Features

VEDDA TRAILS AND TALES

Published

2 years ago

2024/09/1

Thilina Walpola

(Excerpted from Falling Leaves, an anthology of autobiographical tales by LC Arulpragasam)

Vedda Tales

Elephants (apart from sneaky bears!) were the main danger to the Veddas – since they would ravage and destroy their chenas. Their main fear was that they could be ambushed by elephants when in the ‘talawa’ or tall ‘savannah’ grasslands, interspersed only with small trees that offered no safety from elephants. The danger was even greater from a lone bull elephant, injured or ostracized from the herd, which could attack, even if unprovoked.

The first story is from an isolated chena in the jungle, where a lone Vedda from a flimsy platform built on a sturdy tree, tried to scare away a marauding elephant that was destroying his chena crop. Armed only with an old flint-gun with only one ball cartridge, the frightened Vedda discharged his only shot at the elephant. The latter, although severely wounded, charged repeatedly at the tree to which the Vedda hung for dear life. After several attempts to get at his tormentor, the wounded elephant, roaring with rage, retreated into the jungle. But an elephant never forgets! The next time that the hapless Vedda ventured into the jungle, the elephant was waiting for him. It blocked his path – and smashed him into smithereens!

Another story involves a famed elephant ‘charmer’, who was the leader of his clan at Danigala. Whenever a rogue elephant charged, he was reputed to stand his ground unflinchingly, shouting some chant that would cause the elephant to veer away, lumbering harmlessly past him! This always happened – until he committed a grievous sin. During the maha roghe’ of the 1930s (probably the devastating malaria epidemic of that time), his entire clan and family had been wiped out.

He was left alone in his lonely fastness of the Danigala rock with only his 14-year-old daughter. It is then that he committed the unpardonable sin of co-habiting with his own daughter – for which he paid the ultimate price. The very next time that he was confronted with a charging elephant, he put out his chest as was his wont, and unflinchingly shouted out his famous chant. But the elephant did not waver this time. It hurled him many yards away and proceeded to stamp repeatedly on his lifeless body. Thereby hangs a cautionary tale!

A different story illustrates the Veddas’ tenuous hold on life in their daily struggle with the elements. One night in Henebedde, at the height of the monsoon, a terrifying thunderstorm arose, filling the night with thunderous roar, venting winds and livid lightning, tearing down mighty trees and striking terror among the Veddas. Adding to the chaos, terrified animals were stampeding through the hamlet, including a herd of elephants that rampaged through their pathetic huts.

Unfortunately, a terrified baby elephant, having lost its mother in the storm had found its way into one of their huts. While the terrified occupants cowered in the corner, the baby elephant even more terrified, was trumpeting forlornly to its mother. The angry mother looking for its baby smashed the hut down, killing one of the cowering children. I experience the elemental fear of the Veddas even today, in their thoughts of that terrible night!

There is also the famous story of ‘Wallaha’ (the Bear), the famous head of the Henebedde clan, justly famed for his bravery. One day on a jungle trail, he was suddenly attacked by a bear – probably the most dangerous animal in those jungles. It follows the unsuspecting, attacking them when they are most vulnerable. Taken by surprise, ‘Wallaha’, not being able to use his bow and arrow, had to fight the bear with his bare hands.

The struggle lasted for more than two hours, in which the bear gouged out his eye and tore out his right arm. He did, however, manage to kill the bear with his bare hands – for which he was revered for generations with the name ‘Wallaha’ (the Bear). I showed a photograph of ‘Wallaha’ from Seligmann’s book to Kaira his son, now head of the Henebedda clan. Since he had never seen a photo before, he shouted: ‘Wallaha’ – and proceeded proudly to show it off to his entire clan!

The last story pertains to one that I myself had witnessed – in which I almost shared the Veddas’ superstitions of evil spells and spirits! A feud had erupted between the Henebedde clan and the adjoining one that lived across the rivulet that divided their hunting grounds. Things came to a head when the rival clan hired a ‘kattadiya’ (a dealer in evil spirits) from the South to cast a curse and ‘evil eye’ upon them. I remember even to this day (75 years later!), the night of throbbing, obsessive beat of drums, wafted by the winds across the river, sounding a seeming spell on the terrified Veddas cowering over their fires.

The once-familiar jungle now seemed to be closing in on them from all sides, fraught with their fancied fears of foreboding evil, their strangulated faces framed by their flickering fires – with me too succumbing to their fear of evil afoot! None of the families slept that night: neither did I – for the terrifying drums kept throbbing through the night. The next morning, drugged by deprived sleep, we staggered on our way to our next jungle destination. On the way, we heard loud singing and the sound of much laughter – partly to scare away wild animals. But we found that the jolly songs were emanating from the ‘evil’ kattadiya of the previous night! He was actually a very jolly fellow, whose infectious laughter provided us with companionable company. How easily the terrors of the previous night were dissipated and its expected evils extirpated!

