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I vividly remember the day when I stepped through the stone-arched gateway of MIT and entered the iconic main building with its grand dome. A shiver of excitement ran through my spine. I wandered from hall to hall, pausing in awe before the name plaques of world-renowned professors. Visiting the MIT library, I immersed myself in the fragrance of countless books stacked neatly in their shelves.
At the computing center, I stood spellbound, gazing at rows of computers of various models and sizes humming in activity. Could it be that my destiny was already inscribed, even during my days of learning the alphabet from my mother on the blackboard of the Government School in the village of Morahela, Sri Lanka? These experiences would inspiring me to reach even greater heights.
My deep passion for learning and hard work enabled me to excel in the PhD qualification exam, a feat that brought immense joy to my parents, older brother, and academic mentors. I then began my research for the doctoral studies, all the while diligently drafting my dissertation.
During this time, several notable events occurred. Elvis Presley passed away. As I was carrying out my doctoral research at MIT, I met a lecturer from Sri Lanka who studied for his PhD at Boston University. Since he did not have a vehicle, I offered my car for his use. One day, he invited me to his home (he was married) for dinner. There I met another Sri Lankan student who also worked on her PhD at Boston University. Her husband and child were still back in Sri Lanka. She asked me to help her with grocery shopping in my car while saying that I could be her protector.
I met a woman who had studied law at Harvard University, and she later invited me to a gathering at her apartment. There, her friends regarded me as her boyfriend, which left me feeling somewhat uneasy, as I was not. Several days later, she called me, but due to my hectic schedule, we couldn’t meet. Eventually, I attended a gathering that she had organized to celebrate her graduation. During this event, she introduced me to her boyfriend, a white American.
Boston is renowned for its educational institutions, with prestigious universities like MIT, Harvard, Boston University, Tufts, and Northeastern, as well as excellent university colleges being located in that area. Among them, Wellesley College stands out as a private institution for women, known for its elite education for daughters of wealthy families; I heard that Hillary Clinton, the wife of a US president, studied there. Its annual tuition could buy a modest house.
Many of my friends from MIT often attended parties held at Wellesley College over the weekends. One weekend I joined them. I was invited to a friend’s room at Wellesley College, where she inquired if I was interested in smoking marijuana. I explained that I did not indulge in smoking. In that room, there were five or six other men and women. After about an hour, everyone seemed to be under the influence of marijuana, and was dancing to music. Feeling out of place, I slipped away quietly.
Boston and Cambridge—twin cities in Massachusetts—hold a revered place in the history of the American Revolutionary War. Two towering figures, Benjamin Franklin and Paul Revere, lived in Boston in the 18th century. Franklin was not only a revolutionary leader but also a pioneering scientist, famous for revealing principles of electricity through his kite experiments. Revere, riding through the night, warned the townspeople that “the British are coming”—a call that echoed into legend. The house where he lived for over 30 years can still be visited today.
Another defining moment unfolded in Boston Harbor, prior to American independence, the Boston Tea Party. Rather than unloading tea from British ships (probably originating from Ceylon, now Sri Lanka), American workers (patriots) hurled the crates of tea into the water in defiance. The water turned brown because of that, and hence the term. Massachusetts is also the home state of the Kennedy family, including President John F. Kennedy.
Boston today is known for its famous universities, museums, music and theater, fine dining, and seafood. The Boston Common—founded in 1634 and spanning more than fifty acres—is the oldest public park in the United States. Getting around in Boston is easy and affordable on the subway, the first in the nation, built in 1897.
I had never faced a winter as harsh as Boston’s while attending MIT. From my ground-floor apartment, a few steps led to the front-yard gate and opening to Pearl Street. Each morning I listened to the news and weather on the radio before heading to campus. One day, a severe snowstorm struck. Because snowplows were in short supply in that unexpected situation, the city announced that only the main roads would be cleared first.
My front window, slightly above street level, looked out toward Pearl Street—but snow plastered the glass so completely that I could see nothing. When I tried to open the door, it would not budge. Nearly four feet of snow had fallen and blocked the entrance. It took a couple of days for workers to dig us out. I stayed indoors, fortunately with electricity, heating, a working phone in the apartment, and enough food in the refrigerator. In that unexpected solitude, I made remarkable progress on my PhD thesis. The storm, in a way, became a blessing.
Two years into my MIT program, I stood at the threshold of completing my doctorate. My research advisor, Professor David Wormley, advised me not to remain at MIT after graduation. Securing a position at the same institution, he cautioned, could narrow my horizons—and in any case would be rare. I agreed. Before my final thesis defense, I applied for faculty positions across the country.
