In a world where modernity often tramples tradition, author and researcher Asiff Hussein is making a strong case for why Sri Lanka must revisit its ancient practices, legends, and medical knowledge. Hussein, whose latest book, The Zeylonese Treasure Book of Myth, Mystery and Mystique, explores forgotten layers of history, folklore, and science, argues that many traditions are not merely quaint relics but repositories of wisdom waiting to be rediscovered.

“There is a reason for traditions to evolve and take root in any given community. Else they wouldn’t be there in the first place,” Hussein told The Island. “Many of these have stood the test of time and to discard them would be to disregard valuable knowledge passed down to us through countless generations.”

Cravings and Science in Tradition

Hussein illustrates this point with the concept of dola-duka, or pregnancy cravings. “The Sinhala word dola comes from the Sanskrit dvihrda, meaning ‘two hearts’ – the desire of both the mother and the unborn child. Such cravings are often the body’s way of responding to deficiencies,” he explained. A woman craving sour foods may be seeking vitamin C, while a desire for meat may reflect her body’s need for protein. Even a craving for sprats can be interpreted as the body’s way of replenishing calcium.

“These practices are not superstition. They show that our ancestors observed and internalised biological truths long before the arrival of modern medicine,” Hussein said.

Myths, Legends and the Roots of History

For Hussein, Sri Lanka’s ancient chronicles such as the Mahavamsa and the Yalppana Vaipava Malai deserve deeper respect. “One simply cannot dismiss these records as myths just because they don’t tally with our current understanding,” he stressed.

A medical palm leaf manuscript in Sinhala in the possession of a Moor family of Gevilipitiya. Courtesy Asiff Hussein

The Mahavamsa refers to peoples such as the Yakkhas, Nagas and Rakshasas. Hussein believes these may have been early inhabitants of the island whose languages and cultures left indelible marks on Sinhala. He points out that many common Sinhala words such as kola (leaf), linda (well), gediya (fruit), and bilinda (child) are neither Aryan nor Dravidian in origin, but remnants of older, forgotten tongues. “Indeed there may have been not just one, but several such ghost languages that left their mark on Sinhala,” he explains. The existence of synonymous words of obscure origin in Sinhala suggests there were more than one non-Aryan, non-Dravidian people living here long before recorded history,” Hussein argues.

The Buddha and the Solar Eclipse

Even seemingly miraculous stories in the chronicles, Hussein believes, may have real historical underpinnings. For instance, the Mahavamsa describes how the Buddha once appeared in Nagadipa and enveloped warring Nagas in darkness before restoring the light.

Hussein points to the work of Brigadier Siri Munasinghe and Dr. Kavan Ratnatunga, who suggest this episode may have been inspired by a total solar eclipse in 481 BC, visible from Jaffna. “That event, considered miraculous at the time, may have been attributed by later monks to the Buddha. We must not dismiss such accounts outright, but examine how natural phenomena were remembered and mythologised,” he said.

“Thus, we cannot discount such ancient knowledge as mere myth but need to probe deeper with a scientific mind to get at the truth.”

Medical Lore: From Ola Manuscripts to Modern Science

Hussein is equally committed to reviving respect for Sri Lanka’s traditional medical knowledge. “Yes, we need to open our minds to harvesting ancient knowledge rather than disregarding it outright,” he said, lamenting that modern medicine often dismisses indigenous practices as quackery.

He reminds us that Eastern medical traditions go back centuries. King Aggabodhi VII, for instance, studied local herbs and their effects on human health, a practice recorded in the Chulavamsa. Much of this knowledge, Hussein notes, is preserved in ola leaf manuscripts kept by medical families, temples, and libraries.

He recalls the pioneering work of Dr. C.G. Uragoda, who demonstrated scientific bases for age-old remedies such as the use of Venivel against tetanus and the concept of “heatiness” in foods, which he linked to histamine content. Portuguese chronicler João Ribeiro, writing in the 1600s, even claimed that local physicians could treat cancer and heal broken bones within days using herbal methods. Robert Knox, the English captive of Kandy, likewise described how villagers used herbs to set bones and treat sores.

“These observations should not be ignored. They demand rigorous study,” Hussein said. “Sadly, our medical fraternity has to break away from their brusque ways and look at local knowledge from a fresh and inquiring perspective rather than dismiss these claims as quackery.”

Holding On and Letting Go

Yet, Hussein is pragmatic about traditions that no longer serve a practical purpose. “There is no need to stick to them other than for sentimental or aesthetic reasons,” he said.

One example is the khaki police uniform, a colonial relic from British India. “The word khaki means dusty, and it was chosen for camouflage in India’s arid environment. But why must Sri Lankan police still wear an unsightly colour that resembles human waste? Even police in desert countries like Algeria and Egypt wear smart blue uniforms,” Hussein observed.

Asiff Hussein in his younger days with Vedda chieftain Uruvarige Vanniyalaatto at his home in Dambana

On the other hand, some traditions may endure for aesthetic or cultural reasons. Mosque minarets, for instance, once allowed the call to prayer to reach greater distances before loudspeakers existed. Today, Hussein notes, they serve mainly as architectural symbols but could regain relevance if noise pollution forces communities to revert to the human voice.

Revivals for a Better Future

Importantly, Hussein believes certain old traditions could be creatively revived. Among them are clay and wattle-and-daub houses, which he says are perfectly suited for Sri Lanka’s tropical climate.

“These houses are naturally cool, and architects should seriously consider modern designs using thick clay walls, which slow down heat flow and allow for insulation. When I was in New Mexico in 2010, I noticed adobe houses served the same function in arid climates. We should not dismiss our indigenous architecture,” he explained.

A Living Body of Knowledge

For Hussein, the real challenge is in knowing which traditions to preserve, which to let go, and which to adapt for the future. “Traditions come about due to certain conditions. If those conditions no longer prevail, we can move on. But if they still have practical or aesthetic value, or can be adapted, we should not discard them blindly,” he reflected.

His approach is neither romantic nor rigid. It is, instead, a call for balance: to honour the past without being enslaved by it, and to embrace modern science without arrogance.

As our conversation drew to a close, Hussein left me with a reminder: “None are so blind as those who refuse to see. We need to look at our traditions afresh, with open eyes and inquisitive minds. Only then can we sift the truths from the myths and use that knowledge to enrich our modern lives.”

By Ifham Nizam ✍️