My Personal Travails on the Trail

I need to list some of the hardships that I experienced on this trek, since it is germane to my story. First, we only ate the frugal food that the Veddas shared with us – for we had thrown away our supplies, which weighed a ton after a 12-15 mile walk every other day. Secondly, although we were supposed to boil our drinking water, we could not even find water to boil! In fact, we had to dig deep with our hands in dry riverbeds to collect even a few drops of dirty water.

No wonder, I developed severe dysentery! Moreover, I had to wear the same khaki shirt and trousers for three months in the jungle, able to wash them only when we found any rock pool or watering hole! Fourthly, by walking about 12-15 miles every other day, I was forced to cut big blisters on the soles of my feet every night with an un-boiled blade – only to walk the next morning on the newly-cut blisters! Meanwhile, I had developed severe dysentery (passing blood) by drinking dirty water, with accompanying back aches due to weakness. I had also grown a long beard – which I had not been able to shave for over three months!

Meanwhile, we discovered that we had walked off our maps of the Uva Province and were in fact going farther into the Eastern Province – which had not been our intention! I therefore decided to try to reach Inginiyagala (some 27 miles away) for medical treatment for my debilitating dysentery. But walking into Inginiyagala from the jungle in 1951, we found only massive jungle-clearing by massive machinery and a boom town straight out of the American Wild West – since the dam was under construction by American contractors. We could not even find a town centre or any professional – least of all, a doctor. Not having any money, I had to return to the jungle without treatment.

Our immediate concern, however, was that we had no food to eat, nor any place to sleep – nor any money, which was a necessity in this American boom town! Fortunately, our Vedda led us to a garbage dump where I greedily gobbled down food (we had not eaten all day) thrown away by labourers into the garbage bin; I knew only that my dysentery couldn’t get any worse!! However, I now faced the gruelling prospect of walking back about 90 miles to our original starting point, which was Bibile, in the Badulla District. I gritted my teeth and accomplished this task too, using my rifle as a haramitiya or old man’s stick!

But worse was still to come! I had left all my money with a school teacher in Bibile, since I had no use for it in the jungle. The teacher now apologized that he had spent (gambled) it all away; promising profusely to pay me back in instalments over the next two years! But I needed the money immediately to pay for medical treatment – and to catch a train back to Colombo for hospitalization! Desperate now, I used my last 12 cents to buy a bus ticket to Padiyatalawa (In hindsight, I realize my folly now: I was trying to work my way always towards Colombo, where I needed to get into the hospital).

I had no money – not even to eat. I somehow managed to reach an Apothecary’s clinic, somewhere in the jungle near Padiyatalawa. It was night time now –and the clinic was closed. When I shouted for help, a shuttered window slowly opened, and a double-barrel gun poked out – for it was a lonely place in the jungle. I shouted in English that I was a Lecturer in the University – to show that I was not a bandit! At last, however, Providence smiled upon me.

By an absolute and unbelievable stroke of luck, this Apothecary had worked under my father, a medical doctor, whom he greatly admired. He said that he had never worked under a better boss, nor ever met a more decent gentleman than my father! He welcomed me into his house. After giving me to eat (I had not eaten since morning), he attended to my medical needs. He even advanced me money for a 3^rd Class train ticket to Colombo – as a low-paid Apothecary, he could not afford more. Tears come to my eyes (even after 75 years!) as I write this: for the providence that led me by chance to this forsaken place, where only the merit of my father saved me. I had neither the physical strength nor the financial means to go any farther! This was the lowest and most helpless position that I had reached in my entire life!

However, even more bad news awaited me in Colombo! Whereas I had been promised a post in the Sociology Faculty of the University, I found that the Vice-Chancellor (Sir Ivor Jennings) had now decided not to advertise the post that year. I was thus forced to sit for the Civil Service Examination – which was only two to three months away. Being absolutely sick with dysentery, I was forced despairingly to cram around the clock to face that examination. It is with luck that I managed to pass first in the CCS exam. of that year (1951).

In the Jungles of Wellassa-Bintenne

In 1950/51, when I was still in the University, I undertook a sociological survey of the Veddas living in the jungles of Wellassa and Bintenne in the Badulla District, as part of my University studies in Sociology. Mr. Cuda Bibile, a University colleague, accompanied me. The only authoritative study of the Veddas at that time had been done by Dr. C. Seligmann, a German anthropologist in 1911. In the course of our survey, we covered on foot about 250 miles through savannah-type grasslands in Wellassa and through thick jungles in Bintenne, visiting places where only Seligman and Dr. R.L. Spittel had been before.

