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Saturday, 21 March 2015 00:00 - - {{hitsCtrl.values.hits}}
New York Times: No social function on this island is as important as the recent annual Royal-Thomian cricket match, but this year’s event was particularly special because of what has become known here as the Royalist coup.
It was celebrated last weekend in party tents with toasts involving many drinks, and in acts of silliness that often unfold during the match. As usual, not a lot of attention was paid to the young people in white clothing who were batting a ball around the green pitch.
Royal College and S. Thomas’ College, both founded by British clergy in the early 19th century, are this country’s Eton and Harrow — bastions of privilege that have groomed Sri Lanka’s leaders for nearly two centuries.
The schools have competed in cricket every March for 136 years, making it one of the longest continuous cricket rivalries in the world — a point almost every spectator will make within seconds of meeting a foreigner.
“We played during the world wars; we kept going during the worst of the civil war, when this city was like Beirut,” said Rajind Ranatunge, an airline pilot. “And the tsunami? Bah! Nothing stops us.”
Ranatunge’s implication, common here, was that the dandies of Eton and Harrow — the model for the Colombo schools — were not tough enough to continue play while millions were slaughtered during the world wars. The match has since evolved into a high-end bacchanal akin to the Kentucky Derby with rock bands, tubs of alcoholic beverages and exclusive tents guarded by mean-looking bouncers.
Risking death to attend, as some said they did during this country’s 26-year civil war between the Government, dominated by the Sinhalese ethnic majority, and rebels from the minority Tamil group, did not seem so crazy after the fifth glass of whiskey (another tradition, many insisted, is that foreigners must drink everything offered).
Attendees say there is a tacit understanding that the country’s most responsible citizens may be spotted doing less than responsible things at the match. The Housing Minister, Sajith Premadasa, for instance, spent much of Saturday crooning with a rock band. Premadasa will never be mistaken for a professional singer.
Indeed, attending the match is so ingrained in Sri Lanka’s elite, Prime Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe said in an interview, that even though reviving ties with India was one of his priorities, he faced an awful choice when he learned that Prime Minister Narendra Modi of India wished to make the first visit to Sri Lanka by an Indian premier in 28 years on the Friday and Saturday of the match.
“Modi or the Royal-Thomian? That’s a tough choice,” Wickremesinghe, laughing, said in an interview three weeks before the visit.
In the end, Wickremesinghe hosted Modi on Friday but did not accompany him Saturday when Modi travelled to the north of the country. Instead, Wickremesinghe attended the match, a homecoming of sorts for him.
Ten of the Government’s 28 Cabinet Ministers attended Royal College, including the Prime Minister, Foreign Minister, Finance Minister and Housing Minister, said Gayantha Karunatilleka, the Government’s Media Minister and also a Royal graduate.
The proliferation of schoolmates has led to grumbling that the January election bringing the present Government to power amounted to a Royalist coup. By contrast, former President Mahinda Rajapaksa attended Thurstan College, a more humble school.
Although Rajapaksa sent his sons to S. Thomas’, he was never truly accepted by the Royal-Thomian set, according to Rajpal Abeynayake, the former Editor-in-Chief of The Daily News and a Rajapaksa admirer.
“The Colombo elite never wanted the Rajapaksas in their world; they snobbishly saw them as country bumpkins,” Abeynayake said.
A graduate of S. Thomas’ himself, Abeynayake said this year’s match was a celebration of the return of the country’s traditional elite to power.
“While it was all in fun, the subtext was that these people were back in charge now,” Abeynayake said.
Karunatilleka made no apology for that. “Yes, we’re back in charge, and we’re bringing with us the values we learned at these schools — inclusiveness and common decency,” he said.
The present Government has promised to reconcile with the country’s Tamils, who voted overwhelmingly for President Maithripala Sirisena, who, after defeating Rajapaksa, appointed Wickremesinghe.
The two schools have diverse student bodies that include Sinhalese and Tamils, and Buddhists, Hindus, Muslims and Christians. Almost everyone interviewed during the match said their schoolmates and friends came from all backgrounds. During almost a decade in power, Rajapaksa cultivated Sinhalese and Buddhist nationalist groups that, in important ways, rejected such inclusiveness.
“Everyone who went to these schools grew up with a mix of ethnicities and religions,” said Harsha de Silva, the Deputy Minister of Policy Planning and Economic Affairs and a Royal graduate. “Those are the beliefs of these schools, and we’re now bringing that back to the Government. And everyone here is celebrating that.”
The longevity of that return is uncertain. Parliamentary elections must be called by summer, and Rajapaksa may yet return to power. In the past, whoever won the presidency guided the Government for years. Yet the present Government has promised to pass constitutional changes to weaken the presidency and re-empower the prime minister, who could end up being Rajapaksa.
“Nobody knows who’s going to be in power later this year,” said Tilak de Zoysa, Chairman of Carson Cumberbatch, a Sri Lankan conglomerate. “We’ve never had this kind of uncertainty.”
As if to emphasise the uncertainty, torrential rains ended Saturday’s match hours before it was set to conclude, drenching those who had failed to secure tickets to the tents. It was a sodden elite who emerged from the cricket grounds, although their spirits were still high as they lustily sang school fight songs with Latin phrases that most seemed to know by heart.
