From Graph Paper to Global Operating Systems: The Untold Story of Sinhala Unicode

Official letter of appreciation from Mr Asmus Freytag, Vice President of the Unicode Consortium (dated 17 March 2000), acknowledging Sri Lanka's crucial contribution to the publication of The Unicode Standard, Version 3.0 and ISO/IEC 10646-1:2000.

Today, whether you are typing a message on a smartphone, reading the news online, or searching the web, your device comes pre-equipped with native Sinhala support. It is a seamless, everyday experience. Yet the road to securing digital sovereignty for our Sinhala script—a complex writing system with an extensive vowel set and intricate consonants—was incredibly long and arduous, and it began well before most can imagine.

Recently, I found myself looking back at a letter of appreciation I received from Asmus Freytag, Vice President of the Unicode Consortium, dated 17 March 2000—a recognition presented exclusively to me as Sri Lanka's national member—which accompanied a presentation copy of The Unicode Standard, Version 3.0. While that letter marks a defining milestone at the turn of the millennium, the true story began back in 1982, when 'Sinhala Language in Computing' did not even exist as a concept.

Building from Absolute Zero

When I began pioneering this work at the Institute of Computer Technology (ICT) at the University of Colombo in the mid-1980s, there was not a single digital Sinhala font in the world. I had to build every building block from absolute zero.

The process was painstakingly manual. It involved hand-drawing individual characters on standard graph sheets, designing precise symbols, converting them to hexadecimal, and writing low-level 8086 Assembly code. This exhausting groundwork continued for years, eventually culminating in the development of SBIOS (Sinhala BIOS) and TBIOS (Tamil BIOS). These were designed to handle scripts at the hardware interrupt level, functioning as 20KB of additional kernel programmes that stayed resident in memory and cleanly returned to the DOS prompt.

With the foundational architecture in place, I went on to develop pioneering application software systems: WadanTharuwa for word processing, Athwela for desktop publishing, and Sarasavi, a double-byte character code system tailored for multilingual environments.

Defending Our Digital Heritage

The journey to international standardisation was far from smooth. When third-party proposals in Unicode 1.0 introduced a flawed Sinhala code page that severely distorted our traditional alphabetical order and orthography, we needed to intervene immediately.

The late Professor V K Samaranayake, as Chairman of CINTEC, took swift action through the Sri Lanka Standards Institution (SLSI) to officially challenge and halt its adoption. What followed were years of rigorous committee work and technical submissions. As Sri Lanka's national delegate at ISO/IEC WG 2 international sessions in Singapore, Crete, Redmond, and London, I successfully defended our centuries-old traditional alphabetical order and character repertoire against the proposed distortions.

Mike Ksar (Hewlett-Packard, USA), Convener of ISO/IEC JTC 1/SC 2/WG 2, captured during the international session in Crete. Mike served as Convener throughout the entire Sinhala Unicode standardisation process, contributing significantly to its successful international adoption.

It was a relentless, decades-long battle, but by 1 July 1997, we had succeeded in this local implementation story. We had decisively proven that a standardised, linguistically correct digital Sinhala script was not just a theoretical concept, but a working reality.

Global Integration and the Microsoft Era

After the international ratification of the Sinhala Unicode block (U+0D80–U+0DFF) in Unicode Version 3.0 and ISO/IEC 10646-1:2000, the next crucial step was integrating it into global operating systems.

With Dr V S Umamaheswaran (IBM Canada), Recording Secretary for ISO/IEC JTC 1/SC 2/WG 2. Long before digital voice recorders existed, Dr Umamaheswaran famously acted as a 'human voice recorder'—meticulously capturing every word spoken across a room of more than 25 international delegates and delivering precise, immediate meeting minutes after every session.

I spent approximately three months at Microsoft Headquarters in Seattle, Washington, working directly alongside Microsoft’s Language Development Group. During this intensive period, I helped engineer native Sinhala script rendering and complex typography support directly into the Windows operating system. This collaboration led to the creation and integration of Iskoola Pota—the default Sinhala Unicode font that began shipping worldwide with Windows.

With Bruce Paterson (UK), Independent Editor for ISO/IEC 10646, during the Crete meeting. Reviewing technical details directly with the project editor was essential to providing the necessary clarifications for our Sinhala Language Proposal before its formal inclusion.

