When going through nostalgic memories, Hikka (or Hikkaduwa / හික්කඩුව) is a memorable stop even today. All beings in Hikka! If you are an ocean lover, beach nerd, or a diver, Hikka would have been your go-to place at one stage of your life. It's the same for me. When I was at university, together with Kusum, I jumped onto a Galle intercity bus and went to Hikka for snorkeling, which instantly infected us with the enthusiasm to explore more. As I remember, at first we hired some masks and snorkels from Sunil Aiya and just jumped into the ocean and started swimming here and there. Then we heard Sunil Aiya yelling from afar, "What are you guys doing? The reef is on the other side!"
Then we went in that direction and dipped into the water. Once we came up, we couldn't believe our eyes: could the underwater world be this beautiful? That was a moment of serendipity for us! We both knew we had just been infected by a virus that was going to stay with us forever. It was not just the ocean, but also the uniqueness of the surroundings, the easy-going beach dwellers, and the local culture that impressed our young minds. So we started coming more frequently, and we both knew it was not enough—we wanted to dive and see the beauties of much deeper waters.
This should have been the late nineties: the war was still on, and there were not many tourists. The coral reefs were very much alive, and fish were everywhere.
Diving for the first time
As soon as we started earning, Roshan, Devana, and I came to Hikka for our first diving certification. At that time, diving was not popular among locals at all. The idea of three dudes jumping off a bus, walking into a diving station, and saying, "We want to do the course," was kind of unheard of. We may have looked like three idiots, but we soon settled into the community very well. We enjoyed the beach culture and everything that was going on there.
Diving was added to our lifestyle. Later on, Roshan bought a classis Mitsubishi jeep (4DR5), and coming in the jeep added even more fun to the experience. We used to stop at Sinharaja Hotel at Aluth Gama (i.e. අලුත් ගම) for breakfast. If not, we would go to a small café near Hikka town for a quick brekky, where the cashier was a pretty girl whom we called J.Lo. Actually, she had something of Jennifer Lopez about her. Our lunch was usually at Jadi Kade (ජාඩි කඩේ), which was later destroyed by the tsunami.
Kalu, or Kalu Aiya (කලු අයියා!), was the owner of the diving center called Blue Deep, where we started our diver training. Another remarkable person was Menaka, a dive master (now Instructor) who conducted most of the diving operations. At that time, Sri Lanka did not have many diving instructors, so European instructors would come for the season, have a great time, and sign off on certifications.
I can remember the Finnish diving instructor Eric, who was our instructor for the PADI Open Water course. He was a very handsome guy, as I can still remember.
I still do at least a couple of dives in Hikka each season, reliving all my memories. Sadly, the Hikka reef is not as rich as it used to be. As a photographer, I hardly find anything interesting nowadays, but my Hikka trips are actually dedicated to something emotional—a connection to our good old diving days. Nowadays, you can dive in Hikka in the morning and be home for evening tea, thanks to the Southern Highway.
One sad memory is the untimely death of Nalaka, who was another youthful dive master. He had tried kitesurfing on the beach with an unsuitable belt attached, which was the main fatal mistake he made. A sudden gale threw him toward a concrete pillar by the beach, causing his sudden death.
We went to his house to pay our last respects, and it felt like a sudden realization of reality beneath the nonstop party mode that usually defines the southern beach towns.
Eventful Rescue Diver training
It was only a few days before my wedding, and I decided to complete my rescue diving certification. I was in a hurry since I knew it could take a long time to return to my diving life after getting married. So Dive Instructor Lakshman Muthukuda, Muthukuda Master, as he is called, was arranged to conduct the training.
What I learned from Muthukuda Master was discipline more than anything. He started training early in the morning and was there sharp at the agreed time.
Mr. Muthukuda was a mature and experienced diving instructor (one of the few in the country at that time), who had also done commercial diving in the Middle East, as I heard.
An interesting fact about him was the way he first tried diving. He was working for the police at that time. He had seen Arthur C. Clarke and a few other divers setting up to dive in Galle, and he, along with others, curiously joined the crowd to see what was going on. As this was considered a nuisance by the divers, they chased the crowd away.
Young Muthukuda was agitated and went away, but later returned in his uniform to inform them that he was going to take legal action against whatever they were doing there. Then Arthur C. Clarke’s team realized this was going to be a problem and asked him what he needed in order not to proceed.
Without hesitation, he said he wanted to try what they were doing using their diving gear. The rest is history—he ended up as one of the pioneering PADI dive instructors in the country.
After realizing his experience and his willingness to share it with young people, we arranged for him to conduct an AWARE Program at the University of Colombo. He was very pleased with the opportunity. Sometime later, he even authored a book in Sinhala on the introduction to diving, and Professor Nihal Dayawansha, who was a close friend of mine, ended up writing the preface.