We set out with a survey map dating from the 1930s of the scattered Vedda settlements. But the Veddas were hunter-gatherers, and their ‘hamlets’ had migrated over time along with their chena (swidden) fields, which moved every two years. Only sometimes knowing where we were, we ultimately found that we had walked off our maps of Wellassa and Bintenne in the Uva Province to Inginiyagala in the Batticaloa district of the Eastern Province! We trekked over a period of three months during the hottest time of the year, June-August, in the dry zone.

I carried a rusty old rifle (abandoned by the British Army after World War II), which I bought for the equivalent of US $ 2 off the Pettah pavement. This was to serve as protection against wild animals, as well as for foraging for food. But we found that it was impractical to shoot any game for food, since we had to carry the animal for the next fifteen miles until we reached our next destination. We also jettisoned our supplies because they weighed a ton by the end of each long day of walking!

We went into the jungle with no money – because there was no use for cash (only barter) in the forest. Since we had nothing to barter, we lived entirely on the charity of the poor Vedda families that we encountered. We would get a Vedda from one hamlet to walk with us for the ten to fifteen miles a day to reach the next little hamlet. These were not even ‘hamlets’ in the true sense of the term, since they consisted of only five to seven pathetic huts made of tree bark and leaves which moved, following the Veddas’ chena (slash and burn) cycle. We would spend about two to three days in each settlement, learning about their way of life and listening to their ancestral stories before moving on to the next settlement. In this manner, we covered the Vedda settlements of Dambana, Danigala, Henebedde, Bingoda and Mullegama over a period of three months.

Elephants were always a problem, especially in the ‘savanna’ grasslands of Wellassa. Sometimes on our walk of 10-20 miles each day, we would encounter a herd of elephants, sometimes up to fifteen or more, right across our way. Since this was open grassland, interspersed only with small trees that could easily be knocked down by elephants, we could not afford to be seen or scented by them. Our Vedda ‘tracker’ would always position us down-wind from the elephants, so that they could not scent us. But this meant lying in the grass sometimes for two hours, baked by the merciless sun, hoping that the herd would move on. We were always apprehensive that we would be benighted in the jungle, unable to reach our next destination before nightfall.

Life Among the Veddas

The Veddas in Seligmann’s time (1911) lived almost entirely on hunting and gathering. They shot game with their bows and arrows, gathered honey from the caves and trees as well as herbs and roots from the forest. By 1950, part of their time was devoted to chena (swidden) cultivation, which involved about four months’ work in felling and burning the forest in the dry season; they sowed their grains (mostly maize and millet) and planted their manioc (cassava) with the first rains. They continued their hunting and gathering at the same time, which continued to define their way of life.

Most of the Vedda settlements consisted of only five to eight households, all of them closely related. The group in Henebedde lived in a small clearing in the jungle, bounded by a perennial stream. Their huts were small, measuring only about 9 x 9 feet, with sides of bark and roofs of leaves. They only had one opening for the entrance, but no door or windows. They shared this limited space with their family, their hearth and their hunting dogs. Since there was no room in Kaira, their leader’s hut, I was allowed to sleep halfway through the door, with the choice of having either my head or my protruding toes being chewed by pesky bears!

Although the Veddas had their own language, which was still in use in Seligmann’s time, it was hardly used at the time of our visit in 1950. Like all the clans living in the area, they spoke Sinhala as their main language, even at home among themselves. However, as we walked eastward into what we later found was Bintenne Pattu of the Batticaloa district, we found that Tamil replaced Sinhalese as the main medium of communication.

We set out with a survey map dating from the 1930s that was supposed to mark the scattered Vedda settlements. But the latter were not to be found where they were supposed to be. The Veddas were hunter-gatherers, who lived partly by chena (slash and burn) cultivation. Hence their ‘hamlets’ had migrated along with their chena fields. We ultimately found that we had walked off our maps of Wellassa and Bintenne Pattus in the Uva Province, finding ourselves at Inginiyagala in the Eastern Province! We must have covered around 250 miles on foot over a period of three months, during the hottest time of the year, July-August, in the dry zone.

I carried a rusty old 303 rifle, which I had bought for the equivalent of US $2 off the pavement from old army surplus, sold as junk after World War II. I found later that it was completely cock-eyed, hitting one coconut tree while I was aiming at another coconut tree! But I reckoned that I could shoot a charging elephant at close range! The rifle was supposed to serve as protection against wild animals and foraging for food.