Reflecting on this monumental effort, Asmus Freytag wrote in his 2000 letter to me:

"We do believe that your support was crucial in making the publication of The Unicode Standard, Version 3.0 and ISO/IEC 10646-1:2000 possible..."

With Irish delegate Michael Everson (Everson Gunn Teoranta) at the Crete ISO session. Though he had initially contributed to a competing proposal, extensive technical debates and linguistic evidence convinced him to set his submission aside and fully endorse Sri Lanka’s traditional character repertoire and alphabetical ordering.

Looking back, it is deeply fulfilling to have spearheaded this campaign from an absolute void in 1982, to have worked directly on its global OS integration, and to have ultimately secured digital sovereignty for our native script in the modern digital era.

After the meeting, Relaxation Tour Around

In Greek mythology and Cretan history, the worship of Zeus on Crete traces back to the Minoan-Mycenaean era (around 1400–1200 BCE), which is indeed over 3,000 to 3,500 years ago.

Furthermore, the archaeological sites in and around Heraklion (such as the Palace of Knossos seen in your photographs) date back even further to the Minoan civilisation (c. 1900–1400 BCE), making those physical structures around 3,500 to 4,000 years old.

Exploring Heraklion's ancient archaeological ruins, associated with the birthplace and realm of the Cretan Zeus, balancing technical debates on script standardisation with more than three millennia of Mediterranean history.

Taking a moment of reflection near the ancient archaeological sites of Heraklion (Iraklion), Crete—a region whose heritage and mythology surrounding God Zeus date back over 3,500 years to the Minoan era—during a break from the intensive ISO/IEC WG 2 international session.

Exploring Heraklion's ancient archaeological ruins, associated with the birthplace and realm of the Cretan Zeus, balancing technical debates on script standardisation with more than three millennia of Mediterranean history.

Inside the archaeological museum, posing beside a towering ancient terracotta storage jar (pithos) adorned with intricate raised rope-pattern carvings. You are wearing a checked long-sleeved shirt, tailored trousers, and glasses, holding a museum guide

Examining a monumental ancient Minoan terracotta storage jar (pithos) inside the Heraklion Archaeological Museum during a cultural excursion in Crete.

     

Back in Athens after wrapping up the ISO/IEC WG 2 international session in Crete—taking a quiet moment at the hotel to reflect on the meeting's success and plan which classic landmarks to visit next before returning home.

A roadside moment of reflection on the streets of Athens, soaking in the city's historic atmosphere and deciding on the next landmark to visit.

A clear, sunlit view of the ancient Parthenon standing atop the rocky marble plateau of the Acropolis under a cloudless blue sky. Visitors and families stroll around the base, rest on the ancient bedrock, and admire the monumental Doric columns, with conservation scaffolding inside the cella.

Walking around the summit of the Acropolis in Athens: visitors exploring the historic Parthenon on 8 July 1997, shortly after the conclusion of the ISO/IEC WG 2 international session in Crete.

A low-angle shot framed by ancient stone blocks in the foreground, looking up at the temple's grand side facade and columns. The original date stamp at the bottom right reads 8 7 '97 (8 July 1997), capturing tourists exploring the site in the summer heat.

View looking up towards the Parthenon's grand colonnade from the ancient stone retaining walls, capturing a quiet moment of sightseeing across the Acropolis grounds.

A wider angle highlighting the full length of the Parthenon’s perimeter columns and frieze. Visitors line the hilltop path on the right near a red flag, taking in sweeping views over Athens from the citadel's high vantage point.

A panoramic view across the Acropolis hill, showcasing the Parthenon's enduring classical architecture as delegates and travellers explore the ancient Greek landmark.

 A dramatic wide-angle shot looking up the grand marble staircase of the Propylaea—the monumental gateway to the Acropolis in Athens. You are pictured ascending the ancient stone steps among other visitors, flanked by massive classical walls and marble columns undergoing conservation and restoration.

Standing before the iconic Ionic colonnade of the Erechtheion on the Acropolis hill, taking in the historical monuments of ancient Greece.

Ascending the historic marble steps of the Propylaea, the ancient entrance to the Acropolis in Athens, during a sightseeing tour following the ISO/IEC WG 2 summit.

