. First, when Heshma, the artistic director and choreographer of Chitrasena Dance Company introduced a particular dance repertoire developed and choreographed by Vajira Chitrasena, she articulated this as a cultural transmission of choreographic knowledge which came through two generations of dancers. This statement triggered several important questions related to dance historiography. When Chitrasena and Vajira choreographed their works, it may have been done through the embodied knowledge that they possessed through what they learnt and mastered from the traditional Gurus. However, Chitrasena and Vijira may have understood that replicating traditional dance and its repertoire would not add any innovation to their dance interventions. My interest was drawn to this phenomenon and the question emerged on how these individual dance artists have distilled the traditional Kandyan dance to modernist choreographic works through adding innovative elements to their newly founded body notations.
Researchers who are working on the intangible cultural heritage mainly focus on how traditional dance and heritage can be transmitted. They are mainly concerned about how these traditions are continued and sustained through contemporary dance ensembles. However, the intangible heritage discourse has least focused on how these dance traditions have been changing through time and how these new elemental changes have been transformed and transmitted to the next generation of dancers. During our encounters with dance choreographer and artistic director of Chitrasena Dance Company, Heshma discussed how they “do” dance. Her articulation of “doing” dance rather than talking about dance explains how they transmit knowledge of somatic elements of dance through bodies. She said, “We rarely talk … we do not use language but we do dance”. One of the challenges posed by these issues is that the corporeal learning and embodied knowledge cannot be objectified in the researcher’s eyes. They are somatically embedded in the dancers’ bodies and are sedimented within their dance repertoires. A meticulous observation, analysis and categorisation will be required for someone to understand and identify how these dance elements have been changed and embedded in the dancer’s body. As I believe, new dance ethnographic research would be useful for researchers to extricate those elemental dance repertoires to understand how contemporary dancers’ bodies embody dance heritage in their somatic memories.
Conclusion
Akram Khan and his creative associate Mavin Khoo explore the possibilities of preserving traditional dance forms while seeking opportunities to revive them through innovative practices. The Chitrasena Dance Company working in the field of traditional Sri Lankan dance ambitiously is in search of a new era of Sri Lankan dance while passing the Chitrasena -Vajira dance heritage to the next generation of dancers and choreographers. Both companies share similar objectives in dance preservation and innovations within the highly contested Global cultural domains. Khan, Khoo, Chitrasena, Vajira, Thaji and other dancers embody a vast knowledge of somatic practices akin to their own dance traditions. Yet, these ekstatic bodies transcend the daily constructed selves, which carry the somatic knowledge of dance that are waiting to be disseminated in the bodies of the next generation of dancers. These areas of dance-ethnography should be further developed to understand the embodied knowledge and the somatic practices infiltrated through the generations of dancers and drummers. New dance-ethnography, dance historiography and new methodologies should be developed and applied to deepen our understanding of dance as an explicit knowledge of human expressions, emotions and ecstasy.
References
Sheets-Johnston, M. (2015). The phenomenology of dance. Philadelphia (Pensilvania, Estados Unidos) Temple University Press.
Nürnberger, Marianne. 2014. “Vajira – the First Professional Female Dancer of the Sinhalese Style.” Sri Lanka Journal of Humanities 40 (0): 99. https://doi.org/10.4038/sljh.v40i0.7232.
Raheem, Mirak. 2022. “Vajira: The Pioneering Female Dancer.” South Asian Dance Intersections 1 (1). https://doi.org/10.55370/sadi.v1i1.1475.
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Saumya Liyanage is an actor and professor in Drama and Theatre, currently working at the Department of Theatre Ballet and Modern Dance, Faculty of Dance and Drama, University of Visual and Performing Arts, Colombo, Sri Lanka. saumya.l@vpa.ac.lk
The author wishes to thank Himansi Dehigama for her assistance in preparing this article.
Keeping memory alive: The exhibition on Malaiyaga Tamils shows the need for justice
Sunday Times
By Johann Peiris
A fistful of earth tied to a corner of a sari pallu hangs as one of the exhibits in the old Matara courthouse. This display was recreated by Sujata, a welfare officer at Oliphant Estate in Nuwara Eliya, inspired by a story among the Malaiyaga community. During the forced repatriation of Malaiyaga Tamils from Sri Lanka to India in the 1970s and 1980s, some women would take soil from the land of their birth, Sri Lanka, to in effect consecrate temples they made in India. This speaks of the powerful emotional tie to the country from which they were forcibly uprooted. This precious earth from a kovil was believed to have curative properties.
At a time when colonial histories are being widely re-examined and historical narratives energetically contested across the world, the Malaiyaga Tamils have mostly been confined to a footnote. ‘Is the tea plant a tea bush or a tree?’ asked Velusamy Weerasin-gham, who was moderating a discussion on the Malaiyaga community last weekend in Matara, part of a series of events curated by the Collective for Historical Dialogue and Memory around the exhibition, ‘Rooted: Histories of the Malaiyaga Tamils’. Some say a bush. But it is a tree, he corrects them, making a broader point.
