Features
Samadhi Statue, Guard-stones and Moonstones
by ACB Pethiyagoda
This ‘Pilima Vahanse’ is said to belong to the Abeygiriya period of the third or fourth century of Sri Lanka’s history. It is not known in whose period of rule it was sculptured but is thought to be one of four similar statues facing the North, South, East and West – this faces North.
The statue was found in 1888, with the nose damaged, at the very site it is now in. Ravenhart in his “Ceylon – History in Stone” says that the repaired nose is over sharp and overlarge. Perhaps the repair was carried out by an ordinary mason who had no idea of proportions or aesthetics. This is not unusual, as there are many such instances of poor quality repairs in this country of damaged statues, stone carvings and particularly restoration of ancient temple paintings.
The Statue is 7’3″ in height, hewn from a single granite rock and said to have had two jewels for the eyes which are said to have gone missing in around 1914. The veracity of this is in question as the eves are closed with no place for jewels. The canopy over the statue was constructed in 1959/60.
Ananda Coomaraswamy wrote that the statue is “certainly the created work of art in Ceylon and is not surpassed in India”
Jawaharlal Nehru admired it when he first saw the statue in 1931. A year later, when he was in the Dehra Dun, jail a friend in Ceylon sent him a picture which he had with him in his cell and “it became a precious companion” he said.
Benjamin Rawland in his book “Art and Architecture of India” describes the statue as “The perfect embodiment of the idea of Samadhi (which) is conveyed through the very simplicity of conception; the perfect material equilibrium of the figure connotes the perfect mental state of the Sakyamuni through the massive stability of the triangular base formed by the inter locked legs mounted by the erect column body which supports the perfectly impassive mask like face.”
The Samadhi statue is symbolic of the tranquility of mind, with no attraction or repulsion from the world outside to disturb.
Guard-stones
The guard-stone or ‘doratupala/muragala’ at the top of the flight of steps which follow the moonstone leading to the Isurumuniya Rock temple was built by King Devanampiya Tissa in the Golden Age of Anuradhapura. It is one of the eight places (Atamasthana) of Buddhist worship in Anuradhapura.
The figure is of a Naga – a mythical human species closely associated with cobras whose function is to protect Buddhist temples from evil influences and to ensure peace, serenity, piety and prevent theft and sacrilege. Nagas carved on granite as guardians of places of worship built during the Anuradhapura period of Sri Lanka’s history are common. The workmanship is delicate and exquisite but bear a distinct Indian influence. In later times, such as the Polonnaruwa period the carvings are said to be inferior in quality and beauty.
The Nagas on guard stones are richly bejewelled, crowned and adorned with a halo of five or nine cobra hoods. This particular carving carries five such hoods. The chest is bare but the neck, ears, waist and ankles are decked in jewelry with a sword at the waist.
The figure is protected by three arches and in the Naga’s left hand is a vase of flowers while the right hand carries a sprig of flowers with a pot of flowers at its feet – all being symbols of prosperity. At the feet are also two Ganas or dwarfs who are believed to be attendants of Kuvera, the God of Wealth.
Moonstones
The Sinhala for the moonstone is ‘Sandakadapahana’ (sanda-moon, kanda-half, and pahana stone). It is a semi circular slab of hard granite, gneiss or limestone, depending on ready availability and is the first in a flight of steps leading to a Buddhist place of worship. These are richly decorated in concentric semi circular bands of low relief carvings of flowers, creepers, birds and animals. Many scholars regard moonstones as some of the finest examples of the ancient Sinhalese artists, which is the reason for reference to them in the Mahavamsa itself.
The moonstone is also called Irahandagala’; (ira-sun, handa-moon, gala-stone) in Sinhala. The sun comes into the word because from the earliest of times very many cultures of the world venerated the sun as giver of life, fertility and growth. The ancient Sinhala people were no different as the sun was given a predominant place in their poetry, paintings, sculpture, flags, etc.
Its importance is such that their main cultural and social celebration, the Sinhala New Year, around the April 14 each year, is related to positions of the sun. Thus the significant position of the lotus flower in the moonstone emphasizes the importance of the sun to life itself and is symbolized by the flower which blooms with the rising sun and stays open only so long as it shines.
The moonstone is therefore considered to have beneficial magical powers which ensures prosperity when people came in physical contact with it even by merely stepping on it. The moonstone was the first step to the entrance of the then temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic at Anuradhapura and is described as a classic example of the “best of the class of the decorated type of moonstone…..”