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Standing in the foreground at the famous flag-raising Belvedere point on the eastern edge of the Acropolis, directly beneath a tall flagpole flying the Greek national flag. The Parthenon columns are visible in the background, with the original camera date stamp marking 6 July 1997.

Posed beneath the towering Greek national flag at the Acropolis lookout in Athens on 6 July 1997, with the Parthenon framed in the background.

"Just before our departure back home, we attended a memorable farewell dinner party featuring traditional Greek music and dance performances. Watching the graceful performances, I was vividly reminded of an article written by Professor J B Disanayaka—who accompanied me as part of the Sri Lankan delegation at the ISO meeting—titled 'සුරඟනන් වැනි වරඟනන් සිටි දිවයිනක් ඇත ග්‍රීසියේ' ('There is an island in Greece where celestial-like maidens lived'). It was a fitting, enchantingly cultural finale to an intense and victorious technical summit.

A dancer captured during the farewell banquet in Greece—a moment that brought to mind Prof. J. B. Disanayaka's memorable article on the trip, 'සුරඟනන් වැනි වරඟනන් සිටි දිවයිනක් ඇත ග්‍රීසියේ'.

Delegates and guests enjoying traditional Greek rhythm and dance at the farewell dinner party celebrating the conclusion of the ISO summit

A close-up from the evening's cultural performance, capturing Greece's rich hospitality and artistic tradition.

"With our mission accomplished and a landmark agreement secured for Sinhala Unicode, it was time for the final lap of the journey. Our generous Greek hosts accompanied Professor J B Disanayaka and me all the way to Athens Airport to bid us a warm farewell—a touchingly hospitable end to an intense, historic, and ultimately triumphant trip."

A warm farewell at Athens Airport: our generous Greek hosts and colleagues seeing off Professor J B Disanayaka and me prior to our return flight to Sri Lanka, marking the successful conclusion of our ISO summit.

Article and Images (c) Turrance Nandasara

Celebrating 24 Years of UCSC Excellence

UCSC Anniversary Tribute

“This is not just a celebration of UCSC—it’s a tribute to the hundreds of individuals who shaped its remarkable journey.” (Photo Archive Library (c) Turrance Nandasara)

A Legacy Rooted in History 

UCSC celebrates 24 years of excellence, but its true legacy spans more than 59 years of dedicated contributions to computing and education in Sri Lanka. From humble beginnings in the Mathematics Department, Statistical Unit, and Computer Centre, to the pioneering Department of Statistics and Computer Science and the visionary Institute of Computer Technology—each chapter laid the foundation for what became the fully fledged Department of Computer Science, with Statistics forming its own path and ICT continuing independently.

The Birth of UCSC

The final merger of ICT and DCS gave rise to UCSC, a centre of academic and technological innovation. Though these original entities are no longer visible within UCSC, their spirit lives on in every line of code, every lecture, and every breakthrough.

Honouring the Past, Inspiring the Future

As we honour the past, we also look ahead—with hope, ambition, and a commitment to shaping the future of computing for generations to come.

Building a Legacy: How a Lecture Hall Became a World-Class Auditorium at UCSC

By Turrance Nandasara

In 2017, I achieved a truly remarkable milestone for the University of Colombo School of Computing (UCSC) by personally undertaking the complete conceptual and technical design to transform a raw, multi-level lecture hall—just as originally planned in the building's architecture—into a state-of-the-art, 360-seater auditorium that stands proudly as one of the very best at the University of Colombo, built to meet the highest visual and acoustic standards in higher education.

A Vision Realised for the 50th Anniversary

The conversion was timed to perfection. Shortly after its inauguration in 2017, the newly established auditorium was put to its ultimate test during a historic milestone: the celebration of 50 Years of Computing History in Sri Lanka (1967–2017).

Grand stage performance inside the newly inaugurated UCSC Auditorium during the 50th Anniversary Celebrations (1967–2017)

Watching the stage come alive with vibrant cultural performances under brilliant, digitally controlled LED stage lighting—backed by a colossal 32-foot projection display—was an immensely rewarding moment. As traditional rhythms and music resonated flawlessly through the packed hall without distortion or echo delay, it confirmed that the technical vision had been achieved: a world-class platform capable of capturing the true soul, energy, and heartbeat of our institutional history.