But we found that we could not shoot any animal for food since we had to carry it for the 12-15 miles to reach our next destination. Since we were supposed to cook our own food, we set out with some rice and dhal and a pan for cooking. However, we jettisoned our supplies within three days because they weighed a ton by the end of each walking day! We were also supposed to boil our water before drinking; but we could not even find water to boil! Since we were at the height of the dry season in the dry zone, we had to dig two to three feet with our bare hands in dry river-beds in order to find even a bit of black-coloured water to drink. No wonder that I got severe dysentery!

We went into the jungle with no money since there was no use for cash, but only barter, in the forest. Hence we lived entirely on the charity of the poor Vedda families that we visited. We would eat only what the Veddas ate – which was a kurrakanthalape (boiled kurakkan ball with a green chillie on top). We would get a ‘tracker’ from one hamlet to walk with us for the 12-15 miles needed to reach the next little hamlet. These were not even hamlets in the true sense of the term, since they consisted of only five to seven pathetic huts made of tree bark and leaves. Thus, we covered the Vedda settlements of Dambana, Danigala, Henebedde, Bingoda and Mullegama, over a period of three months.

Elephants were always a problem, especially in the savanna-type grasslands of Wellassa. Sometimes on our walk of 12-15 miles each day to a different settlement, we would encounter a herd of elephants (sometimes up to fifteen or more) right across our way. Since this was open grassland, interspersed with small trees that could easily be knocked down by elephants, we could not afford to be seen or scented by them. Since their sense of smell is strong, our vedda ‘tracker’ would always position us down-wind from them. But this meant lying in the grass for two hours or more, baked by the merciless sun, hoping that the herd would move away. We were always apprehensive that we would be benighted in the jungle, leaving us a prey to wild animals.

The Veddas in Seligmann’s time lived almost entirely on hunting and gathering. They shot game with their bows and arrows, gathered honey from the caves and trees, as well as herbs and roots from the forest. By the time of our visit, however, part of their time was devoted to chena cultivation. This involved about three months’ work in felling and burning the forest in the dry season and sowing their grains (mostly maize and millet) and manioc (cassava) with the first rains. They of course continued their hunting and gathering, which still continued to define their way of life.

Most of the Vedda settlements consisted of only five to eight households, all of them closely related. Their huts were small, measuring only about nine by nine feet, with sides of bark and roofs of leaves or talawa/ grass. They only had one opening for the entrance, but no door or windows. They shared this limited space with their family, their hearth and their hunting dogs. In the course of these travels, we spent three days in the settlement of Henebedde.

The group at Henebedde lived in a small clearing in the jungle, bounded by a perennial stream, which provided their water supply. The ‘hamlet’ comprised only seven or eight families, with Kaira as their head. He gave me shelter at night in his own hut, made only of bark and leaves. Since his hut was crowded with his family and hunting dogs; this left me with the choice of leaving either my head or my toes outside the hut – to be possibly nibbled by bears at night! We ate only what the family ate, which was cassava or sometimes kurakkan talappe (moist balls of ground millets), eaten with only a green chillie.

While at Henebedde, I showed Kaira a picture from Seligmann’s book (published in 1911) of the Vedda chief at that time. Kaira, who probably had not seen a photo before, was astounded to see a picture of his own father, the chief at that time: ‘Wallaha’! he cried. His father was named ‘Wallaha’ (‘Bear’) because he had fought and killed a bear with his bare hands, despite the fact that the bear had gouged out his eye and torn out one arm. We depended on Kaira’s protection, food and hospitality for three days, before going on to other Vedda settlements.

Although the Veddas had their own language, which was still in use in Seligmann’s time, it was hardly used at the time of our visit in 1951. Like all the clans living in the area, they spoke Sinhala as their main language, even at home among themselves. However, as we walked eastward into what we later found was Bintenne Pattu of the Eastern Province, we found that Tamil replaced Sinhalese as the main medium of communication. Of course when the Veddas came into town for barter, they used their own language, partly to prevent others from understanding their conversation, but partly as a ‘show’ to get money from strangers who had never seen Veddas before!

(More on the Veddahs next week)

All News Advertisement

Features

Concept of living wage and cost of living

Published

3 hours ago

2026/04/29

Sahan Weerasooriya

The International Labour Organisation (ILO) now defines a living wage as the wage level necessary for workers and their families to afford a decent standard of living, given national circumstances, for normal hours of work. This standard of living is operationalised through the cost of essential goods and services, typically including food, housing, healthcare, education, transport, and a modest allowance for contingencies and social participation.

In contrast, “cost of living” in economics is a broader price index concept that tracks the overall prices of a representative consumption basket but is not inherently normative about what constitutes decency or dignity.

Living wage methodologies effectively translate a cost-of-living basket, specified for a given family size and living standard, into a monthly income requirement for workers, thereby linking real wages to human development objectives rather than only to market productivity.