The protective wrought iron fence erected round it in recent times, does not unfortunately allow a picture to be taken in bright sunlight without its shadow falling on some part of the subject at most times of the day unless taken from a considerable height, requiring specialized equipment or perhaps under conditions of overcast skies.
The centre panel of this moonstone consists of two rows of lotus petals followed by a row of geese between two rows of a creeper followed by a panel consisting of elephants, horses, lions and bulls. The outermost semi circle depicts flames of fire.
S. Paranavitana in his “Significance of the Sinhalese Moonstone” explained as follows the significance of each carved panel which according to him represents a spiritual stage in a human’s ascent to Nirvana.
“i. the arc of flower petals (palapethi) motif; the fires of worldly existence.
ii. the arc of four beasts – elephant, lion, horse and bull : the four mortal perils birth, disease, decay and death
the arc of undulating scrolls of leaves and flowers forming the liyavel piyaveli motif; desire or craving (tanha)
iii. the arc of swans or geese (hansa): the thoughtful ones who have left their worldly abodes.
the arc containing a second liyavela motif: the heavenly worlds.
iv. the arc of lotus petals turned outwards, the arc of lotus petals turned inwards and seed-cup in the centre forming together half a lotus: Nirvana.”
All moonstones do not follow this decorative arrangements as some have a panel or two more indicating that the ancient sculptors enjoyed a great deal of freedom in the expression of their art. Some are even more than a semi circle in shape while in others the innermost panel with the lotus flower are raised and are at a higher level than the other panels. Some moonstones of the later part of the Polonnaruwa period are devoid of the bull as in those times the influence of Hinduism was significant and stepping on a figure of the bull was considered sacrilegious as the cow is sacred to Hindus.
Paranvitana saw a “deep metaphysical interpretation” in the panels while D.T. Devendra thought the moonstone was a mere decorated doormat. While the choice between the two very divergent views is the reader’s, only the ancient sculptors themselves knew the reason for their labours. Some of them could have been inspired by great religious fervour while others may have carried out the task purely for material rewards. On the other hand it could have even been a mix of both. We would never know for certain.
V. Vitharana in his essay, “The Moonstone and its Fertility Associations” supports Paranavitana’s interpretation and goes further to say that moonstones are so numerous in Sri Lanka that even an approximation of the numbers is difficult to make. With excavations going on more are likely to add to these numbers.
The origin of the moonstone is traced to the time of the Buddha. It is said that the floors of the Pabbarama monastery in Savarthi built by the wealthy devotee, Visakha, were covered entirely with rich and rare cloth before she offered it to the Lord. Another wealthy lady who also wished to offer such a cloth could however not find a place to lay it on.
Ananda Thero seeing the lady’s disappointment advised her to place her offering at the foot of the stairway leading to the building where the Buddha and monks in attendance would step on after their feet were washed at the entrance to the building. This was done and since that time the first step at the entrance to places of Buddhist worship began to be beautified in various ways and in due course with stones decorated with carvings. At first the carvings were very simple and as time went on these became more elaborate resulting in the moonstones seen today.
Hence, the origin of the moonstone was in India and was later introduced to Sri Lanka with the advent of Buddhism. C. Godakumbura in his book ‘Moonstones’ describes a few seen in Andhra, Sanchi, Ajanta and Elora and goes on to say that some of those were partly decorated while others were carved fully but all these had a connection with Buddhist places of worship. Later on even entrances to palaces came to be adorned with moonstones.
Among the hundreds of moonstones available in Sri Lanka, a few of the most outstanding in beauty and technical perfection are said to be the ones described above and those at Mahasena’s pavilion in the Abayagiri area, in the premises of the Sri Maha Bodhi in Anuradhapura and the Vatadage in Polonnaruwa.
The moonstone at the entrance to the Sri Dalada Maligawa in Kandy was of exquisite beauty and perfection but was marred by the LTTE terrorists when they attacked the temple.
(These articles by the late ACB Pethiyagoda were first published in this newspaper in 2001 and 2002. The author was a retired tea planter who ended his career managing Ceylon Tobacco Company’s agricultural projects.)
Features
Combining local resources,traditional knowledge and science to build a food-secure Sri Lanka
World Food Day 2026: Innovating today for a better food future
by Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
What will be on the Sri Lankan dinner table ten years from now? Will our children be able to get nutritious food at a price their families can afford? Will farmers be able to grow enough despite changing weather and rising costs? And how much of the food we produce will actually reach the consumer, instead of being lost or wasted along the way?