Crafting the Perfect Acoustic and Visual Environment

Creating an exceptional auditorium requires far more than mounting speakers and hanging screens; it demands rigorous acoustic engineering and spatial planning. To ensure maximum comfort and optimum sound dynamics, plush floor carpeting and ergonomic modern seating were introduced throughout the 360-seat space.

The architectural walls were extensively re-engineered with specialized sound-controlled acoustic paneling. This precision acoustic treatment eliminated interior echo, suppressed external noise bleed, and delivered maximum acoustic fidelity to every seat in the audience.

Technical Infrastructure Highlights

• Projection Display: 32-foot auto-operated wide screen powered by a high-lumen wide short-throw Panasonic laser projector (direct import from the USA).

• Audio System: JBL line-array sound system, surround fill speakers, digital audio distributor, high-fidelity amplifiers, wired & wireless mic array.

• Broadcasting & Video: Blackmagic 4K four-camera system with a dedicated video mixer for live FHD recording to tape or disk.

• Lighting & Control: Centralized master control room managing a digitally operated LED stage lighting grid.

Engineering for Longevity and Excellence

A central pillar of the design philosophy was durability. The flagship short-throw Panasonic laser projector—the first of its kind imported directly to Sri Lanka from the United States—was engineered to deliver over 20 years of continuous service without requiring routine maintenance or replacement parts.

"Bringing this state-of-the-art auditorium to life—a space where staff and students can fully experience the profound benefits of cutting-edge digital technology, both visually and acoustically—remains one of my proudest achievements."

Sustaining the Legacy

Nearly a decade after its inauguration, the UCSC Auditorium stands just as pristine and capable as it did on day one in 2017. This enduring quality is a testament to the meticulous care and management provided by the staff of the Advanced Digital Media Technology Centre (ADMTC), under the guidance of the present Director, Dr Ajantha Athukorala.

Special gratitude is owed to former Director, Professor Hewagamage, whose steadfast support and vision made it possible to elevate this hall into a premier academic landmark. As the venue continues to host international conferences, cultural galas, and historic lectures, it remains a vibrant hub for the university community for generations to come.

The Sinhala Word Processor Race: A Look Back at 1994

 

The Sinhala Word Processor Race: A Look Back at 1994

As I continue to compile my personal archives for an upcoming memoir and comprehensive history of computing in Sri Lanka, I occasionally unearth documents that perfectly encapsulate the atmosphere of the early days of local tech development. One such treasure is a clipping from the March 1994 issue of INFOLINK magazine, featuring an article titled "Setting the Standard in Sinhala Word Processing."

Looking back at this page brings forth a vivid reminder of a highly competitive and innovative era in our technological landscape.

From Pharmacology to the UK and Back

The INFOLINK piece serves as a rather neat summary of my early career. It traces my beginnings at the University of Colombo's Department of Pharmacology as a Research Assistant, where early exposure to computing fundamentally shifted my career trajectory.

This newfound direction led me to the UK for higher studies at the University of Reading, a period of rigorous learning that prepared me for my return to Sri Lanka. Joining the Institute of Computer Technology (ICT) in 1987 under the guidance of Professor V.K. Samaranayake placed me right at the centre of a massive technological hurdle: localising the digital workspace.

Building from Scratch

Unlike other regional languages that had existing frameworks to adapt, Sinhala word processing had to be built from the ground up. The late 1980s and early 1990s saw numerous claims and intense competition—what the magazine aptly dubbed the "Sinhala Word Processor Race."

My contribution to this race, which began in 1989, was the development of Wadantharuwa (charmingly misspelt as "Wedanthura" in the publication).

The Technical Leap: An 8-Bit Sinhala BIOS

What truly set Wadantharuwa apart from other packages on the market was its underlying architecture. We took the decision to develop a bespoke Sinhala Basic Input Output System (BIOS).

• Memory-Resident Design: The Sinhala BIOS was a disk-based, 8-bit standard code that remained memory-resident once the computer booted.

• High Resolution: Despite being a remarkably compact 20 Kb programme, it achieved high character resolution, allowing users to easily differentiate Sinhala characters on both mono and VGA monitors.

• Seamless Transition: Crucially, once loaded, the operation was entirely free, allowing operators to switch seamlessly between Sinhala and English, mixing text within the same document.