“The Malaiyagam is symbolic of this. The colonial Raj and majority communities pruned the plant aggressively to extract the maximum yield, but, if given the right conditions, we can also blossom into a healthy tall tree,” he says. The term ‘Malaiyaga’ means ‘from the hills’ and was introduced in the 1950s when they were still referred to as ‘kallatoni’ or illicit boat people. The term Malaiyaga acknowledges their roots to the land.
The singer T.M. Krishna in an article in late September recounted meeting a young Malaiyaga Tamil writer who regarded the long-used official categorisation of Indian-Origin Tamils “as a bane; (that) only placed them in no-man’s land.”
Inevitably, while viewing the exhibition, debates sometimes arose with members from the majority community over the term ‘plantation workers’ or ‘estate workers’ to refer to the Malaiyagam. A panel at the exhibition duly addressed these issues, going back to derogatory terms used for the community and how it is necessary to change. Even today, many people in Sinhala and English use ‘wathu demala’ or ‘estate Tamils’.
The idea of holding an exhibition to mark 200 years of the arrival of the Malaiyaga Tamils was conceived by CHDM in late 2022. The first recorded effort to introduce Indian labour on plantations here was in 1823.
Collaborating with the Institute for Social Development and the Tea Plantation Workers’ Museum and Archive in Gampola, CHDM was able to display artefacts such as the kambili (blanket) and thappu (frame drum) that represent a sense of belonging for the Malaiyaga Tamils. A session with leading Malaiyagam academics and professionals provided feedback on the exhibition’s framework, especially to highlight the community’s own efforts to demand rights as opposed to being viewed as passive victims. With the support of ISD, CHDM joined a workshop in Hatton in March 2023 with poets, journalists, teachers, public servants and activists and documented their memories of these objects.
Last weekend, a group of young cultural artists from Nawalapitiya performed with the thappu. This drum was used by the first migrants to ward off wild animals as they made a perilous journey of 150 miles to tea plantations, carrying bundles of tamarind rice and basic provisions that suggested they expected the journey to be much shorter. Thappu player Moses Suresh, 28, and the others in his group are former students of the Kandaloya Tamil Maha Vidyalaya, whose inspiring principal is Yatiyantota Karunagaran. The school actively encourages students to embrace Malaiyagam cultural heritage, learning folk songs and organising street dramas.
Suresh and his friends are completing their university education at the Eastern University in Batticaloa, a huge achievement given that members of the community still struggle to be on par with national educational attainment levels. When they light-heartedly demonstrated beats of a deity-possessed man, the deity delivered a message through the medium: “It is your…duty as educated youth…..to preserve…..this heritage for the future.”
Voices of the community such as Karunagaran were presented through an audio-visual installation to reinforce that Malaiyaga Tamils have also risen to become lawyers, award-winning writers, engineers, businessmen and tea-tasters.
In taking the exhibition to Nuwara Eliya, Colombo and now Matara over the past year or so, we have seen that it evokes a range of emotions. One person, aged 65, said sounds could also trigger haunting memories; Oppari Kochchi, or the lamenting coach, was the sound of steam engine trains that was associated with the painful separations of families due to repatriations to India.
The overwhelming response, however, was that many visitors were not aware that the histories of the Malaiyaga were so intertwined with the history of the nation. A young Malaiyaga woman wrote, “I was born and raised in Sri Lanka but stuttered with tears to learn about my ancestors’ journey. Even though they tried so hard to give us a good life, we are still in the same hardships.”
Another visitor to the Colombo exhibition put it, “We are aware of slavery in terms of what happened in Britain and America, but our history books have nothing to show what happened on our own soil.” CHDM hopes to take the exhibition to more cities, including Jaffna, in the next few months.
One huge positive is that in 2024, the community will have the option of identifying themselves as Malaiyaga Tamil on the Sri Lanka census for the first time. But, the need for societal change has a long way to go. Almost two-thirds of the Malaiyagam still live in line rooms, originally constructed during the colonial period with a single source of water and communal latrines. Land distribution measures for the most part were not extended to the community. Groups from the community are in conversations to include their history in textbooks. A public apology by both India and Sri Lanka for the forced repatriation would be a step towards redressing historical wrongs.
Coincidentally, protest posters bearing slogans from earlier years to recent times were placed along the judge’s seat in the Matara courthouse, a metaphor for the community’s continued need for justice.