He always stayed in touch with me. He actually passed away a couple of years ago.
My rescue diver training had more amusing memories. Given that Muthukuda Master started the training early in the morning, I didn’t have time to travel from Colombo. So I stayed in a cheap hotel in Hikkaduwa called Blue Fin Hotel. The rooms were very dark and basic. Unless you used the mosquito net provided, a cloud of mosquitoes would suck your blood to death. The owning family of the hotel lived in an adjacent section of the old-looking house, part of which had been converted into the hotel.
I was actually a bit sick during the course, but I didn’t want to give up since I was quite adamant at that time. Ironically, the rescue course consists of all the safety measures of diving, including identifying when not to dive—such as when you are not well!
One night, the guys from the diving station invited me to a cocktail party held in one of the bungalows at Narigama (නාරිගම), a nearby town. It was owned by another guy we knew, Sugath, who lived mostly in Switzerland since he was married to a Swiss lady. It was a remarkably beautiful mansion. It was a good party, and I was careful not to drink too much since I was not well and also needed to dive early the next morning.
When I came back just after midnight, the gate of the Blue Fin Hotel was closed. Then I recalled the house rules: the gates would be closed at 11 p.m., and no one was allowed to leave or enter afterwards. I was wondering what options I had at that point.
Another guest of the hotel appeared from the dark road, and I could recognize him as the French guy I had met at the hotel in the morning. He was a rather unorthodox guest who always wore a sarong—only a sarong. He had returned from somewhere after having a joint with locals. You could say he was hardly in this world.
Whatever the case, we both had the same problem. We made a plan: one of us would hold the gate while the other climbed the tall grill gate carefully and jumped inside. As agreed, I held the gate while he climbed first. He successfully landed on the other side.
Now it was my turn. I climbed carefully, and when I was coming down on the other side, I jumped from halfway but landed on the poor Frenchman’s feet. He was shocked and screamed in agony. Then the hotel family woke up and was very angry and unhappy with both of us. We both went to our respective rooms like kids sneaking back into naughty corners.
Trinco - a new beginning!
As the war ended, new avenues opened for divers to explore the east. No infrastructure was ready at the time. In 2010, I went to Trinco with Devana by bus and met Menaka, who was operating diving with Poseidon. Not many hotels were available; a very basic hotel called Shahira was the place we stayed.
Apart from us, there was a Russian photographer and a young girl from Switzerland—the only other divers present. I also remember seeing one of the most remarkable sunrises on the beach near Irrakkandy (ඉරක්කන්ඩි).
Many years later, I did another certification under Menaka, who had earned instructor status by then. It was in Trincomalee. Even at that time, I guess around 2015, Trincomalee did not have much infrastructure for tourists, so Devana and I stayed in a nice little bungalow owned by a local doctor.
While we were changing in the bungalow, Menaka walked to the nearby lagoon, caught a fish, and gave it to the caretaker, who prepared amazing meals for the next couple of days.
We needed to use enriched air (increased oxygen concentration) for the training. Since those facilities were not available locally, they were sent from Hikkaduwa day before by passenger bus as special cargo.
Nostalgia!
Kalu is now old. He never married. Actually, now I dive with Kalu's nephew. Kalu just sits at the center, directing and advising. Some of the guys I dive with today were not even born when we first visited Hikka in our youth.
Menaka is still active. He became an award-winning underwater cameraman and moved ahead in life in a different direction after marrying his Japanese girlfriend. They have two daughters and live in Japan.
Menaka comes for the season in the east and mostly operates a couple of whale-watching boats, along with some diving activities. I had the opportunity to dive with Menaka as recently as the 2025 Trinco season. It is amazing to see him with the same youthful spirit and physique.
Whenever I dive with Menaka, I always learn a couple of new photography tips from him.
All these nostalgic memories came to my mind recently after I watched a very nice movie called Ayu that shows beach life, its vibrance, and also its hidden tragedy. This took me back to the people I met on the beach in my youth and how their lives changed over time. It also made me reflect on how our own lives have changed.
From the three “idiots” who initially went to Hikka as joyful youngsters, Roshan is now living in New Zealand. I have returned to the country after a long stay in Australia. We both are family men and, of course, become more responsible people. Devana is more interested in wildlife, history, and indigenous medicine. He lives a very simple life. Although Devana does not dive much anymore, still he joins my underwater photography exercises more frequently.
People we met in the early days of this journey are now old. Some are gone forever. We don’t know the whereabouts of most others—maybe Je Lo is now a mature woman with children who do not know that three guys from Colombo once admired her beauty many decades ago.
I keep on returning to Hikka and ocean reminds me of past..
In a way, it allows me ponder about life.. How everything change..
Ocean before me remains same... like a wise old man who knows the secrets of life!