The invitations soon came, each with airfare, hotel, meals, and local transport covered. A typical visit included a seminar by me on my research followed by questions from faculty and students, discussions with senior professors and graduate students, laboratory and computing center tours, and meetings with the department head and the dean. Lunch was on campus; dinner was hosted at a notable restaurant in the city, with some members of the interview panel attending.
I applied to several universities in California, Florida, Texas, Illinois, Michigan, and Pennsylvania and was called for interviews with them. About two weeks after an interview, I would receive a phone call from the department head. Receiving such a call usually brought good news. During the call, we would discuss the salary and research support offered by the university, before making a final decision. If the decision was not in my favor, the notification would come in the form of a letter, not a phone call.
In fact, receiving a phone call quickly after the interview was an indication of their strong interest in me. It was customary to send a thank-you note to the department head immediately after returning from the interview. If I were unwilling to accept the position, I would have to convey that in a thank-you letter, not over the phone. I had several offers. The highest salary offer was from Texas A & M University. The lowest offer was from Carnegie Mellon University (CMU) in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
There was a personal connection with CMU: Professor Arthur Murphy, the Head of the Department of Mechanical Engineering at Carnegie Mellon University, was a friend of my supervisor, Professor David Wormley. In fact, Professor Murphy visited MIT and interviewed me in person. Then he invited me to visit CMU. About a week after the visit, I received a phone message from Professor Murphy. His call was full of positive news. We discussed the salary and research support.
Even though salary from CMU was somewhat lower than what other institutions had offered, it did not matter. It was still three times what I had earned as a student. I consulted Professor Wormley, who advised me to accept the position at CMU. He was quite right, in hindsight. My decision to accept the offer for a position of Assistant Professor of Mechanical Engineering at CMU was highlighted by the strong reputation of CMU for engineering and computer science.
I sold what I could, gave many larger items to Ramu, packed the rest into my Ford Pinto, and set off from Boston to Pittsburgh. My friends—Amir, an Iranian-American, and David, a Chinese-American—helped me immensely with the move. I was so grateful to them.
During much of my life, I had been a student. Although I worked for a few years as an engineer and a visiting lecturer in Sri Lanka, it was now time to leave behind student life and enter the life of a university professor and researcher. This change allowed me to reflect on my professional journey from the perspective of someone on the other side of academia. As a student, one usually views the life of a professor with marvel and admiration, but as I embarked on this new phase of my career, there was some discomfort in letting go of the identity of a student. However, the time had come to face this new challenges and inevitable reality of academic life. In making my dream a reality, I should face it with resolve and resilience, I thought.
Pittsburgh lies southwest of Boston and slightly north of Cincinnati—about a two-day drive from Boston. So, I decided to drive my Ford Pinto, spend the night in New York City, and head for Pittsburgh the following day. This marked my second visit to the City of New York (NYC), called the Big Apple. This time I stayed in a modest hotel, without troubling a friend as we did in the previous time.
After checking in to the hotel, I took a bath, changed clothes, left the car behind, and took the subway to explore the city. In fact, it was the borough of Manhattan that I visited, the other four boroughs of NYC being Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island, and the Bronx. As I was hungry, after a short walk in Manhattan, I stumbled upon a pizzeria and ordered a small pizza and a cold drink. The drink arrived first, and fifteen minutes later the “small” pizza appeared—large enough for three. I ate half, boxed the rest, and took it back to my hotel on the subway, planning to eat it later in the night. After hearing this episode, a friend joked it was a miracle that my life was spared as I carried a pizza in New York subway late at night.
By the time I reached Pittsburgh the next day, it was evening. The previous time when I visited Pittsburgh for the job interview, I had arrived by airplane and stayed at the “University Inn” near Carnegie Mellon University. However, when I arrived this time without booking a hotel room, I found that it was fully booked. I then stayed at a nearby hotel called “Howard Johnson,” and on the following day successfully found a permanent apartment to live in from newspaper listings.
Two major universities, Carnegie Mellon and University of Pittsburgh, are located close to each other in Pittsburgh. Although the university campuses are considered to be in the City of Pittsburgh, they are actually located in the District of Oakland, just outside downtown. A large portion of the students and university staff lived outside Oakland. Because of increased cost and congestion, it was difficult to find low-cost and safe accommodation near the university.
