The Veil of Tradition

Sundays in Dalugama were cherished occasions, where church attendance was as much a social gathering as a spiritual one. Families would emerge from their homes in procession — the men leading in their distinctive blend of traditional sarongs paired with Western coats or shirts with trousers. Behind them followed their wives, elegant in sarees and white veils, with children in tow. The air would fill with pleasant conversation and laughter as they went to church.

At the heart of Dalugama’s church life stood Father Charles, a charismatic priest whose commanding voice and vibrant personality particularly enchanted the younger members of his congregation. Known for championing local traditions, including the parish parade, he often found himself at odds with evolving church policies.

The tension came to a head during one memorable sermon when Father Charles veered from his prepared homily to criticise women who wore what he deemed inappropriate blouses or had abandoned their veils. His outburst was particularly noteworthy as it directly opposed a recent papal decree making veils optional during church services.

“These parattis*,” he thundered from the pulpit, “come to church merely to display themselves.” His convictions ran so deep that he would refuse Holy Communion to women he judged improperly attired or unveiled.

The congregation became divided into two groups: the traditionalists — women who maintained their veils and dressed conservatively — and the modernisers, typically professionals who drove in from Colombo in contemporary attire. This social schism played out every Sunday beneath the church’s roof.

Meanwhile, the young boys of Dalugama, largely oblivious to these broader social changes, found entertainment in Father Charles’s impassioned outbursts. They snickered whenever his sermons devolved into colourful condemnations of modern dress.

Paratti means evil woman in Sri Lanka.