Buddhism is introduced to the little island kingdom
(First published in the Sunday Times/ 15th June 2003)
The colonization of the island by a North Indian tribe and the subsequent introduction of Buddhism can be described as the two most significant events in the early history of Sri Lanka. The Buddhist monks who committed them to recorded history, about seven hundred years later, richly embellished the stories relating to these events with legendary details. However, their historical authenticity is well borne out by a profusion of evidence. While the account of the landing of Prince Vijaya and his retinue in the island lends itself to controversy among scholars as regards its actual date and the contemporary historical context, the introduction of Buddhism took place in historically more verifiable circumstances. It was in 247 BC during the reign of the Indian monarch Asoka (269-232 BC).
Emperor Asoka was the grandson of Chandragupta of the Mauryan clan, who reigned over the whole of North India in the last quarter of the fourth century BC. Fascinated by the calm and composed demeanour of a young Buddhist samanera (a novice monk) named Nigrodha, he invited him to the palace and inquired into the teaching of the sage whose disciple he was. The monk's explanation of the Buddha Dhamma appealed to the king, who had been traumatized by the horrendous scale of suffering that he himself had caused to hundreds of thousands of people during his military conquest of Kalinga. He became an ardent Buddhist and with single-minded devotion adopted Buddhist principles in the administration of his far-flung empire, assuming the role of 'father' to his subjects whom he called his 'children'. His edicts inscribed on rock and metal (which can still be seen all over India) communicated royal messages and admonitions; their express purpose was the moral edification and physical well being of his people.
"This astonishing ruler," writes Jawaharlal Nehru in his 'Discovery of India' (1946), "beloved still in India and many other parts of Asia, devoted himself to the spread of Buddha's teaching, to righteousness and goodwill and to public works for the good of the people..."
After embracing Buddhism, Asoka turned his mind from military conquest to righteousness. He sent missionaries to all countries with which India had political and trade links like Sri Lanka, Syria, Egypt and Macedonia. To Sinhaladweepa he sent the Thera Mahinda (Asoka's own son according to popular tradition) and later his daughter Sangamitta, who brought with her a sapling from the Bodhi Tree at Buddha Gaya, under which Prince Siddhartha Gautama attained Enlightenment. This act of sending his own children as missionaries to Sri Lanka indicated that he had special concern for the little island kingdom to the south of his empire.
When the missionaries arrived here their work was facilitated by a number of favourable circumstances. The first was the royal patronage extended to them. There is reason to believe that there had been friendly relations between Emperor Asoka and King Devanampiya Tissa (250-210 BC) of Lanka even before the introduction of Buddhism. The second factor was that the missionaries spoke in a language not very different from the local one, i.e. Sinhala, which was most probably a fusion of the indigenous tongue with the Aryan tongue of the settlers. A third congenial circumstance was the absence of a well-organized religion in the relatively recently established colony, which meant that the new creed met no serious challenge or opposition. Probably the people of Lanka at that time were animists who worshipped local deities and demons. The Buddhist religion did not come into conflict with the indigenous cults because its preachers aimed to instill Buddhist virtues in the people, not to make them abandon their accustomed gods. Finally, the settled lifestyle made possible by the agricultural economy left the Sinhalese enough time for religious activities.
Within two centuries Buddhism spread to every inhabited part of the island. The religious uniformity gave the islanders of diverse tribes and classes a strong sense of unity. It was the common Buddhist values and cultural ideals that the monks instilled in the people that united them into a harmonious society.
The values taught by the monks appealed at least to the more intelligent members of the society. The law of karma was accepted as a more rational explanation of the vicissitudes of life than the mere caprice of gods and devils, and it made them understand that happiness and suffering were the result of their own actions in their present or past births.
The ethical teachings of Buddhism led them away from original barbarous practices and savage ways to a more civilized mode of life. Religious observances such as the Five Precepts gave them a sense of discipline, mental purity and orderliness. This obviously contributed to peace and harmony amongst the people, which eventually led to their material progress as well.
Cultural advancement was a natural concomitant of the conversion of the whole country to Buddhism. There is no evidence to suggest that there was any literary tradition in pre-Buddhist Lanka. The Buddhist scriptures constituted the first literary works that came to our country. The Aryan dialect in which these works were composed was Pali. The Sinhalese Buddhist monks used it for writing books. Borrowings from Pali especially in the areas of religion, ethics and philosophy immensely enriched the Sinhalese language. Buddhist themes and stories provided the subjects for religious and creative works that came to be composed in Sinhalese.
Another important development that came with Buddhism was the art of writing. The earliest inscriptions of Sri Lanka were made in the Brahmin script. The modern Sinhalese alphabet evolved from this system of writing.
The development of an impressive form of architecture was also due to the cultural changes that accompanied the arrival of Buddhism. Stupas and monasteries were prominent among the earliest architectural creations in the island. With the image-house becoming an essential feature of every vihara, the art of sculpture too started to flourish. The Buddhists had not made statues of the Master, in order not to identify Him with the gods of Hinduism; they had instead represented the Buddha by symbols such as the Footprint (Sri Pada), the Wheel of the Law (Dharmachakra) or the Umbrella (Chatra). The distinctive Buddhist art that the Sinhalese developed was inspired by the Indo-Bactrian art that flourished in India after the advent of the Greeks in that country under Alexander the Great (356-323 BC) in the fourth century BC.
The introduction of Buddhism, in which Emperor Asoka, Arahat Mahinda and King Devanampiya Tissa were the key figures, had a seminal influence over the growth of our culture. We believe that this event happened about two thousand three hundred years ago on a full moon day. The Poson Poya day, which this year fell on Saturday June 14, was observed in remembrance of this great event
Showing posts with label Culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Culture. Show all posts
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Language, Education & Civilization
Language, Education & Civilization
Previously published in The Island on 7th Wednesday 2007
To begin at the beginning I think that it is sometimes helpful to occasionally remember our evolutionary animal origin and to contemplate the fact that we can not possibly escape nature however highly advanced or exalted we consider ourselves to be. Watching how other animals learn the behaviours necessary for their survival could perhaps give us certain cues for understanding the complex idea that is embodied in the term ‘education’ in the same way as observing bird flight provided the pioneers of aviation with a useful analogy.
Learning – the process of acquiring the knowledge and skills necessary for physical survival, social living, and life-enjoyment – is natural to the young of all higher animals including humans. In most cases the young are put through a course of training by their parents at the end of which they are turned out into the wide world to fend for themselves. The preparation of young animals for their future life as adults is actually an inchoate teaching-learning situation in which the parent animals educate their young offspring.
The formal human teaching-learning activity usually covered by the term ‘education’, though cognate with the natural way other animals learn, far transcends it and comprehends, in addition to the rudimentary purposes of animal learning, the reclamation of the factual knowledge and the practical skills of the previous generations, the creative augmentation and preservation of new knowledge and skills, plus mind training and moral culture for the benefit and happiness of all humankind.