My single-bedroom apartment was located at a considerable distance away from Carnegie Mellon campus, in an area known as Green Tree, roughly an hour’s drive. My apartment was in a modern building with excellent facilities. The bathroom, bedroom, dining area with kitchen, and living room were well-planned. It had central heating and cooling, which allowed me to maintain the desired temperature throughout the apartment, while turning the system down when I was away.
The kitchen was equipped with a modern gas stove. However, as there was no furniture, I bought a large bed, a dining table with four chairs, living room furniture, a television, and a music system. As I spent all the money that I had for this purchase, I had to take a loan from my first month’s salary for food and other needs. Thankfully, my small reliable car kept the expenses manageable.
Forty Years After the Kantale Tank Disaster, Sri Lanka Still Awaits a Dam Safety Regulator
Appointment to the National Salaries Commission and many others adding to already heavy work load
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In the latter half of October, when autumn sets the New England countryside ablaze with colour, our tranquil neighbourhood slips into the guise of a forgotten graveyard. Crumbling tombstones lean among the lawns; skeletons and scattered bones rise from the earth; and quiet houses seem long abandoned by their former occupants, sorcerers, and witches. So, the country prepares itself for the yearly celebration of Halloween.
The roots of this haunting season reach back to Samhain, the Celtic harvest festival celebrated at the end of October to mark the turning of the year, when the old gave way to the new. It was believed to be a threshold between the worlds of the living and the dead, a night when spirits wandered the earth, departed souls drifted home to their familiar hearths, and those who had passed during the year set out for the otherworld. In the 8th century, Pope Gregory III set aside November 1 as All Saints’ Day to honour saints and martyrs. The night before became All Hallows’ Eve, softened over time into Halloween, carrying with it echoes of Samhain’s ancient customs. In the 19th century, Irish and Scottish immigrants carried these traditions across the sea to North America, where they blossomed into trick-or-treating, carved pumpkins, and costume parties. By the late 20th century, America’s influence had scattered these customs like autumn leaves across the world.
Today, Halloween is a massive commercial industry in the United States, generating about $13.5 billion in consumer spending on costumes, decorations, and, most prominently, candy. In American parlance, these are confectioneries or sweets given away in copious quantities to children of all ages, who dress in various costumes and go from door to door to collect their loot threatening to trick if not treated.
Long before the candy, however, there were soul cakes. On All Hallows’ Eve, the poor wandered from door to door in Britain and Ireland, trading prayers for the dead in return for small, spiced loaves. In Scotland and Ireland, children wrapped themselves in masks and borrowed shadows, a disguise against restless spirits, singing songs and reciting verses for a modest reward. From these lantern-lit rounds, trick-or-treating was born.
For kids and adults alike, the costumes remain the best part of the tradition. Traditional spooky choices such as ghosts, skeletons, witches, vampires, werewolves, zombies, mummies, and devils once dominated, but modern themes have steadily gained ground, including pop culture characters, occupations, parodies of public figures, and pets. This year, my five year old granddaughter wants to dress as a ghost.
I still marvel at this cultural divide. When I was five years old, the mere word ghost would have been enough to strike absolute terror into my mind. For us in Sri Lanka, ghosts were not an amusement; they were terrifyingly real. We understood them to be the restless spirits of the dead, called prethayo (hungry ghosts), who lingered among the living, unable to move on. They were believed to haunt lonely roads, old trees, wells, and cemeteries after dark, bringing sickness, misfortune, or madness to anyone who crossed their path. Families guarded against them with protective charms, chants, and, when all else failed, an exorcism ceremony known as a thovil . As children, we learned early never to whistle at night or walk alone past the graveyard.
Encounters with such entities were treated as everyday occurrences. Some people are naturally more susceptible than others, and my maternal uncle was one of them. One evening, he came to visit us and stayed for dinner. Afterwards, my grandfather asked my cousin Tilak and me to escort him home. Mind you, Tilak and I were twelve and ten years old, respectively, while my uncle was in his early thirties. We lit a candle, stuck it inside a coconut shell to protect it from the wind, and walked with him to his house in the next village.
The next morning, word reached us that he was running a high fever and was completely delirious. The path to his house ran through paddy fields, a meadow dotted with scrub and a stream, and a rubber plantation. Aside from our own village cluster, there were no other houses along the way. Apparently, as we passed through the meadow the previous night, he had sensed a white elephant following right behind us. Not wanting to frighten us, he had kept quiet. The irony, of course, was that the last time a wild elephant, white or otherwise, had roamed our neighbourhood, which lay a mere six kilometers from Eheliyagoda town, was a couple of hundred years prior. Ultimately, the village kattandiya (traditional healer) had to intervene to restore my uncle’s health.