Methodologies for computing a living wage

Most contemporary living wage estimates follow a structured “cost of a basic but decent life” approach built around three steps: defining a reference family, costing a normative consumption basket, and converting that cost into a wage per worker.

The Anker methodology, widely used in global supply chains and in Sri Lanka, is a leading example: it defines a model family (e.g., 2 adults and approximately 2–3 children), estimates the cost of a low-cost nutritious diet, adequate housing, and non-food essentials, and then allocates that cost over expected number of full-time workers per family.

Within the Anker framework, the food component is based on locally appropriate diets meeting caloric and nutritional norms, priced using local market surveys and adjusted for waste and home preparation.

Housing costs are derived from standards for minimally acceptable housing (e.g., durable materials, sufficient space, basic services), using rents or imputed rental values from empirical fieldwork. Other essential expenditures, health, education, transport, clothing, and a small margin for unexpected events, are typically estimated as a percentage mark-up over food and housing costs, derived from national household survey data.

Finally, the methodology sets a reference number of workers per family, divides total family living costs by this number to get a net living wage, and then adjusts to a gross living wage by adding payroll taxes and mandatory deductions. Periodic updates are made using consumer price indices (CPIs) to reflect inflation or deflation and, where necessary, new field surveys to capture structural shifts in prices and consumption patterns.

Sri Lanka’s living wage estimates and their link to cost of living (Anker Methodology)

Sri Lanka has been the subject of several living wage studies, notably for the tea estate sector and for urban and rural areas, using the Anker methodology.

In the tea estate sector, an updated 2024 Anker report estimates the cost of a “basic but decent” standard of living for a typical family at about LKR 78,067 per month (approximately USD 260), implying a gross living wage of LKR 48,584 per month (USD 160) and a net, take-home living wage of LKR 44,357.

For urban Sri Lanka, the Anker Living Wage Reference Value was originally set at LKR 84,231 per month in April 2022, corresponding to a net living wage of LKR 77,492 plus social security contributions. After cumulative inflation of about 36.9 percent between April 2022 and June 2025, the updated gross urban living wage is estimated at approximately LKR 115,291 per month (around USD 385), consisting of a net living wage of LKR 106,068 and social security contributions of LKR 9,223

These Sri Lankan figures are explicitly derived from cost-of-living calculations: they incorporate the cost of food, housing, utilities, health, education, and other essentials at local prices and then convert these into wages per adult worker, assuming roughly 1.7–1.8 full-time earners per family. Because living wage estimates are indexed to actual price dynamics, periods of high inflation, as Sri Lanka experienced in 2022–2023, translate almost mechanically into sharp upward revisions in living wages, underlining the tight coupling between living wage levels and the evolving cost of living.

Comparative living wages: Sri Lanka and other countries

Cross-country comparisons require careful normalisation because living wages reflect local prices, family structures, and social norms, but several datasets provide a structured basis for comparison. [asia.floorwage](https://asia.floorwage.org/living-wage/calculating-a-living-wage/)

The Asia Floor Wage Alliance, for example, publishes a regional living wage benchmark expressed in purchasing power parity (PPP) terms, with a 2024 benchmark of 1,750.54 PPP dollars per month converted into local currencies using country-specific PPP exchange rates.

Using this PPP-based approach, the 2024 living wage equivalent for Sri Lanka is estimated at around LKR 158,353 per month, assuming a PPP exchange rate of about 90.5 Sri Lankan rupees per PPP dollar.

This PPP-normalised figure is substantially higher than the Anker 2024–2025 estate-sector and urban living wage estimates in nominal rupees, partly because the Asia Floor Wage benchmark is set to ensure a more harmonised standard across Asian garment-producing economies and uses a single PPP wage target.

These figures indicate that, within this PPP-based framework, Sri Lanka’s living wage in local currency is relatively high compared to countries such as India and Bangladesh, but the comparison reflects both different PPP exchange rates and domestic price structures.

From a cost-of-living perspective, this pattern is consistent with Sri Lanka being a lower-middle-income country with relatively higher prices for some essentials compared with low-income South Asian economies, especially after recent macroeconomic and inflationary shocks.

Global patterns and high-income economies

Global datasets covering more than 200 countries show that typical-family living wage levels, whether calculated in PPP or nominal terms, tend to correlate positively with national income levels, with North America, Western Europe, and Australia displaying the highest living wage values.

In this global distribution, living wages in middle- and low-income regions of Asia, Africa, and Latin America are lower in absolute terms, though the ratio of living wage to median wages or statutory minimum wages can be high, underscoring the gap between decent-work standards and prevailing labour market outcomes.

Interestingly, some studies note that rural living wage estimates can be relatively high in poorer countries because limited infrastructure and service availability raise the cost of accessing a given standard of living, such as safe water, transport, and education.