Among animals the teaching-learning process is mainly initiated and sustained by instinct, apparently without any contribution from reasoning, whereas human learning is a result of both instinct and intellect. In both animals and humans play dominates the mode of training initially. This play mode of education involves the repeated practice of adult activities by the young in an atmosphere of fun and freedom safe from the perils and uncertainties that these activities involve in the actual adult world.
We cannot stretch this analogy (i.e. the comparison between human and animal learning) too far. There is a world of difference between animal learning and human education. Animals do not possess anything comparable to human language that helps record and store knowledge for future generations, and that enables the enrichment of inherited knowledge through individual contributions. As for humans, they can recall the knowledge of their forefathers through records or collective memory, and supplement it with new knowledge that they generate by themselves, and transmit it down generations by means of language.
Among animals the training given before the assumption of adult responsibilities is based on instinctive practice that usually takes the form of play. Kittens, for example, engage in mock hunting by stalking and pouncing on each other in play; their mother sometimes brings them a small animal such as a mouse that she has caught without killing and allows the kittens to play with it. The kittens learn to hunt in this way. That is their grooming for life. They reinforce this initial training by gradually tackling real life situations through trial and error under the supervision of their mother.
In the world of humans the education of the young is not merely instinctive, and is not limited to the development of bodily skills alone. It is infinitely more an intellectual activity than the simple acquisition of muscular skills through the instinctive rehearsal of manoeures in the make-believe-world of play.
We cannot sustain the analogy between animal learning and human learning beyond a very basic point in view of the extreme complexity of the latter process. What makes human learning so complex is fundamentally the use of brain power – rational thinking and creative imagination - for processing information. Humans can gather information, share it with their neighbours, store it in memory or records, retrieve it, and relate it to their current circumstances and experiences, and so on. All this is due to the characteristically human faculty of language.
The sophisticated use of language distinguishes human learning from animal learning. It is true that many higher animals other than humans can be said to use ‘language’ in the sense that they too use certain ‘vocal’ sounds to communicate within their species. Like humans they have a limited number of these sounds. But the big difference is that whereas humans can arrange their vocal sounds and other elements in different patterns to make an infinity of sentences to express an infinity of meanings, animals cannot do this; animals have a finite number of calls to communicate an extremely narrow range of vital information relating to such things as food, sex, danger, etc. Human language has structure, but animal language lacks this feature. This fact has profound implications for any comparison between animal and human learning.
Our earliest ape ancestors must have adopted the same mode of ‘vocal’ communication as other higher animals do even today, and also a similar mode of learning. However, as they evolved over millions of years, they gradually grew out of that stage concurrently with the development of their brain power. It was the advent of language that transformed apes into humans. The growth of the language faculty was obviously not a sudden occurrence. It must have been a gradual process too. With the development of language the pace of human civilization (the development of humans as social beings) quickened. The generation and transmission of knowledge went hand in hand with this, both as result and cause, that is advancing knowledge and advancing civilization contributed to each other.
The movement away from animal status meant a departure from the rudimentary type of learning which was adequate for the bare survival of animals as individuals and as members of their societies. Humans moved on in sophistication while animals remained almost static. Humans must have overcome all those creatures which threatened their supremacy and survival in evolutionary history. Their position today would be unassailable in any conflict with their closest relatives in the animal world.
The physical, mental and social development of humans as a unique species required the collection, amelioration , and dissemination of knowledge within the different communities about the world in general, and about the vitally important crafts and skills, and the collective experiences peculiar to those communities. Language contributed to this process in large measure by being the main medium through which forms of abstract knowledge and practical skills were inherited, improved, and passed on from generation to generation.
It is this language-driven cultural process of the acquisition and transmission of human knowledge, and practical skills, which could be called education, that has propelled humanity to the present level of civilization. (I need hardly point out that I am not talking here about the education of single individuals, but of all humanity as a species.) The sustenance and further sophistication of human civilization is not possible without education. And language is vital for that.
To my mind therefore, education is the universal, language-based intellectual process by which humanity retrieves useful past knowledge of facts and skills, and wisdom from records and communal memory, generates new knowledge through discovery, and preserves it for posterity, while honing further their intellectual powers, and perfecting their actions for the survival, contentment, security and happiness of all, and for the constant betterment of the common human lot.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Nationalism and Communalism
First published in The Island of 20th Wednesday, February 2008
That ‘rabid Sinhala Buddhist nationalism’ is to blame for the ongoing national crisis in our country is treated as an incontrovertible truth by many members of the ‘liberal’ intelligentsia, both local and foreign, who offer comments on the problem. Some even appear to use it as an excuse for condoning LTTE terrorism. In a sense, such views are insignificant because they condemn something that is not there. But they also can do some harm: they mislead the powerful ‘international community’ whose cooperation is indispensable for the resolution of the conflict sooner or later.
Since these analysts and commentators, including the native ones among them, have no intimate knowledge of or familiarity with the ordinary Sinhalese Buddhist masses (due to the communication gap that exists between them), they tend to satisfy themselves with popular generalizations, which do not usually correspond to the reality. But if they had an opportunity to survey the opinions of the ordinary Sinhalese Buddhists – the majority of them are rural villagers – about the current crisis they would have been simply amazed by the latter’s anti-communalism, sense of tolerance, fair play and accommodation towards their minority compatriots, an enlightened attitude shared by the average members of those minority communities.
The ordinary Sinhalese do not even think about an exclusive ownership of the island or of a part of it. What they might say, if they were queried, is that from time immemorial Sri Lanka has been known as their native land, and that they have no other country to call their own; they also believe that they must share it with all the minorities who live with them, and that these minorities must enjoy the same rights and privileges as themselves, not less , not more. There are no traditional homelands in this country. The whole island is the traditional homeland of all the communities, whether majorities or minorities.
It is a gross misrepresentation of the so-called ethnic crisis in Sri Lanka to assert that it is a straight fight between the southern Sinhalese and the northern Tamils. Just as the ordinary Sinhalese do not claim the sole proprietorship of the island or a part of it the ordinary Tamils do not subscribe to the Tamil extremists’ claim that the north and the east constitute their exclusive homeland. In 1995 Tamils formed 9% of the Sri Lankan population, and the Sinhalese 83%. The Tamils live scattered among the other communities all over the island, with a large enough concentration of their population in the north and the east to form majorities in those provinces. In fact, more Tamils live in the south among the Sinhalese than in the north and east. Therefore the term ‘ethnic conflict’ is actually a misnomer. The conflict is between the Sri Lankan state and a group of rebel extremists who demand one-third of the land mass and two-thirds of the coastline for 9% of the population on an ethnic basis.
