Resplendent isle in transit: The misery of getting from A to B

For centuries, many travellers have waxed eloquent about Sri Lanka, the “Resplendent Isle.” They spoke of lush tea estates, golden shores, and a spirit of much-admired spontaneous hospitality that defined our Pearl of the Indian Ocean. But today, the residents of this isle know a different reality; one not of postcards, but of grease, grit, and the grinding misery of a transport system, virtually in terminal collapse. To move from Point A to Point B in modern Sri Lanka is no longer a simple errand; it is a “Herculean effort” of survival against a backdrop of state incompetence, private-sector thuggery, total disregard for human decency and a government that seems to have outsourced its conscience to the highest bidder. For the millions who call this thrice-blessed island home, the daily reality of navigating it by any form of transport has become a “major catastrophe” of Dickensian proportions. To move from Point A to Point B in 2026 is no longer a simple logistical task; it is a distasteful test of human endurance, a drain on the spirit, and a gamble with one’s own safety. The current transport status of Sri Lanka is not merely “poor”, a terminology that defies even proper definition. It is a monumental systemic failure, a toxic cocktail of state negligence, private-sector extortion, and a total collapse of regulatory oversight.

The Iron Horse in Decay: A Rail Service in Tatters At the heart of our transit woes is the state-run surface rail service. As the only transport entity exclusively handled by the government, the railways should be the backbone of our economy. Instead, they have become a testament to nonchalant and omnipresent bureaucratic apathy. The carriages, many of which look as though they have not seen a lick of paint or a structural repair since the mid-20th century, are in a state of advanced decay. The statistics tell a grim story. Derailments have become so frequent that they are no longer headline news but a daily footnote in the lives of commuters. These “accidents” are rarely the acts of God; they are the inevitable results of poor maintenance of tracks and rolling stock. Unacceptable delays are now the standard operating procedure. A journey that should take an hour often stretches into three, leaving students, office workers, and labourers stranded on sweltering platforms while the authorities offer nothing but silence or hollow excuses. While other nations race toward high-speed travel connectivity, our “Queen of Jaffna” and “Udarata Menike” crawl through a landscape of systemic neglect. The symptoms are visible to any commuter: rusted carriages with leaking roofs, seat upholstery that has not seen a deep clean since the 1970s, and an electrical system prone to sparks and darkness. But the issues run deeper than aesthetics. We are witnessing a terrifying frequency of derailments, often blamed on “technical faults” that are actually the predictable results of poor track maintenance and a lack of spare parts. Accidents at unprotected crossings continue to claim lives, while “unacceptable delays” have become the only predictable feature of the timetable. For the office worker in Colombo Fort or the student in Peradeniya, the train is no longer a vessel of progress; it is a gamble with time and safety.

The Bus “Mafia” and the Ransom of the Commuter If the rail service is a ghost of a bygone era, the fee-levying bus service is a modern-day war zone. The landscape is split between the state-run Sri Lanka Transport Board (SLTB), burdened by a very poorly maintained fleet of ageing buses and a massive and aggressive fleet of private buses, which outmatch and outperform the state-run flotilla, not by efficiency but by sheer intimidation. It is absolutely crucial to note that neither serves the public. The SLTB really operates a skeletal, poorly maintained fleet that barely scratches the surface of demand. The private buses are a law unto themselves. At the heart of the private transport sector lies an association that critics have aptly dubbed a “Mafia.” Headed by the influential figure colloquially known as “Bus G”, this association holds the entire nation’s commuters to ransom. At the drop of a hat, they can paralyse the country with “trade union action” that are little more than unsophisticated blackmail. In a telling ransom note, whenever a policy change or a fuel hike threatens their bottom line, the buses disappear from the roads. The result? Thousands of citizens are stranded in the blistering heat, watching their productivity and dignity evaporate while the “association” negotiates with a government that appears to be absolutely terrified of their political muscle. There is a dark irony in the politics of it all. The kingpins of this “bus mafia” openly boast that they were instrumental in bringing the current political powers into office. Consequently, the government appears not just toothless, but complicit. While the public suffers, the state turns a blind eye to overcrowding, reckless driving, and the use of nasty, addictive drugs by the staff, which turns our highways into graveyards. The powers-that-be do not have the gumption to call a spade, just that, a spade, and rein in the miscreants, using the finest employment of the laws that govern this country.

