I was born in Colombo, Sri Lanka, in a modest suburb called Dematagoda, a town whose rhythms, smells, and voices are etched in the deepest grooves of my memory. There was nothing pretentious or glamorous about it, but there was soul—an unvarnished authenticity that shaped the way I see the world even now. Ours was a home of six children—four boys and two girls—and though resources may not have always been abundant, our wealth lay in what truly mattered: love, discipline, and knowledge. My childhood was enveloped in the cadences of classical music, the pages of literature, and the structure of law. We were a family steeped in classical education. In those formative years, we had a comfortable life, but more importantly, we had values.
The Scholarly Roots
All of my schooling, from the earliest days through high school, was at St. Joseph’s College in Colombo. It was more than an institution of learning; it was a crucible of character. St. Joseph’s taught me not only how to think, but how to live. It taught me that knowledge was not merely the accumulation of facts but the discernment of truth. The school introduced me to the great thinkers, writers, and jurists whose philosophies would come to shape my worldview. At home, my eldest brother, Gamini—whose career would culminate in his appointment as a Judge of the Court of Appeal in Sri Lanka—was a towering intellectual force. My sister, meanwhile, was a musical prodigy whose mastery of the pianoforte taught me that discipline and beauty could coexist in the same breath. All three of us pursued law. It was not simply a profession in our household; it was a calling.
Legal Awakening
I earned my law degree and was soon captivated by the emerging field of aviation law. There was something deeply poetic about the confluence of sovereignty and airspace, about treaties that governed invisible borders. In 1978, I married my contemporary in the Faculty of Law, Anoma, and continued to Australia, where I pursued a Master’s degree in air and space law, while Anoma pursued graduate studies with me at Monash University and was awarded a Master’s degree in environmental law. She later taught at the Open University in Sri Lanka until she accompanied me to Canada. Driven by an insatiable hunger for understanding, I went on to complete two doctorates in law (at McGill University and the University of Colombo). These were not academic exercises but explorations of justice, order, and interdependence. The law, to me, has never been a mechanical construct. It is organic, breathing, and evolving with the world it seeks to regulate.
Air Lanka and Beyond
In 1983, I joined Air Lanka and ended up as Head of International Relations and Insurance. I was there until 1990. It was a challenging and invigorating period. I was immersed in the labyrinth of bilateral air service agreements, liability regimes, and the dynamics of global aviation insurance. More importantly, it was during these years that I learned how to operate in an environment where national interest and international law often collided. I was no longer a student of law—I was now its practitioner. And I loved it.
ICAO Years
In 1990, I was appointed to the International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO), a specialized agency of the United Nations. For over two decades, until 2013, I served as a senior official, as Chief of the Treaty Section, engaging in high-level negotiations, treaty drafting, and policy development. I also worked on environmental standards, dispute resolution, and safety oversight systems. The world of ICAO was rigorous and politically charged, yet it allowed me to contribute meaningfully to the governance of global aviation. I often reflected on the Preamble to the Chicago Convention, which calls for cooperation among States to ensure that international civil aviation is developed in a safe and orderly manner. I took this as a personal mandate.
Aviation Strategies and Academic Life
After retiring from ICAO, I joined Aviation Strategies International, through which I continue to provide consultancy in air law and policy. Simultaneously, I have continued teaching at McGill and Concordia Universities, mentoring the next generation of aviation professionals. My academic life has been a labor of love—I have published 41 books and over 475 articles in peer-reviewed journals. I do not write to impress. I write to clarify, to challenge, and to preserve. Each book is a conversation with the past, a dialogue with the present, and a gesture toward the future.
Philosophy of Life and Law
The arc of my life has been essentially stoic. I have tried to live by Justinian’s Constitution: to live honorably, to harm no one, and to give each man his due. In all things, I have sought justice, and in justice, I have relied on Kant’s categorical imperative—that one must act only according to that maxim by which you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law. I trust in empirical reasoning, and I employ inductive, deductive, and abductive logic as tools in the pursuit of truth. Einstein once said, “There is no right or wrong—only what works and what doesn’t.” That, to me, is a principle of jurisprudence as much as science.
Fatherhood and the Inner Life
But no law, no book, no doctrine means more to me than the role I play as a husband and father. My elder son is a playwright, a man of vision and voice. His creative genius continues to amaze and humble me. My younger son is a pianist of rare brilliance. His music is a mirror to the ineffable. Providing for my family has been the cornerstone of my life’s work. Whatever else I may have achieved, it pales in comparison to the joy and pride I take in watching my sons grow.
Music, Essays, and Inner Harmony
I find solace in music. I play the piano—not as a performer, but as one who communes with silence and sound. I write essays and poems, not to decorate the world but to understand it. The essay is the modern temple of thought, and the poem, its sacred hymn. I publish not for acclaim, but because the written word is the most permanent part of a transient life.
Legacy
What do I leave behind? I leave behind my books and articles—witnesses to a life of inquiry. I leave behind students who may one day do more than I ever could. I leave behind a memory of having traveled widely, seen much, and judged little. My legacy is not carved in stone, but carried in paper, in memory, in music. I do not claim greatness, only that I tried. I tried to serve justice, to honor my responsibilities, and to remain faithful to the truth.
And if in some far corner of the world, a law student reads one of my books and finds the courage to think deeply and act rightly, then that is more than enough. That is all I ever hoped for.