Some commentators try to reduce the national crisis to an internecine rivalry between those who came to the island first and others who did so later. This is a fallacy, too. Of the two communities Sinhalese and Tamils, whether they came to the island together or at different times, only the Sinhalese can be said to have developed a distinctive civilization in this island., the evidence for which is found in abundance.
There is an attempt in some quarters to explain away Sinhalese nationhood by asserting that the Sinhalese are a hybrid people, and that they have no claim to a distinctive racial identity. The truth is that no race on earth can satisfy the infamous Hitlerite insistence on the ‘purity’ of race, which was associated with the heinous crime of genocide inflicted on the Jews in the 1930’s and 40’s in Europe!
The racial stock of any ethnic community is, more often than not, a composite one with the probable exception of isolated jungle tribes such as the Veddahs of our country or the Pygmy tribe known as the Mbuti of the Democratic Republic of Congo. We don’t normally carry out DNA tests on individuals before we assign them to a particular race or ethnic group! In general acceptance a person’s ethnicity is determined in terms of physical characteristics such as colour of skin, shape of head, facial features and bodily stature, and cultural traits such as language, customs, religious beliefs and traditional modes of behaviour peculiar to a group of people that set them apart from other similar groups. Probably the language spoken by a race is its most vital characteristic. However, the language that is traditionally associated with a racial group also undergoes constant change, but it doesn’t lose its historical identity. The same applies to a race. All races share this quality of illusory constancy in flux much as a river that is given an unchanging identity over millennia perhaps in spite of the fact that its physical composition changes every fraction of a second.
The division of human societies in terms of shared racial and cultural characteristics is essential for the physical survival and overall advancement of the whole human race. We still talk about the awesome achievements of the ancient Chinese, Egyptians, Greeks, Persians, and Romans, etc. They accomplished those astonishing feats of human endeavour as races through the refinement of their racially inherited knowledge and skills. The assertion of one’s racial identity and its meaningful expression for the common good of all humanity is a good thing. These divisions need not be fences that keep one group of people from another. Going beyond racial boundaries to reach out to the rest of the humanity is better, but the ‘Ascent of Man’ (though the very phrase smacks of gender-bias) is still well short of the level of sophistication which would make such ideal cosmopolitanism possible. Until humanity attains to that stage of development we must be content to live with our racial divisions. Yet we need not, nay must not, be so retrogressive as to condemn ourselves to racialism ( the fanatical belief in the superiority of one’s own race) that leads to ruinous hate and rivalry among people.
Racialism is not a common characteristic of the Sinhalese people contrary to what certain critics would have us believe. The Sinhalese are self-effacing even in their everyday appearance. Their everyday dress has no special features that reveal their race or religion. (The so-called ‘national dress’ – a long white ‘banian’ for the upper body and a ‘verti’ for the lower part - adopted and popularized by Mr SWRD Bandaranaike in 1956, later adopted particularly by politicians of both the main parties, and also by other community leaders as a means of identifying themselves with the ‘common man’, is today called, among ordinary people, the ‘kapati suit’ meaning the ‘garb of a cheat’!). What is more, they do not put any marks on their bodies to distinguish themselves from others. Their names do not always reveal their ethnicity either.
Even some apparently impartial commentators argue that the LTTE terrorism that has ravaged our country over the past quarter of a century was provoked by the essentially 20th century phenomenon of ‘rabid Sinhala Buddhist nationalism’. Nothing can be further from the truth. The division between the Sinhalese majority and the minorities was created and exploited by the British colonial rulers in pursuit of their own ends. And the Sinhala Buddhist nationalism which inspired and spearheaded the freedom struggle was unjustifiably identified with raw communalism and made a bugbear of by some minority politicians. The members of the majority race were required to black out their true history as it potentially hurt communal feelings of others. I learned from one of my teachers that the popular children’s novel (1939) by the Englishman Denis Clark entitled ‘Golden Island’ was banned in schools in the 40’s because it is woven round the story of the warrior king Dutu Gemunu (who ruled Lanka from 161 to 137 BCE). In the recent past, the teaching of history as a school subject was stopped for the same reason.
The Sinhala Buddhist consciousness is as old as the history of the island. In ancient times our country was known to the outside world as the Sinhaladvipa, (‘the country of the Sinhalese’ from which Seylan or Ceylon derives), Taprobane (from ‘Tambapanni/Tamraparni’), or Serendip (Serendib as Arabs called it from ‘Swarnadipa’ ‘the Golden Island’). The map of the island drawn by Ptolemy the Greek astronomer and geographer in the second century CE marks Anuradagama (later Anuradhapura) as the central city. It had been founded, according to one tradition, by a companion of Prince Vijaya, the legendary founder of the Sinhalese race. This national consciousness survived many vicissitudes of their fortunes amidst internal and external threats until the arrival of the Portuguese in 1505. Our country suffered foreign domination in some parts or in the totality of its territory for the next 450 years, but the nationalist spirit didn’t die. For the Sinhalese, independence from the British in 1948 meant a restoration of their long lost national sovereignty over the country. This independence, they thought, was however not only for them; it was also for the minorities who were their partners in nation building. But the minority groups (or more correctly certain members of the elite who claimed to represent them, although they , like their counterparts in the majority race, were alienated from their own people) were not too ready to appreciate or willing to accommodate these sentiments, calling into question the trustworthiness of Sinhalese politicians in the matter of sharing political power equitably after independence from the British.
Although the dominant group of pioneer national leaders who came from all communities did not put a premium on internecine racial divisions, hoping to forge one multiethnic ‘Ceylonese national identity’ in the earlier stages of the independence movement, ethnic tensions started coming to the fore when a trend towards the achievement of self-rule emerged in the first half of the 20th century. This was mainly due (not unlike the situation today) to the wrong interpretation of Sinhalese Buddhist political ideals which were not properly articulated or understood by the local politicians who came almost exclusively from the privileged westernized elite. Even those among them who were sympathetic to Sinhalese nationalist sentiments believed that these would divide the ‘Ceylonese’, and hence chose to ignore them while focusing on what they considered ‘ more urgent matters’.
To go back a little in history, after the amalagamation of the Kandyan kingdom with the rest of the island in 1815 the British started consolidating their rule. They introduced occasional reforms, which were primarily meant to establish an efficient trouble-free imperial administration, and only secondarily to promote the welfare of the subjects. The first Legislative Council (1833) consisted of six unofficial members nominated by the Governor – one member to represent the Sinhalese, one for the Tamils, and four for Europeans. This lasted for the next seventy-five years, until in 1909 in response to revived agitation for constitutional reforms, the number of the unofficial members was raised to eight – three for Europeans, two for Sinhalese, one for Tamils, one for Burghers, and one for the Muslims (Think of the ‘improved’ communal balance in the Legislative Council, ignoring the fact of its powerlessness to influence government policy in actual practice: three for European interests, three for minorities, and only two for the Sinhalese!)