Preserving the History

This clipping is more than just a personal milestone; it is a vital record of how the foundational architecture for local language computing was engineered in Sri Lanka. While this blog post offers a brief overview, I am currently expanding these notes into a full, comprehensive chapter for my forthcoming book, where I will delve much deeper into the technical challenges and the brilliant minds who drove this era forward.

From Punch Cards to Green Screens: My Front-Row Seat to the Computing Revolution

 We live in a digital world where we take infinite computation for granted. Today’s programmers can compile millions of lines of code in fractions of a second on a device that fits inside a coat pocket. But if you step back into the late 1970s and 1980s, computer science wasn't an intangible cloud utility—it was a deeply physical craft that required immense patience, mental discipline, and a bit of absolute faith.

My own trajectory across three countries—from Sri Lanka to the United Kingdom—offered me a front-row seat to the engine room of the digital age. This is the story of how I watched computing shrink in physical size, while expanding exponentially in personal freedom.

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1: The Mainframe Monoliths of Colombo

My journey into the world of software began in a tiny, 12x10-foot room in Sri Lanka. In that room sat a single, heavy piece of machinery that defined my early engineering life: an IBM Model 29 Card Punch machine.

 IBM Model 29 Card Punch Machine

In the late 1970s, coding in FORTRAN IV meant dealing with brutal physical realities. Every single line of logic, every loop, and every variable declaration had to be meticulously pressed onto a rectangular piece of cardboard. A single card represented a single line of code. If you had a dataset, that meant thousands more cards. The room was constantly filled with the rhythmic, mechanical clack-clack-clack of the punch machine.

Once your code deck and data deck were complete, the real suspense began. We didn’t have a terminal to run the code. Instead, the precious decks were bundled up and sent across town to the IBM 360/25 mainframe available at the Department of Census and Statistics.

The turnaround time was agonising. It regularly took more than two days just to get a printout back. If you made a typo—a missing comma, a misplaced statement number, or a dropped card—the mainframe would reject the job, print a single syntax error, and you would have to wait another forty-eight hours just to try again. This era taught me absolute precision; you had to mentally simulate the entire machine inside your head and "desk-check" your logic perfectly before ever handing your deck away.

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2: Breaking the Barrier

The first massive breakthrough in my programming life came in 1980. We received a Data General NOVA/4 minicomputer on loan for a single year.

Using a Data General NOVA/4 minicomputer on loan for a single year

For someone used to waiting days for a mainframe queue, the NOVA/4 completely broke the barrier of the two-day delay. For the first time, the feedback loop was shortened. We could catch compilation errors and reports in hours rather than days, completely transforming how we learned. Soon after, we stepped up to an in-house Data General Eclipse S/140 computer. Having an in-house machine changed the psychological dynamic of programming entirely. We were no longer just passive creators handing decks away; we were actively working with the machine in real time.

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3: The 32KB Dynamic Engine – Developing INSTAT

This foundational discipline of absolute code efficiency served me perfectly when I moved to the United Kingdom to join the University of Reading. There, under the vision of Dr Roger Stern, Professor of Applied Statistics, we set out to develop a comprehensive package that seemed structurally impossible at the time: the INSTAT Statistical Package for the iconic BBC Microcomputer.

Developing INSTAT on BBC computer at the University of Reading

The challenge was daunting. We had to fit a massive, multi-featured statistical toolkit into a machine with a mere 32KB of RAM. Under normal development paradigms, loading a program of that scale would instantly exhaust the memory before any data could even be processed.

To break this constraint, Dr Kevin Seneviratne and I came up with a brilliant, highly novel architectural idea that was years ahead of its time: The Overlay Concept. Long before modern operating systems popularised Dynamic Link Libraries (DLLs), we built a system that functioned on the exact same dynamic principle.

My specific responsibility was to design and program the Central CORE Module. This core was the heart and brain of INSTAT; it sat permanently in memory, carefully keeping track of the processed data structures and global variables. When a user executed a specific command, the Central Core would dynamically look up, load, and swap the relevant sub-module into the remaining RAM footprint on request, executing the task seamlessly without corrupting the underlying dataset.