Tilak and I shared a wonderful childhood growing up together—one that could easily put Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn to shame. On one occasion, we went to a matinee movie in town, missed the last bus home, and had to walk back in the dark. In those days, long stretches of the road had no houses at all, and vehicular traffic after dark was virtually nonexistent. There was one specific corner where a man had died in an accident, and numerous passersby had reportedly encountered his ghost. When we reached this ominous spot, we were paralyzed with fear. It was common knowledge that reciting a specific gatha (verse) would ward off spirits, but we had also heard of another, more desperate countermeasure: total nudity. Desperate times call for desperate measures. We shed our pants, ran past the haunted corner at a dead sprint, reciting the protective gatha at the top of our lungs. As luck would have it, a neighbour sent out to look for us arrived on a bicycle precisely at that moment. Needless to say, we were village news for quite some time.
Belief in ghosts, spirits, and supernatural entities remains deeply woven into the cultural and social fabric of Sri Lanka. While modernisation, urbanisation, and education have influenced how people approach these topics, particularly in urban centers, traditional beliefs retain a tenacious hold across communities and generations. The Sri Lankan perspective on the supernatural is unique because it is largely shaped by an amalgam of indigenous folk traditions, ancient demonology, and popular, often distorted interpretations of Buddhist and Hindu cosmology.
When I was sixteen, my beloved grandmother passed away. I remember reasoning with myself that encountering her spirit, if such a thing were possible, would be a comforting and wonderful experience. How could the spirit of a genuinely kind and caring person do any harm? Later, as I studied the Buddha Dhamma and came to understand that all phenomena are mental constructs ( Dhammapada , verse 1), a principle further affirmed by modern neuroscience and psychology, I realised the true meaning of the Sinhala word holmana : ghosts are nothing more than the creations of an unsettled mind. It took time and deliberate effort to break away from inherited cultural conditioning.
Witnessing how children in the West learn to relate to ghosts, goblins, and ghouls as harmless amusement and growing up into adults capable of critical, empirical thought, often leaves me reflecting on the environment that shaped my own youth. How many bogus, debilitating superstitions and habits do we instill in Sri Lankan children, silently stunting their intellectual and emotional growth? It is sobering to recognise how such a misguided upbringing can distort the national psyche and impede the broader advancement of an entire nation.
It is heartening that younger or more urbanised Sri Lankans occasionally dismiss these practices as mere folklore, yet the psychological and emotional resonance of the occult remains formidable. Do we ever step back to ask whether beliefs such as avathara (ghosts), yaksha and butha (malevolent non-human entities), the evil eye ( As-waha ) and evil mouth ( Kata-waha ), Bali – thovil (exorcism ceremonies), hooniyam (black magic and spells), and countless others can withstand rational scrutiny against modern knowledge? Rarely, because they are routinely shielded under the banner of “treasured heritage”. No matter the toll it takes on intellectual progress, we are told we must preserve tradition. Let the rest of the world race into the age of artificial intelligence and beyond; we seem content to remain right where we were when King Vijaya first landed on the island.
What makes this even more troubling is that those entrusted with our intellectual and spiritual enlightenment have not only failed to guide us out of the dark but frequently champion these very practices. The Buddha Dhamma was designed as a clear path to perceive ultimate reality, yet we have largely missed its profound value. The educated elite, intellectuals, and wise figures, perhaps all oxymorons, among both clergy and laity remain largely silent. My sincere apologies to the handful of courageous individuals who risk their reputation and safety to oppose this collective lunacy, but of what use is an education if it fails to eradicate ignorance? Ignorance, after all, remains far more damaging than the most potent hooniyam in Sri Lanka.
Continue Reading Features Started Early, Took My Dog Published
I had so enjoyed the first novel by Kate Atkinson about Jackson Brodie that I promptly got another. The first seemed to pay homage to Agatha Christie, whereas this one, Started Early, Took My Dog, deals with rogue police officers. It does not follow the familiar pattern of Ian Rankin’s crooked cops, but instead explores a cover-up in which evidence is ruthlessly disposed of, with the same ruthlessness directed at those investigating what happened many years later.