Although the membership of the Legislative Council allowed little participation in actually determining or influencing government policy, the deliberate imbalance in racial representation that it embodied showed the more favoured position of the minorities as opposed to the majority Sinhalese. The imperialists preyed on the country, and left the scavenging job to others, including the comprador class (the elite formed of members from all the communities).
Any move towards redressing this anomaly was met with apprehension by the minorities. However, as a result of joint demands made by the Ceylon National Association based in Colombo and the Jaffna Association, the Manning Reforms of the early 1920’s introduced a form of territorial (instead of communal) representation, which enlarged the Legislative Council giving the Sinhalese a decisive edge over the minorities in the legislature.
The fears and suspicions of the minorities aggravated when the Ceylon National Congress of Sir Ponnambalam Arunachalam began pressing for self government, because the minorities concluded that if the demand for self-government was granted, then an excessively powerful Sinhalese majority would be ensconced in a position of perpetual domination over them. Attempts to allay these fears, such as the proposal to allocate a special seat for Tamils of the Western Province (where there was a concentration of them engaged in official and business activity), actually worsened the disagreements. Eventually, Tamils under the Jaffna Association left the Ceylon National Congress despite the concerted efforts of leaders like D.S. Senanayake, A. Mahadea and F.Molamure to stop their withdrawal.
When the Donoughmore Commissioners who arrived in the island in the late 1920’s offered universal suffrage based on territorial representation, Tamils opposed it arguing that this would give the Sinhalese majority an advantage over the minorities. But the Commissioners went ahead with their reforms. The Legislative Council was replaced with a State Council. The first State Council elections under the Donoughmore Constitution were held in June 1931. The Jaffna Tamils in general boycotted the polls, but later gave up the boycott, and got elected to the State Council in fresh elections in 1934. The price that they had to pay for the initial boycott was that they forfeited their chance of joining the Board of Ministers. The State Council experience provided Mr D.S. Senanayake with an opportunity to show his abilities as an efficient manager. He was a committed nationalist opposed to colonialism, communism, and communalism, and firmly believed in, and worked with dedication for, the ideal of a multiethnic united Ceylonese nation.
But some Tamil politicians thought that the Sinhalese majority would not allow the special privileges they had enjoyed under the British to continue, and wanted to somehow check what they considered the emerging Sinhalese majoritarian ascendancy. Mr G.G.Ponnambalam came out with his outrageous 50-50 proposition in the early 1940’s when the Soulbury Constitution for an independent Ceylon was being mooted : that is, fifty seats in the legislature for the majority, and fifty for the minorities, and also the ministerial positions to be allocated on the same basis! Simply, this would have violated the very basic democratic principle of equality, because, the minorities being only about 20% , and the majority Sinhalese 80%, it would mean that one member of a minority was equivalent to four Sinhalese! Yet the Sinhalese are still condemned as communalists.
Mr D.S. Senanayake did not approve of Mr S.W.R.D.Bandaranaike’s Sinhala Maha Sabha of 1937 for obvious reasons, though it could be seen as a parallel development to the communal line of the minorities that gradually became marked in the decades preceding independence.
Had the minority leaders, especially the Tamils, and certain less wise Sinhalese politicians acted in the broadminded, democratic, statesmanlike , non-racialist way that Mr D.S. Senanayake did in responding to the progressive reforms towards self-rule gradually exacted from the British colonial administration over a period of more than one hundred years from 1833 to 1948, an achievement made by the sincere efforts of a galaxy of patriotic freedom fighters from all communities, seeds of division between the majority and the minorities would not have been sown, and the country would not have been condemned to taste the bitter poisonous fruits of communal politics that we are reaping today.
Rohana R. Wasala
That ‘rabid Sinhala Buddhist nationalism’ is to blame for the ongoing national crisis in our country is treated as an incontrovertible truth by many members of the ‘liberal’ intelligentsia, both local and foreign, who offer comments on the problem. Some even appear to use it as an excuse for condoning LTTE terrorism. In a sense, such views are insignificant because they condemn something that is not there. But they also can do some harm: they mislead the powerful ‘international community’ whose cooperation is indispensable for the resolution of the conflict sooner or later.
Since these analysts and commentators, including the native ones among them, have no intimate knowledge of or familiarity with the ordinary Sinhalese Buddhist masses (due to the communication gap that exists between them), they tend to satisfy themselves with popular generalizations, which do not usually correspond to the reality. But if they had an opportunity to survey the opinions of the ordinary Sinhalese Buddhists – the majority of them are rural villagers – about the current crisis they would have been simply amazed by the latter’s anti-communalism, sense of tolerance, fair play and accommodation towards their minority compatriots, an enlightened attitude shared by the average members of those minority communities.
The ordinary Sinhalese do not even think about an exclusive ownership of the island or of a part of it. What they might say, if they were queried, is that from time immemorial Sri Lanka has been known as their native land, and that they have no other country to call their own; they also believe that they must share it with all the minorities who live with them, and that these minorities must enjoy the same rights and privileges as themselves, not less , not more. There are no traditional homelands in this country. The whole island is the traditional homeland of all the communities, whether majorities or minorities.
It is a gross misrepresentation of the so-called ethnic crisis in Sri Lanka to assert that it is a straight fight between the southern Sinhalese and the northern Tamils. Just as the ordinary Sinhalese do not claim the sole proprietorship of the island or a part of it the ordinary Tamils do not subscribe to the Tamil extremists’ claim that the north and the east constitute their exclusive homeland. In 1995 Tamils formed 9% of the Sri Lankan population, and the Sinhalese 83%. The Tamils live scattered among the other communities all over the island, with a large enough concentration of their population in the north and the east to form majorities in those provinces. In fact, more Tamils live in the south among the Sinhalese than in the north and east. Therefore the term ‘ethnic conflict’ is actually a misnomer. The conflict is between the Sri Lankan state and a group of rebel extremists who demand one-third of the land mass and two-thirds of the coastline for 9% of the population on an ethnic basis.
Some commentators try to reduce the national crisis to an internecine rivalry between those who came to the island first and others who did so later. This is a fallacy, too. Of the two communities Sinhalese and Tamils, whether they came to the island together or at different times, only the Sinhalese can be said to have developed a distinctive civilization in this island., the evidence for which is found in abundance.
There is an attempt in some quarters to explain away Sinhalese nationhood by asserting that the Sinhalese are a hybrid people, and that they have no claim to a distinctive racial identity. The truth is that no race on earth can satisfy the infamous Hitlerite insistence on the ‘purity’ of race, which was associated with the heinous crime of genocide inflicted on the Jews in the 1930’s and 40’s in Europe!