(Johann Peiris works for the Collective for Historical Dialogue and Memory and was part of the curatorial team of the exhibition)
et ouvrage propose, à travers une analyse tant spatiale que politique et culturelle, dans une perspective comparative à l’aide de trois terrains asiatiques (Colombo, Kuala Lumpur et Singapour), d’étudier les différents modes et degrés d’intégration des minorités tamoules, tant localement (évaluer leur citadinité), nationalement (évaluer leur citoyenneté) que mondialement (situer leurs transnationalités diasporiques). L’analyse des politiques menées par la puissance coloniale, puis par les trois États indépendants à l’égard des minorités, permet de mieux comprendre leurs impacts sur le sentiment d’identification et d’intégration des Tamouls à la nation, ainsi que sur leur répartition dans ces villes. À l’échelle locale, les politiques urbaines développées par les États, qui selon les cas préservent ou détruisent les ethnoterritoires, transforment l’empreinte urbaine et la pratique de la ville des Tamouls et influent sur la façon dont ils perçoivent leur appartenance à la nation. Enfin, les liens transnationaux et les dynamiques migratoires internationales contemporaines des Tamouls dans ces trois pays ont aussi des conséquences sur leur identification et leur intégration
The island nation’s young crop of writers is winning international awards and starting conversations on their post-war society and its unique challenges
(From right) Authors Shehan Karunatilaka, V.V. Ganeshananthan, Yudhanjaya Wijeratne, Shankari Chandran, and Thushanthi Ponweera. | Photo Credit: Special arrangement
The past years have seen numerous Sri Lankan writers and those of Sri Lankan origin make their mark on the literary awards circuit. Recently, V.V. Ganeshananthan won the 2024 Carol Shields Prize for Fiction and 2024 Women’s Prize for Fiction for her novel Brotherless Night, which took 18 years to write. Australian-Tamil author of Sri Lankan Tamil heritage, Shankari Chandran, won the 2023 Miles Franklin Literary Award for her third novel, Chai Time at Cinnamon Gardens, which is set in contemporary Australia and 1980s Sri Lanka; her first book Song of the Sun God is being adapted for television, starring Bridgerton’s Charithra Chandran.
Author V.V. Ganeshananthan | Photo Credit: Special arrangement
Shehan Karunatilaka’s Seven Moons of Maali Almeida won the 2022 Booker Prize, while his debut novel Chinaman: The Legend of Pradeep Mathew won the DSC Prize for South Asian Literature and the 2012 Commonwealth Book Prize. Vajra Chandrasekera’s debut novel The Saint of Bright Doors was recently awarded the Nebula award for best novel, Locus first novel award and 2024 Crawford award, and was shortlisted for a Hugo award. In 2021, Sri Lankan Tamil author Anuk Arudpragasam was shortlisted for the Booker Prize for his second novel A Passage North; previously, his first novel The Story of a Brief Marriage (2016), won the DSC Prize for South Asian fiction.
Sri Lankan author Anuk Arudpragasam | Photo Credit: Getty Images
Sri Lankans — both resident in the island and in the diaspora — have been telling their stories for decades, but when literature is shaped by the marketplace and writing is ascribed value by literary gatekeepers of the western world, perhaps the world hasn’t been ready to hear these stories.
“The idea that Sri Lankan creative writing in English has come into the spotlight only recently is possible only when we focus on the international awards Sri Lankan writers have been winning of late. But writers living in Sri Lanka, as well as diasporic authors have been writing for a long time,” says Neloufer de Mel, Senior Professor of English (Chair) at the University of Colombo. “What has happened now is that a generation of Sri Lankan writers, who are between 30 and 50 years of age, are writing on the Sri Lankan war, its society, and its politics in new ways and voices. They also belong to a more global generation with international links and so, have been successful in getting their work internationally published and in circulation. It is this generational shift that I think is important to mark, and what is exciting is their new voices, figurative imaginations, use of language, and the stories they tell.”
Writing as a team sport
In the 90s and early 2000s, writers such as Michael Ondaatje, Romesh Gunesekera, Shyam Selvadurai, Carl Muller and Michelle de Kretser were also successful in publishing internationally and reaching wider audiences. Currently, Yudhanjaya Wijeratne, Amanda Jayatissa, Nizrana Farook, Thushanthi Ponweera and Shyala Smith are among the new crop of writers making their mark in science fiction, thriller, and children’s writing, internationally. Their books display inventiveness in form and explore a variety of themes drawing from Buddhist mythology, Sri Lanka’s socio-political history, its civil war and more.
Author Shehan Karunatilaka | Photo Credit: Special arrangement
“I think it is always nice when writing — which can be very solitary — becomes more of a team sport where you are able to cheer for other people who are interested in the themes, ideas, people and communities that you are, and who have their own approaches and language and energy that they’re bringing. It just makes the conversation so much more interesting and exciting and less lonely. I think it’s the beginning of great things, hopefully, to come for writing connected to Sri Lanka and I hope that it will expand so that those who are working in Sinhala and Tamil also get more of the spotlight because I know remarkable work has been taking place in these languages for a really long time,” says novelist Ganeshananthan, who is based in the U.S.