The novel moves between different periods, beginning in the mid-1970s, when a new police recruit in Leeds, Tracy Waterhouse, and her more senior colleague go to a block of flats after a foul smell is reported coming from a flat on the 15th floor, at number 25. They have to climb the stairs because the lift is out of order. When Arkwright looks through the letterbox, he sees a child. He breaks down the door and takes the child away, calling for reinforcements because there is evidently a body in another room that has apparently been dead for weeks.
The scene then shifts to Munich, a few months before the modern-day story opens, where Brodie and a companion are looking for an abducted little girl.
The narrative then moves to a shopping complex, where Tracy, now retired, works in security. There is plenty of action, beginning with an old woman who appears lost. Tracy then sees a prostitute she recognises leading a little child along. Feeling sorry for the child, she offers Kelly three thousand pounds for her, having withdrawn the money to pay for repairs to her house. Tracy then looks after the child for nearly 500 pages, dreading the possibility that Kelly will demand the child back or that she herself will be arrested for abduction.
We subsequently learn that the old woman is an actress whose mind is failing. Jackson helps her find shelter with the security staff. He also picks up an abused dog in the park, which accompanies him for the rest of the book and is smuggled into the hotel rooms where he stays.
Brodie is in Leeds to investigate the background of a woman in New Zealand who, following the death of her adoptive mother, wants to discover her biological origins. However, the adoption counsellor in Leeds, whom Hope McMaster has directed him to, misses their appointment. Brodie spends the rest of the afternoon wandering around and reliving his own tragic past. His mother has died, his sister has been murdered, and his brother has committed suicide.
Meanwhile, he discovers that the people identified as Hope’s birth parents apparently never existed and that no birth certificate can be found. Back home with Courtney, Tracy discovers that Linda Pallister, the counsellor, has tried to contact her. Unable to reach Linda immediately, Tracy eventually calls back and contacts an old colleague, Barry Crawford. She tells him that Linda has asked her about Carol Braithwaite, the woman found murdered in 1975. Barry pretends not to remember her and wonders why Linda has called. Tracy suggests that Linda may be about to reveal the truth about the child. In the next section, we learn that Linda has contacted Barry to tell him that a private detective named Jackson has asked her about Lovell Park, where the murder took place.
We then learn that Tracy had tried to find out more about the child she rescued from the flat but had come up against a stone wall. Barry, however, senses that something is wrong and recalls his senior colleagues: DCs Walter Eastman, Ray Strickland, Rex Marshall and Len Lomax. Eastman has long been dead, and Rex Marshall has also played his last round of golf. Barry’s role in the affair reaches its climax at Marshall’s funeral.
After this intriguing beginning, the novel moves from one sensation to another. There are more dead prostitutes, and Kelly is murdered. Tracy also encounters another youngster while trying to discover Kelly’s whereabouts. She is directed to the house where she finds Kelly dead. Although she has left the scene, her DNA is found there.
Tracy goes into hiding, first travelling to a holiday cottage she has rented after visiting a criminal who has agreed to provide her and Courtney with new passports.
Meanwhile, Jackson Brodie continues his investigation. Although Linda avoids him the following day as well, he finds a photograph in her drawer that matches the one Hope has sent him. Discovering that the murder has scarcely been reported, he decides to track down the journalist who wrote the original account. He finds her in Whitby, an ageing alcoholic who writes thrillers and has retired to the town after failing to make it big in London. Although she is guarded in what she says, Brodie realises that she has been threatened into keeping quiet about the affair. There have also been restraining orders, supposedly to protect the child.
It then emerges that the child was a boy who had been locked inside the flat for about three weeks with the body of his dead mother. The journalist also mentions that she was interviewed earlier that day by another man claiming to be a private detective. Brodie recalls that this is the man who gave him a lift after he lost his car on the way to Whitby. He realises that the other detective is investigating the same mystery and must be the man Linda Pallister saw on the morning she missed her first appointment with him.
Brodie lost his car because Tracy stole it. The morning after finding Kelly dead, she saw policemen approaching her house and escaped through the back door into the garage, where her car was kept. She then sped out of town. On a country road, she collided with a deer. Just as she decided to continue on foot, a car appeared. Realising that it was the vehicle that had been following her, she plunged into the undergrowth. When she emerged with the child, she nearly got run over by Brodie’s car.
After Brodie rescues Tracy and Courtney, they stop at a garage to use the toilet. Two thugs then turn up and attack Brodie and Tracy separately. Tracy strikes one of them with the bag in which she carries a gun, gets to the car and tells Brodie to drive off.
