Hidden beneath the ancient canopy of Sri Lanka’s dry forests and shaded cliff faces lies a gallery like no other — a prehistoric museum where stone meets story. Painted and engraved thousands of years ago, these rock surfaces reveal how early islanders saw their world: not as conquerors, but as companions to the wild.

Among the elephants, deer, and human forms that adorn these caves, reptiles take centre stage — monitor lizards, crocodiles, tortoises, pythons, and geckos, all rendered with striking realism and reverence.

“Each stroke, each figure, is a message from the island’s earliest naturalists,” says Dr. Nimal Rathnayake, archaeologist and herpetologist, who has explored dozens of rock shelters across the island. “They reveal not only how our ancestors lived, but how deeply they observed and understood reptiles — the creatures that shared their landscapes.”

Ancient Art, Living Legacy

The world’s oldest known cave paintings — abstract symbols in Spain’s Cave of Maltravieso — date back some 64,000 years, likely drawn by Neanderthals. In Indonesia, a wild pig painted 45,500 years ago represents the earliest figurative art.

In Sri Lanka, cave paintings at Fa-Hien Lena in the Western Province, dated to over 11,000 years old, mark South Asia’s oldest known artistic expressions. These vivid works portray human and animal figures with a symbolic richness that still defies complete interpretation.

“Every pigment, every chipped line represents a memory,” says Dr. Rathnayake. “These caves are living archives — where biodiversity and belief converge.”

Sri Lanka’s Reptilian Heritage in Paint

Sri Lanka’s record of prehistoric rock art parallels its modern status as a biodiversity hotspot. With 246 known reptile species — including 164 endemic to the island — it is no surprise that early inhabitants immortalised them on stone.

“From pythons and crocodiles to geckos and tortoises, reptiles dominate many of these cave paintings,” says Dr. Rathnayake. “These weren’t random decorations. The proportions, the posture, the detailing — all reveal an astonishing level of observation. These people knew their reptiles.”

Sites like Dorawakakanda, Tharulengala, Tantirimale, and Phillegodagalge show depictions of land monitors (Varanus bengalensis), star tortoises (Geochelone elegans), mugger crocodiles (Crocodylus palustris), Indian rock pythons (Python molurus), and the iconic Sri Lankan golden rock gecko (Calodactylodes illingworthorum).

The Tharulengala Wonder

In the dry lowlands of Hulannuge, Ampara, stands one of Sri Lanka’s most extraordinary rock art sites — the Tharulengala Rock Cave. Carbon dating places its paintings at around 4,800 years old. The cave’s 16-metre wall bursts with figures: humans, elephants, and reptiles painted in ash, red, and white pigments.

Among the most striking is an enormous gecko — nearly 84 cm in length — believed to represent Calodactylodes illingworthorum, the Sri Lankan golden rock gecko. “It’s almost herpetologically accurate,” Dr. Rathnayake notes. “The limbs, digits, and the curved tail — even the clusters of eggs painted nearby — correspond exactly with how we see them in nature today.”

Other reptiles — a crocodile, a Russell’s viper, and a land monitor — share the same wall, painted in naturalistic proportions. Archaeologists once mistook the gecko for a crocodile, but closer zoological study proved otherwise. “It’s a perfect example of art meeting science across millennia,” Rathnayake adds.

Dorawakakanda’s Engraved Menagerie

In Kegalle’s wet zone, Dorawakakanda Cave offers a different form of artistry. Instead of pigments, its ancient occupants used chisels — or rather, sharp stones — to engrave shapes into rock. Here, elephants, fish, humans, and two land monitors stand etched into the stone.

“Imagine carving these without metal tools,” says Dr. Rathnayake, admiring the craftsmanship. “The engravings capture both movement and life — even after two thousand years.”

The site’s significance extends beyond artistry. “These images show ecological coexistence,” he explains. “It tells us that people of this era didn’t just hunt; they observed, respected, and recorded what they saw.”