Author Thushanthi Ponweera | Photo Credit: Special arrangement
While writing and publishing in English remains a niche market in Sri Lanka, the country has a long literary tradition of Sinhala and Tamil writing. Although there has been little overlap in recent years, there are ongoing efforts to encourage translations and cross-pollination between the three languages. “Translations are very important because this is the way you get to read each other’s work, particularly in monolingual societies as in Sri Lanka. There are very few people who work in literary translation here and this is a great setback. The Gratiaen Trust has offered the H.A.I. Goonetilleke Prize for translation of creative writing from Sinhala and Tamil into English since 2003 to encourage such translations,” says de Mel, former chair of the Gratiaen Trust. “University departments of English and Sinhala have also added translation, either as a course or module, into their curricula in Sri Lanka. These are good initiatives, but we need a concerted effort to encourage and train more literary translators because this is a special field in its own right.”
Author Shankari Chandran | Photo Credit: Special arrangement
Long road to publishing
While there is a welcome spotlight on stories about Sri Lanka, the road to publication remains long. In interviews, author Karunatilaka has spoken of the struggle to get Seven Moons published. It was seen as a ‘difficult’ book by many — the only publisher willing to take it on was an independent firm, Sort Of Books, based in the U.K.
Author Yudhanjaya Wijeratne | Photo Credit: Special arrangement
In 2022, Sri Lanka faced its worst economic crisis since independence, and is currently rebuilding from the aftershock. In a bid to increase government revenue, the state has imposed taxes on previously exempt industries such as publishing. For writers based in Sri Lanka, this is yet another challenge to overcome. “The price of books [fiction] is exorbitant, so writers find it hard to access contemporary fiction. Writers need to read and when a country levies high taxes on books, it dampens critical thinking and creativity,” says Ramya Jirasinghe, who recently won the 2023 Gratiaen prize for her unpublished novel, Father Cabraal’s Recipe for Love Cake.
A generation of Sri Lankan writers, who are between 30 and 50 years of age, are writing on the Sri Lankan war, its society, and its politics in new ways and voices. | Photo Credit: Getty Images
But for many Sri Lankan writers, the recent spotlight on Sri Lankan stories is encouraging. “If you accept how small this country is, how small our reading/writing population in English is, and how hard it is for local writers to access resources, what is happening now is groundbreaking. Shehan and Ashok [Ferrey] have broken into global markets becoming trailblazers for others and have shown that it can be done from Sri Lanka,” says Jirasinghe. “Sri Lanka is very unique even within South Asia, which means that our stories really must leave these shores and encounter readers from around the world.”
Anura Kumara Dissanayaka a été élu dimanche soir président du Sri Lanka, devenant le premier président de gauche du pays. D’obédience marxiste et fils de paysan, il incarne un renouveau politique très attendu…
Avec
Delon Madavan Géographe, chercheur associé au Centre d’Études de l’Inde et de l’Asie du Sud de l’EHESS
La prise de fonction de Dissanayaka intervient deux ans après la révolution citoyenne : il a promis de “faire de son mieux” pour relever le pays, en répondant aux aspirations de la population face à l’austérité.
Qui est Anura Kumara Dissanayaka, le nouveau président du Sri Lanka ?
Dissanayaka, le nouveau président du Sri Lanka, a connu une trajectoire tout à fait singulière. D’abord leader du parti d’inspiration marxiste JVP, le Front de Libération du Peuple, il a mené dans les années 1970 et 1980 deux insurrections pour renverser l’État sri-lankais, considéré comme capitaliste et impérialiste. Mais la violence de la répression coûta la vie de 60 000 personnes, retrace Delon Madavan. “Dissanayaka a donc renoncé à la violence et a recentré sa position politique en reconnaissant la nécessité de composer avec l’économie de marché”. Son élection, pourtant surprenante après des scores électoraux marginaux en 2019, est largement due au soutien du mouvement de protestation “Aragalaya”, né en réaction à la crise économique et politique de 2022.
Les défis du nouveau président
Depuis cette date, la situation au Sri Lanka reste très précaire. Selon Delon Madavan, Dissanayaka fait face à des attentes considérables : “pendant sa campagne, il a voulu rassurer sur son engagement marxiste, tout le monde craignant qu’il n’applique le plan de sauvetage du FMI. S’il ne compte pas le rejeter, il a promis d’en renégocier les termes, notamment pour alléger le fardeau fiscal qui pèse sur la population, dont un quart vit désormais sous le seuil de pauvreté. Parmi ses autres priorités figurent la lutte contre la corruption et la poursuite des membres de la famille Rajapaksa [famille influente dans la politique sri-lankaise, NDLR] pour détournement de fonds et abus de pouvoir. Il souhaite “aussi éviter que les fleurons de l’économie nationale ne tombent entre les mains étrangères via des privatisations”. Dissanaeke doit rétablir la confiance dans une classe politique accusée de népotisme et d’autoritarisme tout en gérant une situation économique très inflammable.