The racial stock of any ethnic community is, more often than not, a composite one with the probable exception of isolated jungle tribes such as the Veddahs of our country or the Pygmy tribe known as the Mbuti of the Democratic Republic of Congo. We don’t normally carry out DNA tests on individuals before we assign them to a particular race or ethnic group! In general acceptance a person’s ethnicity is determined in terms of physical characteristics such as colour of skin, shape of head, facial features and bodily stature, and cultural traits such as language, customs, religious beliefs and traditional modes of behaviour peculiar to a group of people that set them apart from other similar groups. Probably the language spoken by a race is its most vital characteristic. However, the language that is traditionally associated with a racial group also undergoes constant change, but it doesn’t lose its historical identity. The same applies to a race. All races share this quality of illusory constancy in flux much as a river that is given an unchanging identity over millennia perhaps in spite of the fact that its physical composition changes every fraction of a second.
The division of human societies in terms of shared racial and cultural characteristics is essential for the physical survival and overall advancement of the whole human race. We still talk about the awesome achievements of the ancient Chinese, Egyptians, Greeks, Persians, and Romans, etc. They accomplished those astonishing feats of human endeavour as races through the refinement of their racially inherited knowledge and skills. The assertion of one’s racial identity and its meaningful expression for the common good of all humanity is a good thing. These divisions need not be fences that keep one group of people from another. Going beyond racial boundaries to reach out to the rest of the humanity is better, but the ‘Ascent of Man’ (though the very phrase smacks of gender-bias) is still well short of the level of sophistication which would make such ideal cosmopolitanism possible. Until humanity attains to that stage of development we must be content to live with our racial divisions. Yet we need not, nay must not, be so retrogressive as to condemn ourselves to racialism ( the fanatical belief in the superiority of one’s own race) that leads to ruinous hate and rivalry among people.
Racialism is not a common characteristic of the Sinhalese people contrary to what certain critics would have us believe. The Sinhalese are self-effacing even in their everyday appearance. Their everyday dress has no special features that reveal their race or religion. (The so-called ‘national dress’ – a long white ‘banian’ for the upper body and a ‘verti’ for the lower part - adopted and popularized by Mr SWRD Bandaranaike in 1956, later adopted particularly by politicians of both the main parties, and also by other community leaders as a means of identifying themselves with the ‘common man’, is today called, among ordinary people, the ‘kapati suit’ meaning the ‘garb of a cheat’!). What is more, they do not put any marks on their bodies to distinguish themselves from others. Their names do not always reveal their ethnicity either.
Even some apparently impartial commentators argue that the LTTE terrorism that has ravaged our country over the past quarter of a century was provoked by the essentially 20th century phenomenon of ‘rabid Sinhala Buddhist nationalism’. Nothing can be further from the truth. The division between the Sinhalese majority and the minorities was created and exploited by the British colonial rulers in pursuit of their own ends. And the Sinhala Buddhist nationalism which inspired and spearheaded the freedom struggle was unjustifiably identified with raw communalism and made a bugbear of by some minority politicians. The members of the majority race were required to black out their true history as it potentially hurt communal feelings of others. I learned from one of my teachers that the popular children’s novel (1939) by the Englishman Denis Clark entitled ‘Golden Island’ was banned in schools in the 40’s because it is woven round the story of the warrior king Dutu Gemunu (who ruled Lanka from 161 to 137 BCE). In the recent past, the teaching of history as a school subject was stopped for the same reason.
The Sinhala Buddhist consciousness is as old as the history of the island. In ancient times our country was known to the outside world as the Sinhaladvipa, (‘the country of the Sinhalese’ from which Seylan or Ceylon derives), Taprobane (from ‘Tambapanni/Tamraparni’), or Serendip (Serendib as Arabs called it from ‘Swarnadipa’ ‘the Golden Island’). The map of the island drawn by Ptolemy the Greek astronomer and geographer in the second century CE marks Anuradagama (later Anuradhapura) as the central city. It had been founded, according to one tradition, by a companion of Prince Vijaya, the legendary founder of the Sinhalese race. This national consciousness survived many vicissitudes of their fortunes amidst internal and external threats until the arrival of the Portuguese in 1505. Our country suffered foreign domination in some parts or in the totality of its territory for the next 450 years, but the nationalist spirit didn’t die. For the Sinhalese, independence from the British in 1948 meant a restoration of their long lost national sovereignty over the country. This independence, they thought, was however not only for them; it was also for the minorities who were their partners in nation building. But the minority groups (or more correctly certain members of the elite who claimed to represent them, although they , like their counterparts in the majority race, were alienated from their own people) were not too ready to appreciate or willing to accommodate these sentiments, calling into question the trustworthiness of Sinhalese politicians in the matter of sharing political power equitably after independence from the British.
Although the dominant group of pioneer national leaders who came from all communities did not put a premium on internecine racial divisions, hoping to forge one multiethnic ‘Ceylonese national identity’ in the earlier stages of the independence movement, ethnic tensions started coming to the fore when a trend towards the achievement of self-rule emerged in the first half of the 20th century. This was mainly due (not unlike the situation today) to the wrong interpretation of Sinhalese Buddhist political ideals which were not properly articulated or understood by the local politicians who came almost exclusively from the privileged westernized elite. Even those among them who were sympathetic to Sinhalese nationalist sentiments believed that these would divide the ‘Ceylonese’, and hence chose to ignore them while focusing on what they considered ‘ more urgent matters’.
To go back a little in history, after the amalagamation of the Kandyan kingdom with the rest of the island in 1815 the British started consolidating their rule. They introduced occasional reforms, which were primarily meant to establish an efficient trouble-free imperial administration, and only secondarily to promote the welfare of the subjects. The first Legislative Council (1833) consisted of six unofficial members nominated by the Governor – one member to represent the Sinhalese, one for the Tamils, and four for Europeans. This lasted for the next seventy-five years, until in 1909 in response to revived agitation for constitutional reforms, the number of the unofficial members was raised to eight – three for Europeans, two for Sinhalese, one for Tamils, one for Burghers, and one for the Muslims (Think of the ‘improved’ communal balance in the Legislative Council, ignoring the fact of its powerlessness to influence government policy in actual practice: three for European interests, three for minorities, and only two for the Sinhalese!)
Although the membership of the Legislative Council allowed little participation in actually determining or influencing government policy, the deliberate imbalance in racial representation that it embodied showed the more favoured position of the minorities as opposed to the majority Sinhalese. The imperialists preyed on the country, and left the scavenging job to others, including the comprador class (the elite formed of members from all the communities).
Any move towards redressing this anomaly was met with apprehension by the minorities. However, as a result of joint demands made by the Ceylon National Association based in Colombo and the Jaffna Association, the Manning Reforms of the early 1920’s introduced a form of territorial (instead of communal) representation, which enlarged the Legislative Council giving the Sinhalese a decisive edge over the minorities in the legislature.