For Sri Lanka, rural Anker living wage benchmarks similarly reveal the importance of non-food costs, such as transportation to schools, health facilities, and workplaces, in shaping the total family budget, despite lower nominal rents in many rural areas.

Living wage, social policy, and Sri Lanka’s development trajectory

The emerging international consensus around a living wage is rooted in the human rights-based notion of a “decent life” rather than a subsistence minimum or an arbitrarily set statutory floor.

From a social science perspective, incorporating living wage benchmarks into wage-setting institutions, collective bargaining, and social dialogue reorients labour markets toward social reproduction, intergenerational mobility, and social cohesion, rather than merely cost competitiveness.

For Sri Lanka, where recent crises have eroded real wages and increased household vulnerability, living wage estimates such as the Anker urban and estate-sector benchmarks provide an analytically rigorous yardstick for evaluating whether current wage policies and social transfers are adequate relative to the actual cost of a basic but decent life.

Comparisons with regional PPP-based benchmarks like the Asia Floor Wage suggest that, while Sri Lanka’s living wage requirement in local currency is relatively high, the country also faces significant affordability challenges, especially for low-paid workers in export sectors and informal employment, whose earnings often fall short of these normative thresholds.

In policy terms, the living wage framework highlights the need for coordinated approaches that combine wage-setting reforms, inflation-sensitive social protection, and productivity-enhancing investments, so that rising living-cost-consistent wages do not simply translate into inflationary spirals or employment losses.

For empirical research in Sri Lanka, these benchmarks open avenues for micro-level analysis of wage gaps, household coping strategies, gendered labour outcomes, and the distributional effects of macroeconomic adjustment, all anchored to a transparent and internationally recognised living wage methodology.

(The writer, a senior Chartered Accountant and professional banker, is Professor at SLIIT, Malabe. The views and opinions expressed in this article are personal.)

Features

Buddhist philosophy and the path to lasting peace

Published

3 hours ago

2026/04/29

Sahan Weerasooriya

Echoes of ‘The Walk for Peace’

The international Walk for Peace’ reaching Colombo, joined by a large number of monks and devotees, led by spiritual leader Ven Bhikku Pannakara, with the peace dog ‘Aloka,’ completing the 161 km journey.The walk commenced in Dambulla on April 22 following the main ceremony at the Jaya Sri Maha Bodhi in Anuradhapura.Pic by Nishan S.Priyantha

by Ven. Dr. Kirinde Assaji Nayaka Thero
Chief Incumbent, Gangaramaya Temple, Hunupitiya, Colombo

Throughout human history, one of the greatest and most complex challenges has been the establishment of lasting peace and the maintenance of harmonious coexistence. While peace is often understood simply as the absence of war or armed conflict, a deeper, spiritual perspective reveals it as a profound state of social and mental harmony. It is an ideal that must be cultivated within individuals as well as across societies.

Buddhism offers one of the most practical and timeless philosophies of peace. The teachings of the Buddha are rooted in non-violence and the four sublime virtues—loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity. Central to this philosophy is the idea that true peace in the world begins with inner peace within the individual. Conflict, the Buddha taught, arises not on battlefields but within the human mind, driven by greed, hatred, and delusion. Without overcoming these negative forces, lasting peace in the external world remains unattainable.

In today’s world, marked by geopolitical tensions, economic competition, and social unrest—this inward approach to peace is more relevant than ever. Despite technological advancement, humanity continues to grapple with violence and division. The Buddha’s teaching points instead to an internal struggle: a battle against anger, jealousy, and ignorance. Rather than weapons of destruction, Buddhism promotes wisdom, compassion, patience, and discipline as the tools to overcome conflict.

The path to peace begins with understanding its causes. Just as muddy water becomes clear when left undisturbed, the human mind achieves clarity and calm when negative emotions are subdued. This principle is reflected in the Buddha’s intervention during a historic dispute between the Sakya and Koliya clans over water, where he reminded them of the greater value of human life, thereby preventing bloodshed.

In a world increasingly threatened by conflict over limited resources and political power, such lessons remain highly relevant. The Buddha also emphasised the principle of moral causation—actions have consequences.

Yadisaṃ vapate bijaṃ tadisaṃ harate phalaṃ
Kalyaāṇakariī kalyaṃ papakariī ca papakaṃ
Pavutthaṃ tata te bijaṃ phalaṃ paccanubhossasiti

“As one sows the seed, so does one reap the fruit.

The doer of good receives good results, and the doer of evil receives evil results.

Dear one, whatever seed you have planted, you will experience the corresponding fruit of it.”

