By Sarath Obeysekera

I returned home after years abroad—hardened not by comfort, but by experience.

From the oil fields of Baku, to the frozen gas lines of Orenburg, to the disciplined industrial floors of Moscow, and further west into the offshore precision of Norway and refinery construction in the United Kingdom—the journey had been long, demanding, and deeply educational.

I had seen systems that worked.

I had seen men who respected steel, process, and discipline.

And then—I walked into a Sri Lankan dockyard. As a consultant hired by a original JVP stalwarts who came out of prison and vacant business manager 

The Shock of Reality under state control

It was not a workplace. It was a waiting room.

Workers in slippers.

Cigarettes in one hand, betel in the other.

Groups gathered—not around work, but around time.

Waiting.

Waiting for the lunch packet from the Port kitchen.

Waiting for the day to end.

Waiting, it seemed, for someone else to care.

The yard was cluttered. Tools scattered. Garbage in corners.

There was no urgency. No ownership. No system.

And I was asked to take over—without real authority.

The First Test: A Damaged Ship

The first challenge came quickly—a vessel with a damaged bulbous bow. A serious structural issue. Not cosmetic. Not optional.

This was not the place for guesswork.

I called the welding engineer—a man I had personally trained.

Give me the welding procedure,” I said.

He handed me a scrap of paper.

On it, written casually:

Welding rod size: 10 to 14.”

That was all.

No mention of:

• Steel type
• Heat treatment
• Welding sequence
• Pre-heating
• Post-weld inspection
• Non-destructive testing

Nothing.

This was not a procedure. This was a gamble.

Introducing a Wattoruwa”

That day, the dockyard saw its first real welding procedure.

A proper WPS—what the workers began calling a wattoruwa.”

We documented:

• Material specifications
• Joint preparation
• Welding sequence
• Preheat and interpass temperatures
• Inspection methods

We brought in structure where there was none.

Not ISO 9000. Not international certification.

Just basic engineering discipline.

And it worked.

Resistance from Within

Change is never welcomed by those comfortable in disorder.

The local officers did not like me.

I was seen as:

• Too strict
• Too demanding
• Too foreign-trained”

But I had seen what worked in the Soviet Union system and beyond.

I knew one thing:

Without discipline, there is no industry.

So I pushed.

Not gently—but firmly

Return as CEO: 1994 after another stint in a state corporation  as CEO

Years later, I returned—not as a consultant, but as CEO.

This time, I had authority.

But more importantly, I had unfinished work.

The transformation had begun earlier—but now it had to be completed.

And the first rule was simple:

Discipline Comes First

Before profits.

Before expansion.

Before modernization.

Discipline.

• Workers report on time
• Proper attire
• Clean workspaces
• Defined procedures
• Accountability at every level

Because without discipline, even the best equipment fails.

With discipline, even limited resources can succeed.

A Lasting Legacy

Today, I am told that the dockyard still uses structured welding procedures.

If that is true, then one small wattoruwa” scribbled into existence has lived on.

Not as a document—but as a mindset.

Final Reflection

From cabbage fields in Orenburg to compressor factories and gas pipelines,and offshore yard in Stavsnger Norway  I learned that systems matter.

But more than systems—people must believe in them.

Sri Lanka does not lack intelligence.

It does not lack resources and guidance 

What it often lacks—is discipline.

And discipline is not taught in speeches.

It is enforced in yards, workshops, and daily work.That was my real job. Not managing ships—but rebuilding attitudes.