Tracy then asks for another pit stop and suggests that Brodie take the dog for a walk. While he is doing so, she jumps into the car and drives away. She goes to the holiday cottage she has rented. The next morning, the other Jackson turns up because he has placed a tracker on Brodie’s dog. Brodie notices the tracker and removes it but leaves it in the car, enabling the other Jackson to locate Tracy and finally speak to her. He tells her that he is looking for Michael Braithwaite, the little boy whom Tracy helped rescue from the flat, only for him to disappear.
At the same time, Brodie returns to the journalist after a horrendous night during which the two thugs from the garage attack him, bind and gag him, and put him in a rubbish bin. His dog barks incessantly as the bins are loaded onto a lorry, and Brodie is rescued. While having breakfast, he recalls his adventure in Munich, where he had been looking for two children. The journalist then tells him that Carol Braithwaite had two children.
The other Jackson takes Tracy to the man who provides her with a new passport and then to the railway station. Brodie also arrives there and finds Tracy being attacked by the now-retired Lomax. Tilly, however, appears and assumes that Lomax is after the little girl. She wrestles with him, and they both fall onto the tracks as a train comes in.
The central mystery is finally resolved. Lomax killed Carol Braithwaite because she had repeatedly provoked him, not least by confronting him about their daughter. He then called on Eastman for help. Eastman sent his colleague Rex Strickland to collect the girl and hand her over to a doctor, who took the child to New Zealand.
Lomax had not mentioned the other child, and Strickland missed him. That explains why the boy was left in the flat. He survived the trauma and is now a middle-aged man living comfortably, but he has hired the other Jackson to discover his origins. When he emerged from the flat, he had said that his daddy had killed his mother and had asked after his sister, but he subsequently forgot these events. At the end of the story, he is on his way to New Zealand to meet her.
The two Jacksons have thus satisfactorily resolved the mysteries they were asked to investigate. There is, however, another twist. Barry had once driven Strickland to the flat, although nothing had happened on that occasion. Later, when ordered by Eastman, he drove Strickland to collect the child. Barry therefore assumed that Strickland was the killer and arrested him at Rex Marshall’s funeral. Barry then shoots himself. He has lived in misery since his daughter was left in a vegetative state following a car crash caused by her husband driving under the influence of alcohol. The husband subsequently walked out on a meal her parents had arranged for them, and Barry’s grandson had also been killed.
Barry smothers his daughter in her hospital bed and then greets his son-in-law, whose sentence for drunk driving has ended. In this novel of false trails, he finally shoots himself.
The novel is full of tragic life stories, with Brodie endlessly regretting the chain of events that led to his sister’s murder and his brother’s suicide. Even more tragic, however, is Tilly’s story, involving an evil genius in the form of a fellow actress. Tilly deceives herself into believing that a Black man working for an embassy, with whom she had slept, had abandoned her.
He had promised to return the following evening but failed to do so. Tilly assumed that he had abandoned her. When she discovered that she was pregnant, she was persuaded to terminate the pregnancy. Later, however, her friend told her that the man had been unable to find the flat and had asked for help, only to be told that Tilly was no longer interested in him.
Tilly’s regrets about the man and the child haunt the sections dealing with her, even as we see her becoming increasingly confused. This explains why she is horrified by Kelly’s treatment of Courtney and why she says, as Brodie recalls, “Someone should do something”. That is why she finally acts, falling to her death with Lomax, the villain of the piece. Her friend subsequently delivers a eulogy at a church in Covent Garden, recalling anecdotes about Tilly’s younger days.
Lomax has not figured prominently in the rest of the novel, appearing mainly as part of the chorus of pompous senior police officers. Yet he is the man who sets the two thugs on Tracy and Brodie. The thugs are also at the station, where they have been waiting to carry out his dirty work. They disappear as soon as they see him fall to his death.
Tilly is thus a deus ex machina, and given the vivid description of her deteriorating mind and the bleak future she faces when she can no longer act, her death may seem like a release from further suffering. Her life, however, remains immeasurably poignant. Unlike Brodie and Tracy, she can never experience an epiphany that would allow her to come to terms with her past.
Continue Reading Features Protecting Sacred city of Anuradhapura Published
Buddhism was first introduced to Sri Lanka in Anuradhapura in 3rd century BCE by Arahant Mahinda, the son of the Indian Emperor Asoka. For nearly 1500 years, Anuradhapura remained the capital of Sri Lanka and the intellectual and spiritual centre of Theravada Buddhism in Asia. The Anuradhapura civilisation achieved unmatched advances in architecture, engineering and urban planning, still evident in its monumental stupas, monasteries, palaces and sophisticated hydraulic and agricultural systems.