About the book: https://www.community.lk/history/442-ravana-s-lanka-sunela-jayawardene-s-quest-to-uncover-sri-lanka-s-ancient-civilizations
The Line of Lanka. Myths & Memories of an Island
Sunela Jayawardene, 2017, Sailfish
Sit back and let yourself be swept along in Sunela Jayewardene’s intrepid journeys across Lanka’s lush countryside. Join her and rediscover myth & legend, history & heritage as she adroitly describes nature’s enduring beauty and oft forgotten traditions that pulse to the beat of an unseen drum. Line of Lanka is a brilliant and unusual portrayal of a country and its people that will change your perceptions of Sri Lanka.
‘Water for Kings’: A poetic tragedy echoing Sri Lanka’s own divides
03 Sep 2024 | By Venessa Anthony
Taking the stage at Kolamba Kamatha over the weekend was ‘Water for Kings’, which captivated audiences with its powerful narrative and evocative performances. The production was staged from 29 August to 1 September, with an extra matinee show on Sunday (1) due to high demand.
The Daily Morning Brunch had the opportunity to witness this profound piece of theatre, and the experience was nothing short of remarkable. Directed by Mind Adventures Theatre Co. founder and Artistic Director Tracy Holsinger and written by Ramya Jirasinghe, ‘Water for Kings’ left us deeply moved, its compelling performances and resonant themes making a mark.
The cast, led by Prof. Saumya Liyanage, Brandon Ingram, Hidaayath Hazeer, Shala Amarasuriya, and Tharusha Kumarasinghe, delivered powerful portrayals that brought this tragic narrative to life. Supporting them were the versatile talents of Dinuli Mendis, Sonali Wanigabaduge, Nabeel Nooramith, and Udula Karawita, with Shala Amarasuriya also contributing as the Music Director, adding an emotive layer to this already impactful production.
In a world where access to water is both a necessity and a luxury, ‘Water for Kings’ masterfully transformed this universal truth into a tragic tale that felt both timeless and eerily relevant. Written in contemporary verse, this play was more than just a theatrical performance – it was a profound commentary on power, inequality, and the high costs of social change.
Set in a mythic land divided into Wet and Dry Zones, ‘Water for Kings’ explored the stark differences between the haves and the have-nots, with water serving as the metaphorical lifeblood that separated them. The Wet Zone thrives, lush and abundant, while the Dry Zone, neglected and parched, becomes a symbol of marginalisation. The play didn’t shy away from drawing parallels to real-world issues, particularly those familiar to Sri Lankan audiences, where geographical and socio-political divisions continue to shape the nation’s landscape.
The power of water as a metaphor
Water, in this play, is more than just a resource; it’s a symbol of power, control, and the inequalities that arise when that power is abused. The deliberate restriction of water to the Dry Zone by the ruling class of the Wet Zone is a clear allegory for how resources are hoarded by those in power, leaving the marginalised to suffer. This is a story that resonates deeply, especially in a country like ours, where similar disparities between regions have historically led to conflict.
The play’s protagonist, Prince Muthukumar, represented the rare figure of a ruler who is not content to let such injustices continue. When he visits the Dry Zone, guided by Rani, a slave girl turned concubine, he is confronted with the harsh reality of the land’s suffering. This moment of revelation is a turning point, not just for the character, but for the entire narrative. The visuals of the Dry Zone, depicted as a wasteland of shrivelled, desperate souls, are haunting and powerful, driving home the severity of their plight.
A chorus of the forgotten
One of the play’s most striking elements was its use of a chorus made up of the dead from the Dry Zone. These spectral figures, embodying the ghosts of those who perished due to the lack of water, served as a powerful reminder of the consequences of neglect. Their presence was a constant, unsettling force that pushed the narrative forward, compelling Prince Muthukumar to confront the failures of his lineage.
Their influence culminates in a scene where they confront the King himself, forcing him to see the devastation his ignorance had caused. This confrontation, and the subsequent change of heart it inspired in the King, marks the beginning of a new era for the Dry Zone, as the King finally begins to take action to rectify the wrongs of the past.
The tragedy of good intentions
But ‘Water for Kings’ is not content to leave its audience with a simple tale of redemption. The second act of the play delved into the complexities of power, showing how even the best intentions can be thwarted by ambition and manipulation. The introduction of the High Priest, a figure who opposes the King’s reforms, added a layer of intrigue and tension to the story. The Priest, portrayed with a chilling intensity by Brandon Ingram, represented the entrenched interests that resist change, preferring to maintain control at any cost.
As the King prepares to abdicate, intending to pass the throne to his two sons, it becomes clear that his vision of joint rule is doomed to fail. The play poignantly illustrated how power struggles, even within a family, can lead to disaster. Prince Asvajith, the weaker of the two brothers, becomes a pawn in the High Priest’s game, manipulated into making decisions that ultimately bring about the kingdom’s downfall.