The fears and suspicions of the minorities aggravated when the Ceylon National Congress of Sir Ponnambalam Arunachalam began pressing for self government, because the minorities concluded that if the demand for self-government was granted, then an excessively powerful Sinhalese majority would be ensconced in a position of perpetual domination over them. Attempts to allay these fears, such as the proposal to allocate a special seat for Tamils of the Western Province (where there was a concentration of them engaged in official and business activity), actually worsened the disagreements. Eventually, Tamils under the Jaffna Association left the Ceylon National Congress despite the concerted efforts of leaders like D.S. Senanayake, A. Mahadea and F.Molamure to stop their withdrawal.
When the Donoughmore Commissioners who arrived in the island in the late 1920’s offered universal suffrage based on territorial representation, Tamils opposed it arguing that this would give the Sinhalese majority an advantage over the minorities. But the Commissioners went ahead with their reforms. The Legislative Council was replaced with a State Council. The first State Council elections under the Donoughmore Constitution were held in June 1931. The Jaffna Tamils in general boycotted the polls, but later gave up the boycott, and got elected to the State Council in fresh elections in 1934. The price that they had to pay for the initial boycott was that they forfeited their chance of joining the Board of Ministers. The State Council experience provided Mr D.S. Senanayake with an opportunity to show his abilities as an efficient manager. He was a committed nationalist opposed to colonialism, communism, and communalism, and firmly believed in, and worked with dedication for, the ideal of a multiethnic united Ceylonese nation.
But some Tamil politicians thought that the Sinhalese majority would not allow the special privileges they had enjoyed under the British to continue, and wanted to somehow check what they considered the emerging Sinhalese majoritarian ascendancy. Mr G.G.Ponnambalam came out with his outrageous 50-50 proposition in the early 1940’s when the Soulbury Constitution for an independent Ceylon was being mooted : that is, fifty seats in the legislature for the majority, and fifty for the minorities, and also the ministerial positions to be allocated on the same basis! Simply, this would have violated the very basic democratic principle of equality, because, the minorities being only about 20% , and the majority Sinhalese 80%, it would mean that one member of a minority was equivalent to four Sinhalese! Yet the Sinhalese are still condemned as communalists.
Mr D.S. Senanayake did not approve of Mr S.W.R.D.Bandaranaike’s Sinhala Maha Sabha of 1937 for obvious reasons, though it could be seen as a parallel development to the communal line of the minorities that gradually became marked in the decades preceding independence.
Had the minority leaders, especially the Tamils, and certain less wise Sinhalese politicians acted in the broadminded, democratic, statesmanlike , non-racialist way that Mr D.S. Senanayake did in responding to the progressive reforms towards self-rule gradually exacted from the British colonial administration over a period of more than one hundred years from 1833 to 1948, an achievement made by the sincere efforts of a galaxy of patriotic freedom fighters from all communities, seeds of division between the majority and the minorities would not have been sown, and the country would not have been condemned to taste the bitter poisonous fruits of communal politics that we are reaping today.
Rohana R. Wasala
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Aba - the mega Sinhala movie
Previously published in Satmag/The Island on 6th September 2008
Aba, the mega Sinhala movie directed by the versatile filmmaker Jackson Anthony, constitutes an impressive cinematic adventure for both its creators and its audiences. The film is a historical epic based on an independent and informed reconstruction of the Pandukabhaya story found in The Great Chronicle (the Mahavansa) of the Sinhalese. While providing a valuable opportunity for a delightful engagement of the aesthetic sense of the many local and foreign cinema-goers that it is sure to attract, it will boost the morale of the Sri Lankan people by dramatizing a most plausible explanation of their truly heroic origins, controversial though this may prove.
However, I personally believe that Jackson Anthony is as much concerned with maintaining a reasonable balance between the commercial success of his film and its artistic excellence as with ensuring, within permissible limits, the historical accuracy and verisimilitude of the details presented, and that, if this is truly the case, there is nothing blameworthy about it.
Aba can legitimately claim the status of epic cinema. Dealing with the childhood and adolescence (the early years of life from birth to the age of sixteen) of the title hero the film presents human drama on a magnificent scale. Its production costs are a staggering (for a developing country like ours) 60 million rupees. The filmmaker has gone to great lengths in his attempt to choose the right location for shooting his epic venture, and to construct the appropriate sets so as to create the feel and atmosphere of the 5th century BCE Lanka. The historical setting is rendered further captivating by the addition of rich fantasy. The drama that is acted out against this backdrop is an imperial conflict (because it concerns a matter of royal succession) that determines the course of the history of a whole country and its people. This central conflict is between Pandu Aba, the royal prince condemned to death even before his birth, and his murderous challengers who are none other than his own uncles. (In media releases before the launch of the film Jackson Anthony was careful to stress the fact that this conflict was not between two ethnic groups, but between two clans or tribes for supremacy.) To create an authentic representation of the progress of events resulting from this discord the filmmaker uses a very large cast of ordinary people in supporting roles with the main cast comprising well over ten actors of established fame. These epic features of the film are complemented by an enchanting musical score by a reputed musician and fascinating dance sequences by an acclaimed choreographer.
Drama in this case involves the precarious survival of Aba the young prince in the face of repeated attempts made on his life by his uncles hell-bent on murdering him in order to thwart the course of destiny predicted for their nephew that he would, on coming of age, kill all of them to become king; but the protection afforded by his natural and supernatural guardians makes possible the successful completion of his education and military training under the Brahmin tutor Pandula.
The clash that occupies the whole film is that between Pandu Aba who represents the dominant native tribe the Yakkhas and his uncles the brothers of his mother who are actually considered as foreign invaders. Pandu Aba’s miraculous escape and his triumphal emergence out of a dangerous childhood into promising adulthood as a patriotic warrior in the end mark the resolution of the central conflict. Historically, the real struggle between the uncles and the nephew starts only after this and is outside the scope of the film Aba. However, the events covered in the film determine the direction of the nation’s history, which confirms the epic character of Aba the movie.
For most non-Sri Lankans the film’s appeal may be almost entirely due to its high cinematic quality, its magical fantasy, spectacle, music, and pageantry. Local audiences, however, will find something strongly inspiring in it in addition to its unmistakable art. The excellent quality of the film results from the effortless assimilation of its central message into the complex art that it bodies forth. It is because of this that they walk out of the cinemas after the show with their minds imbued with a sense of pride in being native to this country.
It is ennobling for us to realize that we have a far more heroic, honourable ancestry than the traditionally claimed ‘Aryan’ roots (though the ‘Hela’ language most probably acquired its Indo-European character as a result of north Indian influence including conquest). The founders of our nation stood up to foreign invaders from India and prevailed. Pandukabhaya (Pandu Aba) was the heroic warrior prince who saved the country from continued foreign domination and brought the various tribes together to forge a single nation.