Buddhism was gradually assimilated into Hinduism and had disappeared from India by the 12th century CE. The Chola invasion from India and the sacking and conquest in 1017 CE dealt a heavy blow to Buddhist civilisation, ending Anuradhapura’s role as the island’s political capital. The sacred city has continued to face attacks, including the LTTE massacre of 146 devotees at the Sri Maha Bodhi on Vesak full moon, 14 May 1985. Yet Anuradhapura has survived as one of the world’s oldest continuously inhabited cities and as a sacred site that has attracted Buddhist pilgrims over the centuries.
In the late 19th century, British colonial authorities initiated archaeological surveys and restoration projects in Anuradhapura, with the assistance of Sri Lankan Buddhist monks such as Ven. Naranwita Sumanasara. In the spirit of the 1964 Venice Charter, which emphasises the preservation of cultural heritage in historical conservation, UNESCO identified Anuradhapura as a World Heritage Site in 1982, recognising it as a sacred city and “a living testament to its outstanding universal value and cultural legacy.”
Anuradhapura is a vibrant Buddhist pilgrimage site today, home to extensive sites including the famous Samadhi Buddha statute that former Indian Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru described as a representation of the Buddha’s message of peace and tranquility in a world ridden with conflict. Anuradhapura is also the home to the Eight Sacred Sites, known as the Atamasthana . These include the Sri Maha Bodhi, considered the oldest tree in the world and the direct descendant of the original Bodhi tree under which the Buddha attained enlightenment, and the magnificent Ruwanweli Maha Seya (Great Stupa), which enshrines Buddha relics and was built by King Dutugemunu following his defeat of a Chola invader, king Elara around 161 BCE.
As the number of pilgrims and tourists visiting Anuradhapura continues to grow, essential services need significant improvement. These include clean, accessible public toilets; drinking water and rest areas; waste collection and sanitation; transportation; and accommodation.
In 2021, during the tenure of the previous Sri Lankan government, the Urban Development Authority (UDA) published a detailed Anuradhapura Urban Area Development Plan, 2021–2030 , based on the vision of the city as “the Buddhist Heritage Capital of the World.” The 2021 plan committed to a “participatory planning approach” involving citizens and active working parties in the private and institutional sectors.
Following the change of government in 2024, a new Updated Anuradhapura Sacred Area Development Plan was gazetted by the current Sri Lankan government on 27 February 2026. The plan came to light only after media outlets reported that it had been submitted to the Indian Embassy in Colombo on 1 October 2026.
The 2026 Development Plan has raised considerable alarm in the country because it fails to recognise Anuradhapura as a place of ongoing worship, involving daily rituals, offerings, chanting and meditation by thousands of devoted pilgrims. In an interview published in Times of Lanka on October 22, 2026, archaeologist and heritage-management specialist Dr. Gamini Wijesuriya points out that the Plan approaches Anuradhapura as a “static archaeological park or a tourist reserve,” rather than as a “living heritage site” with “Outstanding Universal Value,” as designated by UNESCO.
Item 5.1 of the 2026 Plan proposes erecting a security fence around the Ruwanwelisaya, along with six physical entrance checkpoints or gates to the sacred area. Dr. Wijesuriya and other analysts fear this would turn “sacred movement into a bureaucratised inspection line,” creating “physical and emotional barriers between pilgrims, monks, and the sacred stupas” and undermining Anuradhapura’s historically open, welcoming and peaceful character.
Schedule 02 of the 2026 Plan legalises commercial activities within sensitive areas, permitting commercial guest houses, retail shops, vehicle-repair garages and cattle sheds. This would destroy the quiet, contemplative atmosphere of the sacred city. Revealing its lack of understanding of “living heritage,” item 2.4 of the Plan mandates the removal and relocation of long-term residents and traditional local families, including hereditary temple caretakers and service communities living in areas designated as “sensitive.” The priority given to commercial and tourist expansion poses a danger to Anuradhapura’s continued role as the foremost place of worship for local Buddhists.
