Baker’s Bend — A Hill‑Country Memory from 1 August 1996

Standing at Baker’s Bend on 1 August 1996 — a moment of quiet above the valleys, where the cool air and endless green felt like a pause in time.

Baker’s Bend has long been spoken of as one of the most striking viewpoints in the Nonpareil Estate, but my visit on 1 August 1996 gave the place a meaning that goes beyond its geography. The journey itself was a slow ascent through the estate’s winding road, each bend revealing deeper folds of green — tea gardens, tall eucalyptus sentinels, and the distant blue ridges that define this part of the hill country.

At the 23rd bend, the landscape opened out in a way that felt almost ceremonial. The viewpoint, shaped like a horseshoe, carries the old story of Governor Samuel Baker, whose horse slipped from this very cliff. In grief, he had the bend fashioned in the shape of a horseshoe — a gesture that has since become part of the estate’s quiet folklore.

On that morning in 1996, the air was cool and clear, the light soft enough to give the mountains a gentle haze. I paused at the bend, letting the silence settle around me. The southern plains stretched far into the distance, while the ridges of Balathuduwa, Gommolikanda, and Adarakanda rose to the left like a protective wall. Behind me, the Nagrak Division and Horton Plains stood in their familiar, mist‑covered dignity.

Below is the sequence of photographs I captured that day — each one a small window into the landscape as it appeared then, untouched by time and memory.
Arrival at the Bend

Pausing at Baker’s Bend, 1 August 1996 — taking in the vast sweep of mountains and valleys from one of the most dramatic viewpoints in the Nonpareil Estate.

On the Rock Ledge

A quiet moment above the tea fields — standing on a rock ledge with the misty mountain layers stretching endlessly into the distance.

Pointing Across the Valley

Showing the view that took my breath away — the deep green slopes, the tall trees, and the rolling hills of the Nonpareil landscape.

Tea Plantation Panorama

The hillside tea gardens below Baker’s Bend — rows of bright green bushes and tall sentinel trees rising against the mountain backdrop.

Overlooking the Valley

A view from the edge — standing above the valley where the estate buildings sit far below, surrounded by steep, forested slopes.

Evening Light on the Tea Fields

Evening light over the tea fields — the sky glowing softly above the mountains as the day faded on 1 August 1996.

Rolling Tea Hills

Classic hill‑country beauty — tea bushes curving along the slopes, tall trees scattered like markers, and the mountains rising beyond.

Among the Terraces

Among the terraced tea gardens — a moment of calm surrounded by green patterns and stone pathways on a hillside full of life.

Closing Reflection

Looking back at these photographs, I am reminded not only of the grandeur of Baker’s Bend but also of the quietness of that day — a stillness that allowed the landscape to speak in its own voice. The cool air, the scent of tea leaves, the distant hum of the valley below — all of it remains preserved in memory, as vivid today as it was on that August morning in 1996.

The Wheels of Innovation: Sri Lanka’s First Mobile Computer Lab (1985)

 

In the mid-1980s, while much of the world was only just beginning to grasp the potential of the personal computer, a unique experiment was taking place on the roads of Sri Lanka.

Rewinding to 1985! 🕰️ This was the birth of the Mobile Computer Lab concept in Sri Lanka—a collaboration between CINTEC, the British Council, and the Ceylon Petroleum Corporation.

The Mobile Computer Lab was a visionary project born from a collaboration between CINTEC, the British Council, and the Ceylon Petroleum Corporation. At its heart was a Japanese-made Mitsubishi Fuso Rosa passenger van, generously donated by the Petroleum Corporation. However, this was no ordinary transport vehicle. We removed the passenger seats to make way for a fully networked digital classroom—the first of its kind in the country.

The University of Colombo’s Digital Signature

While the hardware—ten BBC Model B microcomputers—was provided by the British Council, the "soul" of the project was homegrown. All the educational software running on those machines was developed by our team at the University of Colombo.

Looking at the monitors in this restored photograph, you can see the distinctive "Mode 7" interface of the BBC Micro. The menu we designed was simple but comprehensive, categorised into:

• Primary Education

• Secondary Education

• Higher Education

• General Awareness Programs

A Mission of Awareness

Our mission was clear: to demystify the "electronic brain" for the public. The bus travelled from school to school and exhibition to exhibition, providing many Sri Lankans with their very first hands-on experience with a keyboard and a CRT monitor. It was an era of Econet networking and 5.25-inch floppy disks, where "computer awareness" was a rare and precious skill.

This project proved that geographic distance didn't have to be a barrier to digital literacy. It remains a proud chapter in the history of computing at the University of Colombo and a testament to what can be achieved through local innovation and international cooperation.

 

🌿 Magalla Wewa — A Timeless Reservoir of Sri Lanka’s Hydraulic Heritage

Magalla Wewa (also known as Magala Wewa) is an ancient reservoir in Nikaweratiya, Sri Lanka, with a remarkable history stretching back more than 1,700 years. It stands as a testament to the sophisticated hydraulic engineering of the Anuradhapura and Polonnaruwa kingdoms, whose irrigation systems remain among the finest in the ancient world.