Phillegodagalge: The Python’s Shadow

Deep in Kudimbigala Forest Heritage, near the entrance to Kumana National Park, lies the cavernous Phillegodagalge Cave. At first glance, its long, ribbed figures resemble centipedes. But closer analysis reveals the unmistakable form of the Indian rock python (Python molurus).

“The rib patterns are too consistent for an invertebrate,” says Dr. Rathnayake. “These were skilled observers — the ribs, length, and proportions point clearly to a python.”

Deraniyagala’s early research suggested that pythons were consumed by prehistoric hunters, a fact echoed in the site’s depictions. “What you see here could be both a record of diet and devotion,” he adds. “A species feared, revered, and ultimately remembered in art.”

Tantirimale: Crocodiles and Sea Turtles

In the North Central Province, the caves of Tantirimale house some of the most evocative prehistoric paintings on the island. Believed to date back 4,000 years, these artworks feature geometric patterns and animal figures — including a Leatherback Turtle (Dermochelys coriacea) and a Crocodile.

“The artist has even captured the ridges on the turtle’s shell,” notes Dr. Rathnayake. “It’s a remarkably accurate representation.” Archaeological excavations in Anuradhapura unearthed marine turtle bones dating to around 800 BC — evidence that sea turtles were traded or used for ornaments. “That connection between coastal species and inland art tells us these people were travellers, traders, and naturalists,” he adds.

Two Women’s Cave — Genu Dennage Galge

Few sites in Sri Lanka remain as hauntingly untouched as the Two Women’s Cave, or Genu Dennage Galge, at Buddama Village in Monaragala. Its single chamber, framed by drip-ledges to divert water, contains ghostly figures of elephants, birds, and a land monitor painted in white and green pigment. “This cave might have had a very different purpose,” says Dr. Rathnayake. “Based on the drawings, it could have been a slaughterhouse — a place where animals were slaughtered for food. The land monitor, prominently displayed, reflects what was most commonly hunted and eaten.” The scene includes possible depictions of deer, birds, and elephants — but it’s the monitor that commands attention. “Even in death, it was remembered,” he says softly.

Who Were the Artists?

Scholars like H.C.P. Bell, the Seligmanns, and Somadeva agree that these paintings are the work of Veddas, Sri Lanka’s indigenous hunter-gatherers. Early 20th-century Vedda women told the Seligmanns that they created drawings while waiting for their men to return from hunting, mixing ash and saliva to make paint and applying it with their fingers.

But not all art is ancient. “In some caves, we find recent graffiti and carvings by visitors,” Dr. Rathnayake warns. “Distinguishing authentic prehistoric art from modern additions is a challenge — one that calls for better protection and research.”

Conservation: An Urgent Call

Despite their age and significance, many of Sri Lanka’s rock art sites remain vulnerable. At Tharulengala and Dorawakakanda, visitors have carved their names or touched the paintings, smudging ash drawings that survived nearly five millennia. “Even geckos — ironically, the same species painted on the walls — lay their eggs on these surfaces, further damaging the art,” notes Dr. Rathnayake. “We need a clear, coordinated conservation plan. Spraying protective acrylic coatings, managing access, and continuous monitoring are essential steps.”

The Archaeology Department, he believes, must work with herpetologists, conservators, and local communities. “These are not just archaeological artefacts; they are ecological documents — the earliest evidence of humans recording wildlife.”

Echoes in Stone

Standing inside Tharulengala or Two Women’s Cave, one can almost hear the prehistoric hum of life. The same geckos that inspired early artists still cling to those walls, their eggs adhering beside their ancient likenesses.

“These caves are time capsules,” Dr. Rathnayake reflects. “Few places in the world allow such direct continuity between species and story.”

For him, the study of rock art is more than academic. It’s an act of cultural and environmental recovery — a reminder that Sri Lanka’s earliest artists were also its first conservationists.

“They didn’t separate art, nature, or spirituality,” he says. “They lived within them. That’s the message we must rediscover today.”

By Ifham Nizam ✍️