At the heart of Buddhist ethics is respect for life. All beings fear harm and seek happiness, and therefore, violence against others cannot lead to true well-being. This message is particularly significant in an era where the race for power and advanced weaponry continues to overshadow compassion and humanity.

The fundamental moral discipline in Buddhism is respect for life and opposition to harming living beings. The Buddha taught that all beings desire happiness, and fear suffering, and that harming others will not lead to happiness.

Sabbe tasanti dandassa
sabbe bhayanti maccuno
attanam upamam katva
na haneyya na ghataye.

“All tremble at violence; all fear death. Comparing others with oneself, one should neither kill nor cause others to kill.”

Despite technological advancement, the world appears to be moving backwards in terms of compassion and peace. Power-driven politics and the race for advanced weaponry cannot provide lasting solutions. Global leaders, diplomats, and policymakers must urgently recognise the importance of the tolerant, balanced, and non-violent approach taught in Buddhism. Protecting the right to life of all beings, and acting with compassion beyond divisions of race, religion, or politics, is the only true foundation for world peace.

Sri Lanka, as a nation nourished by the essence of Buddhism, has long upheld this principle. The Sri Lankan tradition, rooted in boundless loving-kindness and compassion, strives to uphold human values even amidst the harsh realities of global politics. From the respect shown by King Dutugemunu towards King Elara, to Sri Lanka’s stance at the 1951 San Francisco Peace Conference invoking the words “Hatred is never appeased by hatred,” to recent humanitarian acts in rescuing sailors in distress—these all reflect a single philosophy: valuing human life above all divisions.

The presentation of a “Joint Declaration for Peace” by the Mahanayake Theros at Gangaramaya Temple recently reaffirmed Sri Lanka’s commitment to global peace. Despite global power struggles, Sri Lanka continues to stand as a symbol of compassion and peace, reminding the world that human kindness is more powerful than weapons.

Institutions such as the Gangaramaya Temple have played a vital role in fostering social harmony. Through charitable, educational, and cultural programmes, the temple has encouraged unity across religious and ethnic lines, while also promoting interfaith dialogue and cooperation.

The annual Navam Maha Perahera, organised by the temple, stands as a powerful symbol of national unity, bringing together people from diverse backgrounds in a shared celebration. Similarly, vocational training and educational initiatives have helped empower young people from all communities, strengthening social cohesion.

A recent “Walk for Peace,” led by Venerable Pannakara Thero and supported by the monastic community, further underscored this commitment. More than a physical journey, it represented a spiritual effort to cultivate peace within the human heart and spread a message of compassion to the wider world.

One of the most touching aspects of the event was the participation of a dog named “Aloka,” which accompanied the monks throughout the journey. This simple yet powerful image reflected the Buddhist teaching that all living beings value life and deserve compassion, highlighting the universal nature of peace.

Ultimately, the Buddha’s message remains clear: peace cannot be achieved through hatred or violence. True peace arises from self-discipline, moral conduct, and the cultivation of a pure mind. As the teaching states, avoiding evil, doing good, and purifying one’s mind is the path laid down by the Buddha.

Let us plant the seeds of peace within our hearts and nurture them with loving-kindness. (“Sabba papassa akarananṃ – kusalassa upasampadā – sacitta pariyodapanaṃ – etaṃ Buddhana sasanaṃ”)

In a time when global tensions continue to rise, this timeless message serves as a powerful reminder that lasting peace begins within each individual—and that compassion remains humanity’s greatest strength.

“Devo vassatu kalena – sassa sampatti hetu ca
Pito bhavatu loko ca – rajaā bhavatu dhammiko”

(“May the rains fall at the right time, bringing about abundant harvests.

May the world be joyful and prosperous.

May the ruler be righteous and just.”)

Features

Peace march and promise of reconciliation

Published

1 day ago

2026/04/28

Sahan Weerasooriya

Peace walk in progress

The ongoing peace march by a group of international Buddhist monks has captured the sentiment of Sri Lankans in a manner that few public events have done in recent times. It is led by the Vietnamese monk Venerable Thich Pannakara who is associated with a mindfulness movement that has roots in Vietnamese Buddhist practice and actively promoted among diaspora communities in the United States. The peace march by the monks, accompanied by their mascot, the dog Aloka, has generated affection and goodwill within the Buddhist and larger community. It follows earlier peace walks in the United States where monks carried a similar message of mindfulness and compassion across communities but without any government or even media patronage as in Sri Lanka.