The Law of the Tuk-Tuk: A Free-for-All on Three Wheels Descending further into the chaos, we find the omnipresent three-wheeler and taxi services. Once a convenient alternative, the “Tuk-Tuk” has become a law unto itself. In a country where the cost of living is already spiralling, these unscrupulous operators have created a “free-for-all” fare system. There is no central control over rates; instead, passengers are forced to haggle or succumb to whatever arbitrary figure the driver decides upon. For those who can afford to bypass the buses, the totally inconsiderate charges of three-wheelers and private taxis offer no sanctuary. What was once a convenient last-mile solution has devolved into a predatory racket. The tuk-tuk services have become stallions of self-importance, operating without any meaningful oversight of rates or conduct. Commuters are met with the nonchalant refusal of short-distance hires. Drivers, seeking to “make a fast buck,” prioritise long-distance hauls where they can extort exorbitant, unmetered fares. In the absence of a standardised digital fare system enforced by the state, the passenger is always the loser. The arrogance is palpable, and respect for fellow humans has been thrown out the window. These operators behave as if they own the asphalt, often claiming that their collective vote base was the kingmaker for the current political establishment. This perceived “immunity” has bred a culture of impunity where the commuter is treated as a nuisance rather than a customer. For the elderly trying to reach a hospital or a worker trying to get home during a rainstorm, the “refusal” has become a standard, insulting rejection. The fee-levying taxi services, though slightly more professional in appearance, operate with a similar mercenary mindset, exploiting the desperation of a public that has no other choice.

The RMV Mess, the Registration Trap and the Police Ambush For those who have attempted to escape the public transport nightmare by purchasing their own vehicles, a different kind of trap awaits. The government has allowed the mass import of private vehicles, including two-wheelers, but the Registrar of Motor Vehicles (RMV) has become a black hole of inefficiency. Delays in vehicle registration now run into several months. Despite a surge in private vehicle imports, the bureaucracy has ground to a resounding halt. Vehicle owners face “blatant delays” in registration that extend for several months, leaving them in a bureaucratic and legal limbo. The situation is worsened by the government’s decision to halt the private-sector issuance of number plates, centralising it into a system that is currently a “total mess.” Tens of thousands of vehicles are forced to ply the roads displaying only engine and chassis numbers, a temporary measure born of necessity. Yet for all that, and totally against even a minuscule iota of any consideration, the Police Department seems to have missed the memo and become a set of hungry predators. Officers wait in ambush, charging these owners with hefty fines for being on the road without official number plates; plates that the state itself has failed to provide. It is an avaricious cycle, where the state fails to register your car or motorcycle, and then the state’s law enforcement arm punishes you for that very failure. Rather than focusing on the blatantly reckless bus drivers or the lawless Tuk-Tuks, Police Officers wait in ensnarement to pounce on these “unregistered” vehicles. Even when owners produce documents proving the delay lies entirely with the RMV, they are charged and fined. The message is clear: the citizen must pay for the government’s failure. The Prohibitive Cost of Mobility Overseeing all of this is the crushing weight of fuel prices. The government continues to raise the cost of petrol and diesel with scant regard for the downstream consequences. These so-called “cost-reflective” adjustments may look good on a balance sheet in Washington or at the International Monetary Fund, but on the ground in Colombo and Kandy, they are prohibitive. Every hike in fuel prices triggers a “ripple effect” that raises the price of bread, vegetables, and, of course, the very transport that people use to get to work to pay for those goods.

Finally, a Nation at a Standstill The transport crisis is not just a logistical problem; it is a moral one of utter social degradation. It reflects on a government that has abandoned its primary duty: to provide the infrastructure for a functioning society. We are living on a “glorious isle” where the beauty of the landscape is now obscured by the soot of a broken bus and the stress of an uncertain commute. Going from Point A to Point B has become a major travail of unbelievable misery. Overseeing this chaos is a government that views the fuel pump as an Automated Teller Machine (ATM). The cost of all fuel types, from petrol to the diesel that powers the nation’s mobility has reached “absolutely prohibitive” levels. With scant regard for the domino effect on the cost of living, the authorities and the powers-that-be continue to raise prices, fuelling a major catastrophe of economic inflation. For the average Sri Lankan, the “travail of unbelievable misery” is now constant. We are a nation on the move, but we are moving towards a cliff from which we are likely to fall into an abyss of no return. Until the transport sector is stripped of its political “protectors” and returned to the service of the people, this “Resplendent Isle” will remain a beautiful prison for those trying to get from Point A to Point B. If the current administration continues to protect the infamous “mafias”, ignore the decay of the rails, and profit from the administrative chaos of the RMV, and totally fail to get their act together, they are not failing just the transport sector; they are in fact failing the very heart of the nation for sure. Our Motherland, Sri Lanka, deserves a whole lot better than a state of an ever-present and unending transit catastrophe. All the rhetoric about a rich country and a beautiful life that was promulgated in the not-too-distant past remains only as unbelievable wishful thinking.

By an Aficionado