🏛️ Historical Origins

Built by King Mahasen (276–303 CE)

Traditionally identified as one of the sixteen great reservoirs, Magalla Wewa — originally known as Mahadaragalla Wewa — is believed to have been constructed during the reign of King Mahasen, one of Sri Lanka’s greatest irrigation builders.

Expanded by King Parakramabahu the Great (1153–1186 CE)

Centuries later, during the Polonnaruwa period, King Parakramabahu I further enhanced the reservoir. While serving as the Prince of Maya Rata, he built five weirs across the Deduru Oya. One of these, the Sukara Nijjara weir, diverted water into Magalla Wewa through the Ridi Bendi Ela — a feeder canal that still supplies the tank today.

🔧 Restoration in the Modern Era

British Restoration (1873)

After falling into disuse over many centuries, the reservoir was restored by the British colonial administration in 1873.

Post‑Independence Improvements (1958)

Further augmentation works were carried out in 1958, strengthening the reservoir’s role in local agriculture and water management.

🌊 Key Features of the Reservoir

Infrastructure & Capacity

• Storage capacity: approx. 9.2 million m³ (7,480 acre‑feet)

• Bund length: 1,665 metres (5,463 ft)

• Maximum depth: 5.5 metres at spilling level

• Basin area: 32 km²

Water Supply

• Ridi Bendi Ela feeder canal: 21–23 km long

• Provides nearly 80% of the annual inflow

• Design capacity: 4.25 m³/s

The iconic dead tree of Magalla Wewa — a silent witness to centuries of changing waters and seasons.

Another ancient tree stands by the reservoir’s edge, its branches shaped by wind, water, and history.

A calm morning at Magalla Wewa — the water stretching out towards the horizon, still and reflective.

The reservoir at its fullest — trees partially submerged, revealing the vast reach of the ancient basin.

“A quiet moment by the water’s edge — Magalla Wewa’s timeless beauty captured in its reflections.

A personal moment by the reservoir — three generations enjoying the heritage and beauty of Magalla Wewa.

A Trip Down Memory Lane — Japan, March 2006

 A proper trip down memory lane.

On 14 March 2006, at Nagaoka University of Technology, we experienced what was quite possibly the heaviest snowfall the University had ever seen. Looking back at these photographs, I’m struck by just how extraordinary that winter was — and how deeply those years shaped my life.

These images bring back the friendships forged in the snow, the long days in the labs and offices, and the quiet moments of camaraderie that defined my time as a postgraduate student. They are a gentle reminder of a chapter filled with learning, discovery, and the kindness of the people I met along the way.

I’ve also included a glimpse of my traditional tatami room at the University guest house — my futon laid out neatly, shoji screens glowing softly, and the simple comforts that made it my home from home. A quintessential Japanese experience, and one I still cherish.

Missing Japan, always.

14 March 2006 — Nagaoka was buried under a monumental snowfall. A day none of us ever forgot.

Braving the snow with friends — the warmth of good company in the coldest of winters.

A moment of calm indoors, while the snow continued to fall outside.

“Life at the University — long days, good conversations, and work that shaped my future.

My home from home — a simple tatami room, a warm futon, and the quiet beauty of Japanese living.

Japan will always hold a special place in my heart.

“A proper trip down memory lane. Grateful for the years I spent in Japan — the people, the learning, and the moments that shaped me. Missing Japan, always.”

Bell‑Bottoms at College House — A Local Moment in a Global Fashion History

 

This photograph, taken in front of College House at the University of Colombo in 1975

Photo credit: Reproduced from the Facebook group Old London Photographs, originally submitted by Lee Angel.

This photograph, taken in front of College House at the University of Colombo, captures more than a personal moment from my youth. With me standing on the left, the image reflects how global fashion currents of the early 1970s reached Sri Lanka and became part of everyday life. The bell‑bottom trousers we are wearing were not simply a local trend; they were part of a broader international movement that had its origins in the cultural transformations of the late 1960s.

The bell‑bottom style first emerged in the United States and the United Kingdom, shaped by the counter‑culture, popular music, and a growing rejection of post‑war sartorial conventions. By 1975, the silhouette had become firmly established in British cities, where young people embraced wide‑legged trousers, patterned shirts, and relaxed tailoring as expressions of modernity and generational identity.

Although geographically distant, Sri Lanka was closely connected to these developments. The circulation of global fashion was facilitated by cinema, radio, imported magazines, and the increasing visibility of international youth culture. Local tailoring traditions adapted quickly, enabling young Sri Lankans to participate in the same aesthetic vocabulary that defined the era in London or Manchester. The trousers I am wearing in this photograph represent that convergence: a Sri Lankan interpretation of a style simultaneously visible on British streets.

The setting adds another layer of meaning. College House, with its colonial architecture and long academic history, stands as a symbol of intellectual life in Sri Lanka. To see global youth fashion expressed in this space is to witness the intersection of tradition and modernity, local identity and international influence.

In this sense, the photograph becomes a small historical document. It shows how global cultural currents were absorbed and re‑shaped within local contexts, and how young people in Sri Lanka engaged with the same visual language of modernity that defined the 1970s worldwide. My presence in the image places me within that broader story — a reminder that even in a pre‑digital age, ideas, styles, and aspirations travelled widely, linking lives across countries and cultures.