This, of course, runs counter to the Mahavansa tradition according to which Prince Vijaya from north India was the progenitor of the Sinhalese race. What Jackson Anthony has in effect done is a kind of ‘deconstructing’ (to use the term in an informal sense) of the Pandukabhaya account of the Mahavansa.
There cannot be any doubt in the minds of those who have done even a cursory reading of the Mahavansa that its author Thera Mahanama meant it to be a record of what was then popularly believed to be the history of the island from the arrival of the north Indian conqueror to the 5th century CE when the book was composed in fulfillment of a royal commission given by King Dhatusena. It is true that it could be regarded as a work of literature: a poem in the Pali language conforming to the rules of a specific literary genre that originated in India; it can also be described as a historical religious poem that enumerates the services of the pious monarchs of Lanka to the Buddhist church.
However, the Mahavansa cannot be dismissed as mere fiction. It is a sophisticated work that grew out of previous similar works and contemporary oral traditions as the author himself hints at the beginning. When shorn of literary embellishments and other elements of poetic license – determined in part most probably by deliberate design as the work was commissioned by the king in a time of trouble due to external threats to the state, the Mahavansa is revealed to have a solid factual base. With all its shortcomings as history the Mahavansa remains a cherished national monument.
In the opinion of a fair number of authoritative scholars the details of the Pandukabhaya legend in the Mahavansa suggest the likelihood that there was a struggle between the native royals and the successors of the conqueror Vijaya, who were Indian aliens.
In prelaunch comments on Aba in the media Jackson Anthony has made his patriotic goal clear: to serve the country of his birth by providing “a cinematic insight into the perennial question that has plagued the Mahavansa”. The question relates to the mystery about the identity of Pandukabhaya’s father.
Jackson Anthony the historian explains for us the genealogy of Dutugemunu, the warrior prince from Ruhuna who rid the country of foreign rule in the 2nd century BCE thus: Dutugemunu’s father was Kavan Tissa, Kavan Tissa’s Gothabhaya, Gothabhaya’s Yathala Tissa, Yathala Tissa’s Mahanaga, Mahanaga’s Mutasiva, and Mutasiva’s Pandukabhaya, and poses the question as to who Pandukabhaya’s father was.
The filmmaker’s self-assigned patriotic mission is, as stated above, to stimulate a creative insight into the question through the medium of cinema. Says Jackson Anthony, “In this endeavour we shall strive to reawaken the origins of the illustrious Royal Dynasty of the Ruhuna, which is shrouded in mystery and has been a subject of great debate and controversy. As is fashionable among some academic and scholarly circles, it is inappropriate to consider as myths, the stories or legends revealing the birth of a nation, be they orally carried or recorded. The enduring historic and human relationship ingrained in those legends, tales or stories, have a timeless and universal value. We are strongly persuaded to believe that our cinematic effort to bring forth this exposition involving an epochal event, (the) birth and the childhood of Pandukabhaya that occurred about 2300 years ago in the history of this nation – will help instill a great measure of positive thinking into our present-day society whose consciousness has been unremittingly ravaged by centuries of colonial bondage and such other disconcerting experiences”.
Although there is a gap of sixteen centuries between the Mahavansa and the film Aba, in terms of topicality in their respective periods they have great affinity with each other. The Mahavansa was composed when the country was facing the threat of foreign invasion. The film Aba has a similar relationship to the current situation in the country embattled with a separatist terrorism. Hence both are of great national significance. In spite or rather because of this there is the possibility of adverse criticism leveled against Jackson Anthony’s attempt as being an exercise in tribalism, as it is usual in Sri Lanka nowadays for any talk of patriotism to be reviled as an advocacy of racism. However, there is nothing in the film that any section of the Sri Lankan community could take exception to, for it speaks for the whole country.
Turning now to the entertainment aspect, the artistes and the technical staff should be commended for a job well done. Malani Fonseka (as Bhaddakachchayana, the Sakyan princess who is brought to Lanka to be consecrated queen to King Panduvasudeva), Ravindra Randeniya (Brahmin Pandula who trains Pandu Aba), Sabitha Perera (Unmaada Chitthra, the last and eleventh child, and the only girl born to Bhaddakachchayana), Kanchana Kodituwakku (Diga Gamini who secretly visits the well-guarded Chitthra), and Neil Alles (Panduvasudeva, the third and youngest son of King Vijaya’s brother Sumitta, sent to Lanka to succeed Vijaya as the latter had no son of his own to be his heir) – all these act with a clear conception of their roles. Bimal Jayakody and Wasantha Moragoda play convincingly the deeply emotional roles of the two apparently very popular Yaksha generals Chitthra Raja and Kalawela put to death by Panduvasudeva for failure to protect Unmaada Chitthra being secret allies of Diga Gamini. The young duo Saumya Liyanage and Dulani Anuradha – obviously well trained in fighting and dancing - bring to life the roles of Habara and Gumbaka Butha who are entrusted the task of conveying the royal baby to Doramandalawa, by putting up a spirited performance. Jackson Anthony’s son Sajitha Anutthara plays with skill the title role of Aba, Pandukabhaya. Music is by Nadeeka Guruge, photography by Suminda Weerasinghe and choreography by Chandana Weerasinghe. The lyrics are by Professor Sunil Ariyaratne.
I wish to reserve special praise for Jackson Anthony for his rare creativity and unmatched versatility. The common English idiom ‘Jack of all trades (master of none)’ usually applied to a person who can do many different jobs, but none of them so well, could be given an absolutely positive twist in the case of our Jackson Anthony thus: ‘A Jack of all trades, and master of many’. He is an actor, a director, a singer, a scholar, a scriptwriter, a novelist, a lyricist, an explorer, a traveler, and a communicator par excellence.
We are lucky to be able to revisit our historical origins in his company.
Rohana R. Wasala
Sunday, July 5, 2009
The Kandy Esala Perahera
First published in The Daily News on Friday 3rd August 2001
The period July-August (Esala-Nikini in the traditional Sinhalese calendar) is the Esala Perahera season in Sri Lanka. The Sinhalese term 'perahera' means a train of musicians, dancers, acrobats and other performers usually accompanied by a number of elephants parading the streets in celebration of a religious or secular person or event. During this period Esala Peraheras are held in many places of worship. Among these the Kandy Esala Perahera occupies the foremost place because the Sri Dalada Maligawa - The Temple of the Tooth Relic - is located there and also because it was the last capital of the Kandyan Kingdom.
