Tara, have pity on us …

Walking through the National Museum, one cannot stop thinking of the decline, not just in historic times, but in the present day as well. When 40% of the country’s children are malnourished or going hungry, and there are no funds to provide them with adequate food or health care, how can we complain about unkempt museums? Or the underfed, poorly housed, wretched animals in the national zoological gardens? Diverting funds to museums while kids are starving is not a wise thing to do; we saw what happened in Bamiyan in 2001.

by Geewananda Gunawardana, Ph.D.

Sri Lanka government’s renewed demand for the return of the famous statue of goddess Tara in the British Museum prompted me to thumb through a now crumbling book titled “A Catalogue of Antiquities and Other Cultural Objects from Sri Lanka (Ceylon) Abroad.” This 500-page book, written by the late Dr. P. H. D. H. De Silva, and published by the National Museum of Sri Lanka in 1975, lists thousands of artifacts found in 140 institutions in twenty-seven countries. A little under half the book, 235 pages to be exact, is on artefacts in British institutions; obviously, Tara is not the only item ‘missing.’

I have had the fortune to visit some of the major institutions listed in this book, and each visit left me with mixed emotions. On one hand, I am proud that a token of my heritage is on display for the world to see. On the other hand, I cannot stop wondering if these thousands of artifacts had remained in the country, what would have been their fate and conditions today.

The first thing that crosses my mind is how I feel when I visit the Archaeological Museum in Kandy, where a replica of the crown of king Rajasinghe II (1612-1678) is on display. Yes, a replica, you read it correctly. The legend has that the king, on his way to the famous battle at Gannoruwa, made a vow that if he wins, he will offer his golden crown to Dodanwela Natha Devale. After routing the Portuguese in the epic battle, the king kept his word. Since the historic win in 1638, the crown remained at Dodanwela until it was moved to the Kandy Museum for added security. On September 18,1961, the crown was stolen. By the time the authorities tracked down the robbers, the crown was already melted for its gold. The irony is that if the robbers had any inkling as to how much it would have fetched in the antiquities market this invaluable item would still be sitting in a museum somewhere.

Then in 1967, vandals destroyed five of the Sigiriya frescoes and the rest were doused with paint. Fortunately, the frescoes doused with paint were restored, but the rest remain beyond repair for everyone to see. Not so long ago, the National Museum was burgled, and a number of valuable items were taken. Rumors circled about the possible involvement of prominent figures and the law enforcement. Artefacts disappearing from temples and other places of worship have become common place. Often the guardians themselves barter them to foreigners on the pretext of raising funds for restoration; I have come across a few architectural pieces in western antique shops, supposedly acquired in this fashion. I remember a time when the door jambs leading to the inner shrine at Dalada Maligawa were adorned with intricate ivory carvings. Historic structures are often the target of treasure hunters, at times on the pretext of restoration.

The truth is that we do not have a credible track record of protecting the treasures we have. There are invaluable artifacts in various museums in the country, but the conditions in which these treasures are displayed or stored are less than desirable for the tropical conditions. Walking through the National Museum, one cannot stop thinking of the decline, not just in historic times, but in the present day as well. When 40% of the country’s children are malnourished or starving and there are no funds to provide them with adequate food or health care, how can we complain about unkempt museums? Or the underfed, poorly housed, wretched animals in the national zoological gardens? Diverting funds to museums while kids are starving is not a wise thing to do; we saw what happened in Bamiyan in 2001.

During a recent visit to a local temple, the venerable chief incumbent showed me several piles of disintegrating ola leaf books. He had informed the responsible agency about them years before, but nothing had happened. This reminds me of the famous Hugh Nevill collection in the British Library. There are over two thousand documents, and the catalogue itself has seven volumes. The originals are kept under the best of conditions; and someday, they will be readily accessible online as with many other documents. I wonder how many of these documents would have survived if they remained scattered in temples and ancestral homes throughout Sri Lanka. Unfortunately, the hot and humid conditions are not very friendly to ola leaves or paper. Historians and scholars suspect that the original Sinhala document that Buddhagosa used for his translations may have disintegrated under these harsh conditions.

Going back to Tara in the British Museum, my heart says that we should get her back, but my head says that she would be better off where she is. Last year, the British Museum reported 5,820,860 visitors, and over half of them from other countries. Tara stands in a very prominent place in the museum and is that not good exposure for a cash strapped country? I would say, Tara, have pity on us, but please stay where you are. When we figure out how to feed our kids, someday, you can visit your homeland.