Muthukumar, the King’s favoured son and the architect of many of the kingdom’s reforms, tragically meets his end in a storm, a symbolic representation of the chaos that ensues when good intentions are not enough to bring about lasting change. His death, while poetic, left the audience with a sense of unfinished business – a reminder that change is often messy and incomplete.
A commentary on modern Sri Lanka
‘Water for Kings’ subtly, yet powerfully, comments on contemporary issues in Sri Lanka. The divide between the Wet and Dry Zones is a thinly veiled reference to the real-world divisions between the country’s north and south, where resources and opportunities are often unevenly distributed. The play’s exploration of how faith leaders can influence political decisions is also particularly relevant, given the country’s history of religious and political entanglements.
The play does not shy away from criticising those who are quick to dismiss the suffering of others simply because they do not share the same geographical or cultural background. The King’s initial ignorance of the Dry Zone’s plight is a stark reminder of how easy it is to turn a blind eye to the suffering of those who are different or distant.
Impressive performances and production
The cast delivered strong performances across the board, with standout moments from Hidaayath Hazeer as Prince Muthukumar and Shala Amarasuriya as Rani. Hazeer captures the complexity of Muthukumar’s character – a ruler torn between his duty and his compassion – while Amarasuriya brings a quiet strength to her role, making Rani the emotional core of the play.
The production itself is minimalist, but this worked to the play’s advantage, allowing the powerful dialogue and verse to take centre stage. The choreography was particularly effective, with the actors doubling as both the background and the set, creating a fluid, dynamic stage that enhanced the storytelling.
Sound design was another highlight, with the use of the venue’s acoustics adding to the overall atmosphere. The original orchestra music, performed by the actors themselves, added a layer of authenticity and emotion to the play, though some moments – particularly the love song between Muthukumar and Rani – felt slightly underdeveloped.
We found ‘Water for Kings’ to be a play that demands attention, both for its poetic craftsmanship and its poignant social commentary. While it is dialogue-heavy, as expected for a piece written in contemporary verse, the play’s message is clear and resonant. It’s a story that, while set in a mythical past, feels all too real in today’s world.
The play’s exploration of the consequences of ignoring expertise, the dangers of misguided opposition, and the relentless pursuit of power makes it a thought-provoking experience that lingers long after the final curtain falls. In a country still grappling with its own divisions, ‘Water for Kings’ serves as a powerful reminder of the costs of inequality and the urgent need for true, meaningful change.
Silence in the jungle is eerie. A man and a woman in their vibrant youthfulness move in silence. The silence of the woman is deafening. The audience eagerly awaits to hear her voice. She does not talk much. In fact, she is silent almost throughout the film as if she has taken a vow of silence. She speaks mainly with her eyes and face expressions. Those emotions embody and speak volumes about the tragedy of her life – a tragedy befallen on her for a crime not committed by her.
She is Tikiri, one out of the two protagonists in Gaadi, the latest film by Prasanna Vithanage.
Set in British Colonial period of Sri Lanka in 1814 Gaadi is a film about complexity of human relations, identity, political upheavals of pre-colonial and colonial Sri Lanka and the subjugation of an outcast community through caste system.
What Prasanna says is useful as an entry point to this review.
“In this historical epic journey, two people from two different social strata are brought together against their will and struggle to co-exist refusing to lose their identity. When pushed to the limits of survival, in order to survive, they finally come to realize that life doesn’t exist on identity itself.
I thought of using this theme as an allegory to question this illusion, in a world where humans constantly wage wars in the name of national or religious identity”.
This film is an epic of a particular historical moment in Sri Lanka at one level. At another level, it is not necessarily a story set in the past history of colonial times. We slowly begin to realize it only when we get detached from the story. This film is about the present and the future of Sri Lanka. It is about the identity politics at its worst. Prasanna tells us a story through the lens of history – a history that has not only been constantly repeated in the present times but also descended to an abysmal decay. While watching the film, we sense the uneasy and inevitable connection between the lives of the subaltern in the pre-colonial period and the lives of people living in the despicable conditions in the modern world. This troubling understanding originates from the following perspective of the artist.
“Generally speaking, art is an expression of man’s need for a harmonious and complete life, that is to say, his need for those major benefits of which a society of classes has deprived him. That is why a protest against reality, either conscious or unconscious, active or passive, optimistic or pessimistic, always forms part of a really creative piece of work. Every new tendency in art has begun with rebellion”. – Leon Trotsky’s Art and Politics in Our Epoch (June 1938)
The film wages a very conscious protest against realities of the past and the present times. The protest that Tikiri and Vijaya are waging in the film is not distinctly manifest. It is hidden yet palpable. Beneath that apparently simple storyline, there is the undercurrent of human desire to struggle against class and caste system, discrimination and social injustice. This struggle is not necessarily pronounced through direct presentation of visuals or dialogue. It is hidden deep inside the core of the film.