These questions can’t wait. A farmer faces unpredictable weather. A family faces rising food costs. Fruit goes unsold after a good harvest. Some children do not get enough nutrition. The future of food is tied to the future of Sri Lanka itself.
World Food Day 2026 is a chance to look beyond the immediate problems and ask whether we can build a food system that feeds our people well, gives farmers better opportunities, protects the environment and makes better use of what we already have. The answer can be yes, but we will have to think differently.
We are not starting from zero. Sri Lanka has diverse crops, fisheries, traditional food knowledge, indigenous varieties, research institutions, universities and a young generation able to create new solutions. What we need is to bring these together and act. Producing more will not secure our food future on its own. It will depend on how intelligently we produce, process, preserve, distribute and consume food.
Making more of what we already have
Innovation does not always mean inventing something new. Often it means finding better uses for the resources we have.
Sri Lanka grows traditional rice varieties, kurakkan, green gram, cowpea, jackfruit, breadfruit, cassava, sweet potato, coconut and palmyrah. All of them have great potential for modern, nutritious, value-added foods. Jackfruit and breadfruit can be made into flour and other convenient products. Traditional rice varieties can go into new foods that suit changing consumer needs. Palmyrah, with its strong cultural heritage, can create new income through better processing, packaging, quality assurance and market development.
The aim is to connect our traditional food knowledge with modern consumer needs and technology, while keeping our food heritage.
Stop wasting the food we produce
Reducing food loss and waste should be a major priority. Seasonal fruits such as mango, banana, papaya and pineapple can be lost in large quantities when production exceeds demand or when storage, transport and processing facilities are inadequate. With suitable technology, these fruits can become dried products, pulps, powders, beverages and other shelf-stable foods.
Agricultural and fisheries by-products are resources too. They could be turned into food ingredients, animal feed, bio-based products and other useful materials, which would move us toward a more circular food economy.
Technology alone is not enough. We need stronger local processing facilities, cold storage, efficient transport, collection centres and market information systems, especially close to where food is produced. Cutting food loss raises the value of what our farmers and fishers already produce.
Nutrition and food safety come first
Food security means more than having enough food. People also need food that is safe and nutritious.
Sri Lanka can develop affordable, nutritious foods from local pulses, grains, vegetables, fruits and fish. Children and other vulnerable groups should get particular attention. Schoolchildren in particular deserve a focus: safe, nutritious, locally sourced products for school feeding programs would support child nutrition, local farmers and domestic food industries at the same time.
Food safety must stay at the centre of food innovation. Good hygiene, quality control, laboratory testing, traceability and appropriate food safety systems are what make new products safe as well as attractive and nutritious.
A food system that can cope with climate change
Climate change is already affecting agricultural production, water availability, crop yields and food prices. We need food systems that can handle changing conditions. That means climate-resilient crops, efficient water use, soil and water conservation, better storage and resource-efficient food processing.
Traditional knowledge matters here. Generations of Sri Lankan farmers have developed practices suited to local climates and ecosystems. Combining that experience with modern science can give us solutions that fit local conditions and are sustainable. Technology alone will not build the future of food. Science, experience and local knowledge together can.
Give young people a bigger role
Sri Lanka’s universities have an important part to play in shaping our food future. Young people should be encouraged to identify real problems in the food system and work on practical solutions in areas such as food waste, sustainable packaging, nutrition, food safety, modernising traditional foods and digital technologies.
A good research project should not always end as a research paper. Where appropriate, research should be supported to move on to products, technologies, enterprises and community solutions. That needs stronger partnerships between universities and industry, along with mentoring, research funding, business support and market connections. If young researchers and entrepreneurs can turn their ideas into viable food innovations, both consumers and producers will benefit.
A pathway designed for Sri Lanka
We do not need to copy food-system models from other countries. We can build a pathway that suits our own resources, culture and needs. It would bring together local resources, traditional knowledge, scientific research, appropriate technology and entrepreneurship, with farmers, fishers, universities, research institutions, food industries, entrepreneurs and policymakers working side by side.
The goal goes beyond selling raw materials. We need to create more value, reduce waste, improve nutrition, generate jobs and strengthen rural livelihoods. This matters especially for small and medium-scale food enterprises, which can drive local economic development when they get the right technical, financial and market support.
The choices we make today
The food future will not create itself. It will be shaped by what we grow, what we research, what we process, what we consume and what we choose not to waste.