The 2026 Development Plan seeks to expand the Anuradhapura development zone from approximately 20 square kilometers to 38 square kilometers, incorporating “more sacred shrines and places of archaeological value in the new extended sacred ground area.” The leader of the Patriotic National Movement, Dr. Wasantha Bandara has pointed out that this would allow two Hindu shrines within the expanded Anuradhapura sacred area to be included in the development plans. This would would undermine Anuradhapura’s uniquely Buddhist identity. This concern must be understood in the broader historical context of Indo-Sri Lankan relations and contemporary geopolitical rivalry.
Historical and geopolitical context
Funding for the Anuradhapura Sacred City Development Plan, costing Rs 7.7 billion, is to be provided by the Government of India. When Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi visited Anuradhapura during an official visit in April 2025, he agreed to provide assistance for a Sacred City development project. The gazetted Plan was therefore submitted to the Indian Embassy in Colombo on 1 October 2026 without adequate consultation with the Buddhist monks of the Atamasthana or other local stakeholders. In a great hurry to receive Indian funding, the Sri Lankan President is seeking to expedite the project, with work due to begin before the end of 2026.
Despite its extensive influence over Sri Lanka and claims to support Buddhism, India has not taken meaningful steps to protect Buddhist temples and archaeological sites in Sri Lanka’s north and east from attacks by ethno-religious separatist groups. Instead, India under Prime Minister Modi appears focused on advancing the concepts of Akhand Bharat (Undivided India) and Hindu Rashtra (Hindu Nation), which would incorporate neighboring countries such as Sri Lanka into a “Greater India.”
The Ramayana Trail in Sri Lanka, associated with the Ramayana, is based on myth and lacks historical evidence. Yet this tourist venture, initiated by the large neighbouring country and planning to develop fifty Ramayana landmarks and shrines across Sri Lanka, poses a serious threat to Sri Lanka’s Buddhist identity. The possible future development of the Hindu shrines in Anuradhapura, mentioned earlier, as part of the Ramayana Trail could result in a massive influx of Indian Hindu tourists and religious practices, overwhelming the Buddhist atmosphere of the sacred city. Sri Lanka’s Buddhist sites, including Anuradhapura, have always been open and welcoming to visitors of all faiths. However, deliberate efforts to undermine Buddhist heritage will only deepen the historical struggle to protect the Buddhist identity of Sri Lanka, and of Anuradhapura in particular.
India’s involvement in Sri Lanka’s domestic affairs, including the development of the Anuradhapura sacred city, goes far beyond the spheres of culture and identity. India has wielded political and military power over Sri Lanka in both the pre-colonial and post-colonial eras. Yet, in the period immediately following the 2022 economic crisis, Sri Lanka has sacrificed its sovereignty by succumbing to political pressure and economic handouts from India.
According to reports in the Indian media, during Prime Minister Modi’s visit to Sri Lanka from 4 to 6 April 2025, seven to ten agreements were signed to strengthen ties in defense, electricity-grid interconnection, a multi-product petroleum pipeline, digital transformation and pharmacopoeial practices. The agreements were signed using the Sri Lankan President’s powers, without debate or approval by the Sri Lankan Parliament. The agreements are so shrouded in secrecy that neither the Sri Lankan public nor the media knows how many pacts were made, what their full contents are, or whether the documents signed are legally binding agreements or merely memoranda of understanding (MOUs), which can be revoked.
The five-year Indo-Lanka Defense Cooperation Agreement is intended to ensure that Sri Lankan territory will not be used in any way that could threaten India’s national security interests. It formally guarantees that Sri Lanka will not allow any third power to use its soil against India.
India is a member of the Quadrilateral Security Dialogue (QUAD), a strategic alliance against Chinese expansion that includes the United States, Australia and Japan. Sri Lankan analysts are concerned that the defence agreement with India creates a very real danger of Sri Lanka being drawn into the QUAD through the back door, as a subordinate of India. The United States and its QUAD partner India, as well as China and other powerful countries, want control over Sri Lanka because of its strategic location on the Indian Ocean’s maritime trade routes.
What we see today is not the emergence of a truly multipolar and just international order, but continued imperialist expansion, aided by local collaboration and prioritising short-term profit and self-interest over collective welfare. This leads to environmental, social and cultural destruction. Efforts to undermine the Buddhist identity of the sacred city of Anuradhapura are part of a broader effort to weaken Sinhala Buddhist national identity, consciousness and political power.
Breaking free from relations of domination and subordination requires fundamentally asserting local economic, political and cultural sovereignty. It calls on people everywhere to wake up, stand up for their rights, speak up and uplift one another through non-violent resistance. People in Sri Lanka who are rising to protect their culture and the sacred city of Anuradhapura are doing just that.
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