This architecture was a masterpiece of cooperative engineering. Because the Central Core smoothly managed the system's stability, the other module writers were given complete freedom to write their specific statistical tools without worrying about breaking the machine's memory boundary. To rigorously test the muscle and fluidity of my Central Core, I even programmed the software's Graphical Module myself.

By the time INSTAT was ready for commercial launch across the UK and internationally, our lightweight, dynamic architecture successfully managed 22 different distinct modules inside that tiny 32KB footprint. It was a thrilling, pioneering moment—we were actively developing a software structure that almost no other developers at the time had even conceptualised.

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4: The Green Phosphor Room of Essex

The culmination of my journey took place between 1984 and 1985 during my postgraduate computer science studies at the University of Essex.

The PDP-11 lab terminal at the University of Essex

Walking into the Essex laboratory meant stepping into the architecture that forged the modern world. We were working on PDP-11 minicomputers, bathed in the distinct, glowing green aura of VT100 video terminals. The mechanical clatter of printing teletypes was gone, replaced by the quiet, instant scroll of text on a screen.

My very first programming assignment at Essex was a true trial by fire: to write a C-like interpreter language using the C programming language. Clutching the classic white-and-blue "K&R" textbook—The C Programming Language by Brian Kernighan and Dennis Ritchie—I set to work. The task was beautifully poetic. A decade earlier at Bell Labs, computer science pioneers like Ken Thompson and Dennis Ritchie had evolved the interpreted B language into the compiled C language to build Unix. By writing a custom interpreter in C on a PDP-11 terminal, I was walking right backward through the evolutionary line of the operating system itself.

It was a masterclass in pointer manipulation and manual memory management. A single un-freed pointer in your symbol table or abstract syntax tree would instantly crash the terminal with a ruthless "Segmentation fault - core dumped." But the feedback loop was instant, and the hours dissolved as I chased logic bugs across that glowing green screen.

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Conclusion: The Craft of the Code

When I watch interviews with the creators of these languages today—like the extensive oral history of Kenneth Lane Thompson, 1983 ACM Turing Award Recipient—I realize how incredibly fortunate I was to live through that exact transition. I didn’t just study computer science; I lived through the pivots that defined it.

To the modern developer sitting in front of a high-resolution display with infinite gigabytes of memory and automated AI helpers, my journey might sound like an ancient history lesson. But the craftsmanship, the patience, and the profound thrill of making a machine speak remain exactly the same. We built the digital world line by line—and sometimes, card by card.

Bridging Ancient History and Modern Sinhala Unicode Standards

The Palace of Knossos in Crete on 29 June 1997

Reflecting on my visit to the Palace of Knossos in Crete on 29 June 1997, I am struck by the unique convergence of time and technology that defined that journey.

Standing before the South Propylaea of Knossos—the ceremonial gateway to Europe's oldest city—I was reminded of the sheer endurance of human civilisation. The Minoan culture that thrived here over 4,000 years ago left an indelible mark on history, much like the work we were undertaking during the Unicode Consortium 33 Meeting held on the island that same year.

As a mission member, I was there with a clear, albeit challenging, objective: to advocate for the standardisation of the Sinhala language character code. After lengthy and rigorous discussions, we reached a historic agreement with the Unicode Consortium and the International Organization for Standardization (ISO).

Just as the stones of Knossos have stood the test of time, our commitment to this standard ensured that the Sinhala language would find a sanctuary in the infinite tapestry of the digital age. It was a profound experience to secure the approval of our Unicode Code Table as an international standard; to have facilitated the digital preservation of our language while surrounded by the architectural legacy of the ancient world remains one of the most rewarding chapters of my career.

Ultimately, both these weathered stones and our modern codes act as quiet guardians of our heritage—precious vessels carrying the heartbeat of our culture forward, ensuring that even as centuries pass, our voice remains vibrant and enduring for generations yet to come.

© Turrance Nandasara

Journey Through the Uva Highlands – A Memoir of April 1998

 by Turrance Nandasara

Sunny on estate road — My old B12 is climbing faithfully through rough, winding paths.

Introduction: A Road Into Memory

April 1998 remains one of the most meaningful travel chapters of my life. It was the Sinhala and Tamil New Year season, a time when the island slows down, yet the mountains of Uva seem to breathe with a deeper calm. I travelled in my faithful old companion—the 6th Generation Nissan Sunny/Sentra (B12), a 1990 model that had already carried me across many rough and forgotten roads of the hill country.