The Gaadi clan is obviously placed within pre-colonial and colonial times. The audience cannot miss the subjugation of the Gaadi clan within that socio-political context. The film provides a kaleidoscopic view of the subaltern in transformation. They beg; sing; dance; face violence; live in fear of the aristocracy. They are the “human dust” as scornfully pronounced by Ehelapola Adigar, Prime Minister of the kingdom.
But then they protest, not necessarily through a rebellion. Vijaya, the young man representing the clan demonstrates a silent protest. He survives the wrath of the aristocracy together with the woman joining him from the aristocracy.
In essence, Gaadi deals with identity of people. It surreptitiously demonstrates that our society is riddled with a structural crisis beyond the issue of identity. It shows that we are still deeply stuck in the quagmire of racial and religious hatred. People are yet to see the true opponent – the larger system that feeds on such division, inequality and social injustice. All these social realities are embedded in the cinematic language and brilliant artistry.
They say “art brings to our attention the greatest human concerns not in the form of scientific or philosophical reasoning but in pictorial and sensuous form, in concrete images which please or move or trouble or do all three”. (The Sky between the Leaves by David Walsh 2013)
Gaadi for sure does all three, particularly the last.
It is a film dealing with the stifled voice of the subaltern – a community subjugated by the aristocracy. In a larger perspective, it is about all people living in suppressive socio-economic structures looking for their freedom. However, freedom for Gaadi community proud to be Children of the Sun does not come easy. In fact, the price to be paid is heavy.
The last scene of the film with Tikiri and Vijaya standing on the edge of a mountain top and looking at the far away vista is telling. This is where Vijaya is pondering over what both of them should do after seeing mass killing of his clan.
This is where Tikiri speaks to Vijaya for the last time in the film.
“He (the Chief of the Clan) wanted to see you live and continue the clan.”
After two of them slowly vanish into the thick jungle, following postscript appears on the screening.
The British went back on the promise given to the Kandyan leaders. On 15th February 1815 Ceylon became a colony under the British rule. They abolished the influence of the caste system on the specification of professions. The members of the rodiya caste thus gradually changed their identity and integrated themselves with the other lower strata of society.
Truly the Gaadi community integrated themselves to the lower strata of the society and we come to realize that the lower strata of the current society remains at the lower strata fast descending to the lowest.
Deeply etched in to this socio-political setting of the yesteryear, it is also a story of blossoming love. The love that is unspoken throughout the film between an aristocratic woman condemned and a man of the Gaadi community oppressed.
It is a human relation in transformation. From beginning to the end of the film, the audience accompanies two human beings in their journey. The audience witnesses their struggle and critical events that test their patience, endurance and trust. They are confronted with personal as well as socio-political events of the time. They know that they will survive or perish in those circumstances.
There is careful weaving and gradual building of their unspoken love. It is deliberately built up from one visual to the next creating a great deal of curiosity in the spectator. The audience feels that mthe tension between Tikiri and Vijaya is being built up to a crescendo. The conflict between the two creates tension. Tikiri cannot come to terms with the reality that she has become part of an outcast community. Her deep-seated aristocratic roots do not allow her to take on the new identity thrust upon her. At the end, she reached a stage where she goes through a change based on the gradual development of human connection with Vijaya.
One of the unique characteristics of this film is its simplicity.
The film maker adopts linear story telling technique. The film maker does not allow the form to override the content. The form is an integral part of the content. There is no enigmatic and unfathomable film technique or flashbacks. It does not mean such techniques are essentially bad. But this film does not seem to require them. At one level, it is simply historical story retold with an interpretation of film makers’ imagination and creativity.
There is one distinct characteristic or signature of Prasanna’s films. He adheres to minimalism religiously. If there is dialogue in this film, it is because the film cannot exist without it. Frugality is his forte. One ideal example to prove this point is his use of music in the film. We find only three instances where he decides to play background music. And when he does that, it creates the ultimate impact. When Vijaya and Tikiri run for their life through the jungle, they emerge on a rock with an expansive view of mountainous range. Then we hear a sobering music piece with a violin expressing its love and affection. This is the expression of Vijaya’s love for Tikiri. This music piece takes us to the heart of Vijaya filled with love and affection for Tikiri..
He relies heavily on the visual and character development. He allows characters wander freely in relation to their particular circumstances. He lets them encounter life experiences and present them to the audience visually. The audience slowly comes to grips with gradual development of the characters from skeletal forms to fully enriched human beings. These human beings are compassionate, loving, empathetic, violent and egoistic and full of contradictions.
Special mention should be made to the quality of cinematography and editing. Editing of the film by Sreekar Prasad, the Indian film editor seems seamless. When the soldiers of the King’s army ride on horseback to capture the family of Bulathgama Adigar, we hear the pounding on the door of the house by the soldiers. We do not see them. We only see the family members running for cover. When they hear the breaking of the door, the camera is zooming on the close-up of family members’ faces. Mortal fear is written on their faces. This is a marvelous moment of cinematography and editing. The audience never sees the soldiers entering the house.