So, the question for World Food Day 2026 is this: what can we do today so that every Sri Lankan has safe, nutritious, affordable and sustainable food tomorrow?
The answers are already around us, in our farms, fisheries, food businesses, universities, laboratories and communities. We have the resources, the traditional knowledge, the scientific expertise and talented young people. What we need now is to connect them and act.
A better food future begins with the choices we make today.
Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
Senior Lecturer, Department of Biosystems Technology, Faculty of Technology, University of Ruhuna
Features
20th Anniversary of Digampathana blast – the day Sri Lanka Navy cried
By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defence Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan
The Digampathana suicide truck attack on 16th October 2006 remains the deadliest single strike in Sri Lanka Navy history, leaving scars that time cannot erase.
It was a seemingly ordinary Monday morning on 16 October 2006, but the calm of that day would soon be shattered in a way none of us could have imagined. As the Commandant of the Naval and Maritime Academy and Flag Officer Commanding Naval Fleet at Trincomalee, I was aware that a number of my cadets were travelling that morning, part of a convoy of fifteen buses carrying naval personnel from Trincomalee, Colombo, and other bases, heading toward Dambulla to rendezvous with another group. The convoy also included trucks and escort vehicles, a routine movement planned and coordinated with the army to ensure the roads were clear. The morning started quietly. Some personnel greeted friends, handed over their weapons, or strolled to a nearby tea shop. It all seemed so ordinary—too ordinary for what would come next.

Sri Lanka Navy sunk LTTE Ships carrying arms, ammunition and warlike materials thousand miles away from Sri Lanka in Indian Ocean in September and October 2007.
By late morning, both convoys had reached the small ground at Digampathana, near the Sigiriya junction, and personnel mingled briefly, unaware that a carefully orchestrated act of terror was waiting. Then, suddenly, an empty half-truck veered directly into the convoy. It exploded with a ferocity I can still recall as if it were yesterday. Nuts, bolts, and high explosives tore through the air. Pandemonium erupted instantly. I later learned that 107 of our naval personnel were killed on the spot and another 153 critically injured. The scene was indescribable—bodies scattered, vehicles mangled, personal effects strewn across the ground. I remember later hearing that the head of the suicide bomber was recovered more than 100 meters away from the blast, a grim testament to the sheer force of the explosion.
I was in my office at the Naval and Maritime Academy when my mobile phone rang. A young midshipman from the 21st intake called, his voice trembling: “Sir, there was a huge explosion at the convoy point! Many are dead … my batch mate Wijesundara is among them.” I immediately jumped into my jeep with my escort Chief Petty Officer and driver and rushed to Digampathana, relying on every ounce of my driving skill to reach the scene. The journey, which usually took little more than an hour, felt endless that day, each passing mile weighed down by dread.
When I arrived, I was confronted with a sight that no training can prepare you for. The injured were being rushed to Dambulla Hospital, where doctors and nurses worked tirelessly, improvising in ways that saved lives despite the overwhelming chaos. I went back to the site after visiting the hospital. The remains of our naval personnel were scattered across the ground, and someone had begun collecting weapons and protective gear. I immediately contacted Surgeon Rear Admiral Nico Jayasekara and received his instructions: collect all body parts in separate bags and transport them to the Trincomalee Naval Hospital mortuary. This gruesome work had to be done with care and dignity, and it filled the icebox in my vehicle. Through DNA testing initiated by Rear Admiral Nico, we were able to identify every naval personnel lost that day, bringing some closure to grieving families.
The Navy Commander at the time, Vice Admiral Wasantha Karannagoda, was devastated. I had worked closely with him and knew how deeply he cared for his men. He ensured that the fallen were honoured with full ceremonial naval funerals at Welisara Naval Base, attended by families and comrades. Sixty-seven funerals were conducted in a single day—a number that still haunts me.
The Digampathana attack remains the largest single loss of naval life in our history. It was a day of sorrow, but also a day that reinforced our resolve. The tragedy galvanized the Navy to target the LTTE Sea Tiger wing with renewed determination and reshaped our maritime operations forever. Every time I think of that day, I remember not just the lives lost, but the courage, professionalism, and dedication of those who survived, those who treated the injured, and those who ensured the fallen were honored properly. May the souls of our naval hero’s rest in peace, their sacrifice guiding us and inspiring generations of naval personnel to come.
Features
‘Murder at Whitby Abbey’
Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 24
I was intrigued by the title of a book I found in a book drop at the condominium of a friend, Murder at Whitby Abbey, and I brought it home with me though I will not be able to return it in the near future. It was described on the cover page as ‘a standout in the crowded medieval mystery field’, though I fear I do not know of other books in this field, apart from the Cadfael series, which I have dealt with earlier.