The Kandy Esala Perahera is held in honour of the Tooth Relic and the four guardian deities Natha, Vishnu, Kataragama and Pattini. It therefore consists of five components: the Maligawa perahera followed in order by those of the Natha Vishnu, Kataragama and Pattini devalas (temples) situated in the neighbourhood of the Maligawa.
The Dalada perahera, the main part of the Kandy Esala Perahera, has a long history. It dates from the time that the Tooth Relic of the Buddha was brought to Sri Lanka. This most precious object of veneration among the Sri Lankan Buddhists was carried from Kalinga in India to Anuradhapura in Sri Lanka in the ninth year of the reign of King Kit Siri Mevan (304-331 CE), who was a contemporary of the great Indian emperor Samudragupta. The Tooth Reilc, which was brought concealed in the tresses of Princess Hemamala King of Kalinga’s daughter), she and her husband Prince Danta travelling disguised as ascetics, was housed in a specially built shrine within the outer walls of the Thuparama, in the vicinity of the royal palace. King Kit Siri Mevan initiated an annual celebration in which the Tooth Relic was carried in a procession through the streets of Anuradhapura to the Abhayagiri Monastery.
As a result of the security of the state being threatened by invaders, the seat of government was moved from place to place and with it the Tooth Relic. By the twelfth century a tradition had evolved according to which the custodian of the Tooth Relic had the right to sovereignty over the island.
The Tooth Relic continues to be housed in Kandy, which was the last royal capital of the Sinhalese. The Dalada Maligawa Perahera harks back to the Dalkada festival appointed by King Kit Siri Mevan about 1700 years ago.
Another historical precedent to the Kandy Esala Perahera is said to be according to popular belief, the victory parades that King Gajabahu the First (174-196 CE) ordered in the wake of a successful invasion of South India, something disputed by scholars for lack of corroborative historical evidence.
It was King Vimaladharmasuriya the First (1592-1604 CE) who ceremonially installed the Tooth Relic in Kandy. The Relic had previously been hidden away in various secret locations in the Kandyan Kingdom for safety.
Under the Nayakkar rulers in the eighteenth century the Kandy Esala Perahera assumed a strongly Hindu character, the ceremonies being conducted mainly in order to propitiate the gods of the Hindu pantheon. However, it was another great Nayakkar ruler, King Kirti Sri Rajasinghe (1747-1781), who brought about a revival of Buddhism and Buddhist education in the Kandyan Kingdom with the help of Venerable Velivitiye Sri Saranankara. He restored the Higher Ordination (Upasampada) ceremony in Sri Lanka by inviting Buddhist monks from Siam for the purpose. Venerable Upali, who headed the Siamese Buddhist mission, expressed his profound disappointment with the Kandy Perahera being dedicated to Hinduism instead of Buddhism in a predominantly Buddhist country like Sri Lanka. The king listened to the monk's words and took steps to transform the Perahera into a mainly Buddhist festival. This was the beginning of the Kandy Esala Perahera as we see it today.
'Kap situweema' (planting 'kap') is the first ritual that is performed in preparation for the Perahera. Certain specific traditional details are observed in this connection. First a young 'jack' tree is selected and its neighbourhood is cleared and cleaned. The tree is sprinkled with water perfumed with sandalwood scent. An offering is made of nine kinds of flowers; an oil lamp with nine wicks is then lighted. The priest of the Maha Vishnu Temple recites his prayers to all the deities, after which the jack tree is felled. The trunk is then cut into four separate pieces. (The 'milk' or the latex that flows is regarded as a symbol of prosperity.) These four pieces are taken to the four 'devales', i.e. one to each temple. Each piece of the jack tree ('kap') is then planted under a canopy decorated with leaves, flowers and fruits in the temple premises dedicated to each deity. This is what is known as 'kap situweema'. The ritual is performed at an auspicious moment decided by astrologers.
Fifteen days of Perahera follow. During the first five days the perahera is held within the precincts of each temple; then five 'kumbal' peraheras and five 'randoli' peraheras are held outside the temples. All these peraheras take place in the night. Of these the five 'randoli' (golden planaquin) peraheras are the most spectacular and it is to see these that the largest crowds throng the streets of Kandy.
A group of men cracking whips lead the Maligawa Perahera. This serves to herald the arrival of the procession and to clear a path for it. Next come some men bearing flags representing the various provinces of the then Kandyan Kingdom. The elephant that follows these carries on its back a Buddhist flag, which shows that the perahera is a mainly Buddhist event.
Fourth comes the 'peramunarala' on the back of an elephant. He carries an ola leaf book wrapped in a piece of white cloth. This is immediately followed by the 'hewisi' band of the Maligawa led by its four official tom-tom beaters. The 'Gajanayake Nilame' (the official responsible for the elephants taking part in the perahera) wielding a goad rides on an elephant next. The brightest, most outstanding feature of the perahera is 'Raja', the Maligawa Tusker carrying the relic casket. This casket does not contain the actual Tooth Relic (which is too august an object to be taken around so frequently), but it receives the homage due to the sacred relic from the watching crowds. The majestic Maligawa Tusker is flanked by two other companion elephants. 
Following the relic casket marches the 'Diyawadane Nilame' (the lay custodian and the chief administrator of the Dalada Maligawa) amidst a troupe of dancers and drummers.
The other four temple peraheras follow in the aforesaid order. The whole spectacle takes more than three hours. It constitutes a memorable cultural pageant that integrates the Buddhist and Hindu ritual practices. At the end of the last 'randoli' perahera the Maligawa Perahera enters the 'Adahana Maluwa' and stops there. This tradition is in remembrance of the fact that King Vimaladharmasuriya I, on his way from Delgamuwa to Kandy carrying the Sacred Tooth Relic, stayed the night on this spot, having temporarily deposited the Relic in the Gedige Shrine there, before ceremonially proceeding with it to his palace the next day.
After the last night perahera the four peraheras from the four 'devales' go to the ford of the Mahaveli River at Gatambe near Peradeniya. The chief 'kapuralas' (priests) of the 'devales' then wade to the middle of the river. One of the 'kapuralas' describes a circle in the water with a 'golden' sword. The priests empty into the river the 'golden ewers' (ran kendi) which they had filled with water at the same spot the year before and fill them up again with water. (The ewers thus filled will be emptied and refilled here at the end of the Esala Perahera the following year). This ritual is known as the 'diya kapeema' (water cutting).
Then the four peraheras start their way back to Kandy. On their way they stop at the 'Pulleyar Kovil' (Selvavinayagar Kovil) at Katukelle. Then at the astrologically computed auspicious moment they proceed to the Adahana Maluwa, where they join the Maligawa Perahera.
The five peraheras parade along the D. S. Senanayake Street and King Street three times. The Maligawa Perahera enters the Maligawa and the devale peraheras wind up at the respective temples, bringing the annual Kandy Esala pageant to an end.
by Rohana R. Wasala
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