We frequently encounter close-up shots in the film. When the women march towards their death one after the other, camera is zooming on the faces of the women with full of anxieties. Face of Iragani Serasinghe, one of the women, has nothing but pride. She is proud to be retaining her honour before she jumps into her death. The camera focuses on the anxieties of other crying women as well.
What Sreekar Prasad says in general about editing makes a great deal of sense and applies very much to Gaadi.
“The selection of shots and their duration on screen is crucial to create the desired impact in the given scene. When you string various shots together while sustaining a certain emotional level you are invariably setting the momentum of the entire film. The more seamless a film appears the better it has been edited. When a performer is doing a fabulous job, you cannot interrupt him or her with cuts, even though you may have the option to do so. If an actor is fabulous in a long uninterrupted take, the editor should not intervene. The cardinal rule is to strike a balance between the narrative pace and the performance.
Eventually it all boils down to a good sense of judgement. For example, if a shot in a film has a girl crying you can keep it on for 10, 20 or even 40 seconds, but as an editor you should be able to gauge the film’s impact on the audience”.
Careful casting of the actors and actresses has positively contributed to the above depiction. Dinara Punchihewa’s debut into the film world as an actress is unique. In her role of Tikiri, she has the challenge of conveying complex human emotions mainly through face expressions. She truly embodies the transformation of her character from being stubborn and relentless to a compassionate and empathetic woman in the film. Sajitha Anuththara playing the role of Vijaya exudes an ebullient and captivating presence with an impish smile on his face and some antics when his character demands such behaviour. He tries his best to enchant Tikiri. But it takes him to the end of the film to break through the barrier to her heart. Ravindra Randeniya as Ehellapola Adigar establishes his overarching power within the short period of his acting in the film. He gives life to that character of authoritative aristocrat. Shyam Fernando as seemingly loving husband of Tikiri later discarding her for self-grandeur lithely demonstrates the transformation of his role.
When we step away from the storyline, we may start reflecting on some of the following questions.
What is identity? How is this concept being interpreted and misused over the years in theory and practice? How do we understand identities claimed by the diverse communities living in Sri Lanka or elsewhere? To what extent should we treat identity as an important social phenomenon? How do we deal with the question of integration of diverse identities (forced in certain cases) to supposedly create a common identity? What is the connection between pluralism and identity? How does question of identity play in the societal and inter-personal human relations? How do we understand nationalism and identity in a class society?
This film does not directly raise these questions. It does not also provide any answers and there is no need for it. However, the film provides the space and inspiration to reflect on those questions.
Representing the Sportsperson: Television Advertisements and the Evolution of Sports Discourse in India, by Sonal Jha
Sexual Nationalism, Masculinity and the Cultural Politics of Cricket in Bangladesh, by Adnan Hossain
‘An Evil Thing’: Gandhi and Indian Indentured Labour in South Africa, 1893–1914, by Goolam Vahed
Nehru’s Non-Alignment Dilemma: Tibetan Refugees in India, by Ria Kapoor
‘To Shock the Conscience’: Rhetoric in Death Penalty Judgements of the Supreme Court of India, by Rajgopal Saikumar
Priceless Enthusiasm: The Pursuit of Shauk in South Asia, by Kirin Narayan and Muhammad Kavesh
Special Section: Lankapura: Sri Lanka and the Ramayana in Historical Perspective
Guest Editors: Sree Padma and Justin Henry
Introduction. Lankapura: The Legacy of the Ramayana in Sri Lanka, by Sree Padma and Justin Henry
Articles
Explorations in the Transmission of the Ramayana in Sri Lanka, by Justin W. Henry
Borders Crossed: Vibhishana in the Ramayana and Beyond, by Sree Padma
Mapping Lanka’s Moral Boundaries: Representations of Socio-Political Difference in the Ravana Rajavaliya,by Jonathan Young and Philip Friedrich
Ravana’s Sri Lanka: Redefining the Sinhala Nation, by Dileepa Witharana
Reclaiming Ravana in Sri Lanka: Ravana’s Sinhala Buddhist Apotheosis and Tamil Responses, by Pathmanesan Sanmugeswaran, Krishantha Fedricks and Justin Henry
L’exposition des œuvres de V. P. Vasuhan a eu lieu du 1er au 27 septembre 2019 à la Galerie Impressions les mercredis de 18 à 21h et les samedis de 14 à 19h.
Le mois de septembre est propice aux retours des événements culturels et des expositions. La galerie Impressions inaugure cette rentrée avec un accrochage singulier intitulé « Visages de la baie du Bengale ». L’exposition propose le regard de deux peintres sur l’état du monde à travers leurs cultures respectives, l’un du Bengladesh et l’autre du Sri-Lanka, V. P. Vasuhan, qui fait l’objet de cette livraison.