The book, by Cassandra Clark, is set during the reign of Richard II and has as a backdrop his precarious position, which led to his being replaced, and murdered, by his cousin Henry, who reigned as Henry IV. It is a gloomy book, the action taking place in the twelve days of Christmas leading up to the Epiphany. And the gloom is pervasive, even though this is supposed to be a time of festivity, with mummers performing, and many of those in the guest house where the heroine stays going to town to enjoy themselves, with much drinking and much music, which also fills the guesthouse.
The heroine Hildegarde is a nun, sent to try to acquire a relic being sold by Whitby Abbey, though this was also a penance set by the Abbot of the monastery that governed her abbess because she had had sex with a man. Soon after she and her companions reach the Abbey set high on a cliff, she finds that there are other bidders, and soon suspects that the hierarchy, not perhaps the Abbot who seems a weakling, but his rapacious bursar, is determined to make money, and not above creating false relics to sell to several aspirants.
After Hildegarde and her Cistercian companions – Whitby is a Benedictine Foundation – two monks, Gregory and Egbert, and a young priest Mark, reach the abbey, they find that Aelwyn, a monk they had met on their way to the guesthouse had died. This was in the apple store, and they realize, when they find the surplices of novices stuffed into the air vents, that he had been left to suffocate in the overwhelming scent of apples.
The Cistercians are asked to look into the death, perhaps because they are likely to get no cooperation from the Abbey folk, but perhaps because those in charge are keen to know what happened. And the infirmarer, an old monk, suggests Hildegarde talk to a man called Edred who worked for the bursar, and had been a friend of Aelwyn’s. But Edred too is killed, before he can keep an appointment he had made with Hildegarde, drowned in a pool near the farmhouse of the Abbey.
Meanwhile tensions arise between the fisherfolk and the abbey for the bursar wants to charge them for using the beach that technically belongs to the abbey to dry their fish and their nets. This leads to physical battles, when the guards used by the abbey, under the command it seems of the bursar whose determination to make money is not resisted by the abbot and the prior, try to storm the area where the fishermen live.
Hildegard finds out more about what had happened through two youngsters, one of whom Torold is the son of Aelwyn by a woman who worked as a prostitute for a cartel, and with whom Mark fell in love. The other works on the farm and had seen Edred meet someone near the pool, after which that someone left the place by himself. And the boy had also found in the pool a sort of dagger with the seal of the abbey.
He and his dog, and Torold who follows her, rescue Hildegarde from a man at arms who has waylaid her and tries to rape her earlier. Escaping into the abbey she was nearly been raped then by the bursar, but she managed to escape, in the process setting fire to him and the muniments room, which led, when he was rescued, to the discovery of a box with the money he said had been stolen, blame being cast on both Aelwyn and Edred.
Matters come to a head when the fisherfolk try to storm the abbey, being resisted by the men at arms stationed on the towers. But then Hildegarde realizes that behind the murders was the bursar’s clerk, whom she pursued to the cathedral. There is great drama then as she escapes from him when he tries to kill her, and then from the man at arms who had tried to both rape and kill her, but they both fall from the scaffolding she had climbed, the latter coming from a tower where he had been stationed.
Both of them think they run the rapacity of the abbey, the latter claiming to work for the nobles opposed to Richard, who is presented throughout the book as devoted to his subjects, not to power or money. But though the villains die, the bursar continues, having got over the hysteria the fire had caused and his acknowledgment then of guilt – and though the abbot and the prior seem less vicious, whether they will be able to assert themselves is questionable.
Before the climax, when the others in the guesthouse were leaving, Hildegarde found that two of them were in possession of the relic, for which they seem to have paid well. Hildegarde herself had made a derisory offer, but before she leaves the abbot gives her the relic, perhaps in gratitude for what she and her fellow Cistercians had discovered, the abbey having made as much money as it needed and more from the gullible other buyers.
Mark’s inamorata is saved from the stews because she moves in with Edred’s widow whom the bursar had thrown out of the rooms he occupied when her husband was found dead. Hildegarde had paid for lodgings, in a house run by the man who ran the brothels, but he had a kindly side and was going to finance them to make nets for the fishermen.
So, the Cistercians set off for their home as swiftly as they can to get there on the day of the Epiphany, having stopped en route to pray for King Richard whose birthday it was.
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