This initiative has the potential to unfold into an effort to nurture a culture of peace in Sri Lanka. Such a culture is necessary if the country as the country prepares to move beyond its history of conflict towards a more longlasting reconciliation and a political solution to its ethnic and religious divisions. The government’s support for the peace march can be seen as part of a broader attempt to shape such a culture. The Clean Sri Lanka programme, promoted by the government as a civic responsibility campaign focused on environmental cleanliness, ethical conduct and social discipline, provides a useful framework within which such initiatives can be situated. Its emphasis on collective responsibility and shared public space makes it sit well with the values that peacebuilding requires.

government’s previous plan to promote a culture of peace was on the occasion of “Sri Lanka Day” celebrations which were scheduled to take place on December 12-14 last year but was disrupted by Cyclone Ditwah. The Sri Lanka Day celebrations were to include those talented individuals from each and every community at the district level who had excelled in some field or the other, such as science, business or arts and culture and selected by the District Secretariats in each of the 25 districts. They were to gather in Colombo to engage in cultural performances and community-focused exhibitions. The government’s intention was to build up a discourse around the ideas of unity in diversity as a precursor to addressing the more contentious topics of human rights violations during the war period, and issues of accountability and reparations for wrongs suffered during that dark period.

Positive Response

The invitation to the international monks appears to have emerged from within Buddhist religious networks in Sri Lanka that have long maintained links with the larger international Buddhist community. The strong support extended by leading temples and clergy within the country, including the Buddhists Mahanayakes indicates that this was not an isolated effort but one that resonated with the mainstream Buddhist establishment. Indeed, the involvement of senior Buddhist leaders has been particularly noteworthy. A Joint Declaration for Peace in the world, drawing on Sri Lanka’s own experience, and by the Mahanayakes of all Buddhist Chapters took place in the context of the ongoing peace march at the Gangaramaya Temple in Colombo, with participation from the diplomatic community. The declaration, calling for compassion, dialogue and sustainable peace, reflects an effort by religious leadership to assert a moral voice in favour of coexistence.

The popular response to the peace march has also been striking. Large numbers of people have been gathering along the route, offering flowers, water and support to the monks. Schoolchildren have been lining the roads, and communities from different religious backgrounds extend hospitality. On the way, the monks were hosted by both a Hindu temple and a mosque, where food and refreshments were provided. These acts, though simple, carry a message about the possibility of harmony among Sri Lanka’s diverse communities. It helps to counter the perception that the Buddhist community in Sri Lanka is inherently nationalist and resistant to minority concerns that was shaped during the decades of war and reinforced by political mobilisation that too often exploited ethnic identity.

By way of contrast, the peace march offers a different image. It shows a readiness among ordinary people to embrace values of compassion and coexistence that are deeply embedded in Buddhist teaching. The Metta Sutta, one of the most well-known discourses in Buddhism, calls for boundless goodwill towards all beings. It states that one should cultivate a mind that is “boundless towards all beings, free from hatred and ill will.” This emphasis on universal compassion provides a moral foundation for peace that extends beyond national or ethnic boundaries. The monks themselves emphasised this point repeatedly during the walk. Venerable Thich Pannakara reminded those who gathered that while acts of generosity are commendable, mindfulness in everyday life is even more important. He warned that as people become unmindful, they are more prone to react with anger and hatred, thereby contributing to conflict.

More Initiatives

The presence of political leaders at key moments of the march has emphasised the significance that the government attaches to the event. Prime Minister Harini Amarasuriya paid her respects to the peace march monks in Kandy, while President Anura Kumara Dissanayake is expected to do so at the conclusion of the march in Colombo. Such gestures signal an alignment between political authority and moral aspiration, even if the translation of that aspiration into policy remains a work in progress. At the same time, the peace march has not been without its shortcomings. The walk did not engage with the Northern and Eastern parts of the country, regions that were most affected by the war and where the need for reconciliation is most acute. A more inclusive geographic reach would have strengthened the symbolic impact of the initiative.

In addition, the positive impact of the peace march could have been increased if more effort had been taken to coordinate better with other civic and religious groups and include them in the event. Many civil society and religious harmony groups who would have liked to participate in the peace march found themselves unable to do so. There was no place in the programme for them to join. Even government institutions tasked with promoting social cohesion and reconciliation found themselves outside the loop. The Clean Sri Lanka Task Force that organised the peace march may have felt that involving other groups would have made it more complicated to organise the events which have proceeded without problems.

The hope is that the positive energy and goodwill generated by this peace march will not dissipate but will instead inspire further initiatives with the requisite coordination and leadership. The march has generated public discussion, drawn attention to the values of mindfulness and compassion, and created a space in which people can imagine a different future. It has been a special initiative among the many that are needed to build a culture of peace. A culture of peace cannot be imposed from above nor can it emerge overnight. It needs to be nurtured through multiple efforts across society, including education, religious engagement, civic initiatives and political reform. It is within such a culture that the more difficult questions of power sharing, justice and reconciliation can be addressed in a constructive manner.

by Jehan Perera