This journey took me through the Uva Province, across abandoned tea estates, burnt factories from the unrest of the late 1980s, and two of Sri Lanka’s most iconic waterfalls—Dunhinda and Bambarakanda. Fourteen photographs captured during this trip now serve as windows into that moment in time.

Dunhinda Waterfall: The Mist of Badulla

Main view of Dunhinda — Smoky water thundering into the valley, filling the air with cool mist

Dunhinda Waterfall does not reveal itself easily. Situated along the Badulla–Mahiyangana Road, about 5 kilometres north of Badulla, the entrance at Dunhinda Junction is clearly marked. From there begins a 1.5‑kilometre jungle footpath, a trail alive with birdsong, the scent of wet leaves, and the distant rumble of falling water.

Valley view from Tipila — Rolling green slopes opening into a breathtaking highland valley.

As I walked deeper into the forest, the sound grew louder until the waterfall appeared through a veil of white spray. The name Dunhinda—meaning “smoky vapour”—felt perfectly apt. The plume of mist rising from the base drifted across the valley like a living presence.

Standing on the observation platform, I felt the cool droplets settle on my skin. It felt as though the waterfall itself was greeting me.

Through Tipila Tea Estate: Beauty and Sorrow Intertwined

Burnt tea factory ruins — Silent reminders of a troubled past among the green hills.

Burnt tea factory ruins — Silent reminders of a troubled past among the green hills.

Leaving Badulla, I drove through the Tipila tea estate, a landscape of haunting contrasts. The hills rolled out in perfect green waves, yet scattered among them were the charred remains of tea factories burnt during the unrest of the late 1980s and early 1990s.

These ruins were not just abandoned buildings—they were reminders of livelihoods lost and communities disrupted. The silence around them carried a weight that words struggle to hold.

Estate paths or line rooms — Everyday life framed by tea bushes, hills, and quiet resilience.

My old Sunny handled the rough estate roads with its familiar resilience. Every bend revealed a new valley, a new angle of light, a new reminder of how beauty and sorrow often coexist in the hill country.

[Insert Photo 7: Valley view from Tipila]

Pine forest road — A cool, fragrant climb through tall pines toward the falls.

Estate paths or line rooms — Everyday life framed by tea bushes, hills, and quiet resilience

The tea bushes glowed in the afternoon sun, and the wind carried the scent of eucalyptus and damp soil. It was a landscape that felt both wounded and eternal.

Bambarakanda Falls: Crown Jewel of the Highlands

From Kalupahana, the road climbs into one of the most serene corners of the Sri Lankan highlands—the Kalupahana Valley. Here stands Bambarakanda Falls, the tallest waterfall in Sri Lanka at 263 metres (863 feet), ranked 461st in the world. It is formed by the Kuda Oya, a tributary of the Walawe River, which begins in the Horton Plains.

Kalupahana junction — The turnoff that leads into the heart of the highlands.

What makes Bambarakanda unique is its setting. Instead of a tropical broadleaf forest, the waterfall rises from a pine‑covered landscape, giving it an almost foreign character. The narrow road, about 5 kilometres from the A4 highway, winds upward with spectacular vantage points.

Base of Bambarakanda — Standing small beneath Sri Lanka’s tallest waterfall.

At certain bends, the waterfall appeared as a silver thread; at others, it towered like a white pillar against the dark rock.

Standing at the base, I felt dwarfed by its height. The spray drifted across the valley, catching the sunlight in fleeting rainbows.

Closing Reflection: A Journey That Stayed With Me

Sunny with a valley backdrop — My loyal travel companion resting above the sweeping hills.

That April journey—through waterfalls, ruined factories, pine forests, and tea‑covered hills—remains one of the most meaningful travels of my life. The beauty of the Uva highlands, the quiet resilience of its landscapes, and the memories captured in my 14 photographs still stay with me.

Final sunset or landscape — The day fading over Uva, leaving only light, wind, and memory.

Travelling in my old Sunny, feeling every bump of the rough hill‑country roads, I realised that journeys are not measured only in distance. They are measured in the emotions they stir, the histories they reveal, and the stories they leave behind.