Monsoon raced me to Lanka. When I boarded the flight at a blazing Trivandrum airport, little did I foresee a turbulent ride through a sky heavy with dark rain clouds. As I joined the rushing passengers, relieved to have landed safely after the rattling experience on board, I wondered what all the haste was for. And the reason dawned on me, only as I got out of the small yet smart airport at Colombo. It was the impending rains. Colombo was pitching dark under great black clouds hovering above, threatening to unleash a storm. Indeed, I had won the race.
My friends warm hug, with a `u got the seasons first rains with you’ greeting made me feel special. It’s a lovely feeling when you are held responsible for the good things in people’s lives. I felt deeply welcome into this tiny country nestled close to mine. The several weeks I took to ponder on my decision to travel to a militant riddled tense country like Sri Lanka had paid off. I had dared only because my visit coincided with one of those intermittent peace spells in the discord between the state and the separatist group demanding an independent Tamil Elam in the North and East of the island.
As we left the airport and sped through the slushy puddles of red lateritic gravel, I grew even closer to the land. The similarity is binding. The landscape, the people, their attire, the weather all reminded me of the very familiar western coast of India. Colombo could have been anywhere in Goa or Kerala!
Many call it the `tear drop’ shaped island. Perhaps true; considering the harrowing years of civil war the country, officially known as the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka, has been through since 1983. But for me this small island nation, less than a stones throw from the Indian coastline, separated by the Gulf of Mannar and the Palk Strait, is like that orange coral pendent that has come loose from the Indian peninsular garland. The trailing chain of 30 km long natural limestone shoal formation so clearly visible under the very shallow sea between the countries can well be remains of that ancient bond. Colonial British reports document it as natural bridge connecting the island to the Indian landmass, which subsequently was destroyed by a storm in the 15th century. Now known to the modern world as Adams Bridge, there are even earlier references to this bridge by 9th century Persian geographer Ibn Khordadebh and mathematician and astronomer Alberuni in 11th century. The northern point of this bridge starts at Danushkodi, in Tamil Nadu’s Rameshwaram Island and ends at the northern end of Mannar Island on the northwestern coast of Srilanka.
For the believer however, it is the remains of the bridge that Lord Rama constructed to cross over to Lanka, to rescue his beloved wife held captive by Ravana, the Asura king of Lanka. It is interesting how myths get woven into natural geological formations. An hours drive to the north of Trivandrum town along the state highway is Jatayupara, a cluster of huge rock boulders. Local tradition has it that Jatayu, the vulture friend of Lord Rama, fell wounded on this rock, while trying to prevent Ravana from kidnapping Sita to Lanka. It is also added that, this is the rock from where Hanuman took his final leap into Lanka.
Whatever the connection, the bonding between the two nations, is very intimate. It is reflected in every aspect of its culture and tradition, including language, script, and cuisine which is akin to states in peninsular India. How much ever a Malayalee or a Tamilian tries to pick on state-wise cultural affinities in Sri Lankan food, to me it seemed a unique blend of gastronomical delights from all over peninsular India. Western flavours in food habits and modernity in traditional costumes however are the remnants of the more recent colonial influences left by the Portuguese, the Dutch and the British since the 16th century. This even includes the name Ceylon, the official name for the island till 1972, given by the Portuguese.
By virtue of its location in the middle of the busy Indian Ocean trade route, the island was frequented by traders from the western and eastern world since ancient times. In fact, the demand for Srilankan cinnamon among the Egyptians is believed to date as far back as 1500 BC. Early Historic Roman trade in Peninsular India extended into Sri Lanka also. The seven UNESCO World heritage Sites are a testimony to the civilizational scale the kingdoms on the island had achieved more than 2000 years ago. These are all located in and around the Cultural Triangle which links ancient Anuradhapura, Medieval Polonnaruwa and the Kandy of recent history. So also are the ancient records in the Pali chronicles especially the Mahavamsa and the Dipavamsa, epigraphical records, and stone inscriptions which give plenty of details of the early historic period in Srilanka.
As effects of coastal trade spread deeper into the island, the indigenous population, known as the Veddas, is said to have moved into the hilly interiors and formed their own kingdom with Kandy as its capital. When the British East India Company colonized the island in 1802, Kandy was a separate Kingdom. Soon the Kingdom fell and Colombo became the administrative centre of colonial rule. Besides the interests in the islands timber, gemstones and other mineral resources, British colonial rule established a series of plantations in rubber, tea, coffee, sugar, cinnamon and indigo on the once densely forested hills and plains. The workforces at these plantations were brought largely from Tamil Nadu. Today Tamils form more than 15% of ethnic minority in Sri Lanka. While Kandy and its surrounding regions form the traditional core of Sinhala population, the regions around Jaffna in the north is the Tamil nerve centre.
I would have loved to travel into the hinterland of these core areas. But back home, I had pledged I wouldn’t wander around unaccompanied in this country. So I left it to my friends to take me to my one and only grand agenda in Sri Lanka – a few days at the Cultural triangle.
