In awe of Anuradhapura

Very much holier than Wordsworth’s beloved landscape, celebrated in his famous poem ‘Tintern Abbey Revisited’ which he describes as having ‘wild secluded scenes’, Anuradhapura, our grand ancient capital always holds for me a deep mystique with its hoary past. The seemingly, never-ending exquisite landscapes and woodlands with gaunt medium-height trees around all sacred places, apart from the grandeur of the huge dagobas etc, never dull the travel bug in you even with repeated visits.

Hence, my latest journey there for the fifth time in life on the eve of the last New Year festival. Unlike on earlier visits my objective this time was a more solemn one, namely to perform a spot of meditation before the sacred Bodhi Tree in accordance with my current spiritual pursuit.

Our first stopover was to pick up a friendly couple at Rambukkana, both my classmates at ‘A’ levels who were to provide us with accommodation in Anuradhapura through a friend of theirs. We reached A’pura around 10 o’clock and our first visit was to a relation who had come to live there more than 50 years ago. 'Rosalind akka’ had even carried me as a baby when my mother took me to the doctor whenever I fell ill. After a lengthy and nostalgic conversation on the good old days, we left there by about 3 o'clock to visit the sacred sites.

Postponing the visit to Sri Maha Bodhi for early morning in the morrow, we first visited the great dagoba Ruvanweliseya, the sheer enormity of which still continues not only to fascinate but dumbfound me as well. Repeated visits there engender newer discoveries in your comprehension of the place, so solemn and awe-inspiring in its ancient grandeur. It seemed this time in my mature years of life to represent the personality of its creator, the great king Gemunu who, hailing from Ruhuna raising a huge army brought the whole country under one flag after 40 years of Chola rule.

The very size of his creation displays the greatness of his faith in the Buddha, according to whose Dhamma he planned his life and the rule of the country in addition to many sacred sites he established. The mere purpose of building ‘Mirisavetiya’ dagoba also confirms this point – it was named thus as a mark of his compunction about inadvertently partaking of a meal with a chillie curry without first offering it as alms to the Sangha.

The other outstanding feature that captured my mind this time was the thick granite slabs that covered the vast amphitheatre of the maluwa surrounding Ruvanweliseya. No two slabs are identical in size and shape, so it indeed makes a strangely motley blend that compels anyone thoughtful to look deliberately at the uncommon pattern without passively passing it as a dull symmetrical pattern would have done. This is of course secondary in significance to the viewing of the dagoba while perambulating round it, yet a feature that surely makes the thoughtful concentrate on the king’s wisdom in saving time and resources by avoiding the drudgery of cutting the blocks in identical shape and size.

The restoration work undertaken by the Central Cultural Fund at Jethavana and Abhayagiri dagobas appeared to progress at a steady pace and groups of devotees visiting these sites were helping the work by, for example, passing the buckets of plaster over. I myself had immense pleasure in joining a bunch of young people from the countryside engaged in this task. We heard that Maharagama Dharmayathanaya brought a group of devotees regularly for this meritorious work.

One possibly negative point about the kind of plaster currently being used in this work as an innovative idea is the use of anthill earth brought from various parts of the country together with chaff and other materials. This practice of pulling down anthills could only be justified if it were done after the ants have left their home which was made by sheer hard work taking a long time and effort. Even the story that a monkey offered the Buddha as alms a honey-comb has been made possible as the bees are known to leave their home with some honey still remaining in it. It is otherwise not at all possible that the Buddha who had great compassion towards animals would approve of chasing away bees to plunder their hard-gained food.

Gunasekera, a rustic villager in charge of a group of workers at a restoration site was one imbued with unusual seriousness about the work inspired by the true spirit of religion and culture. He was wearing a medicinal collar on his neck as he had fallen off a high spot of the dagoba while straining to pull out a wild bush. He said that he had felt as if two hands had taken hold of him preventing him hurtling down which miraculously saved his life. (Dhammo haveerakkathi Dhammacari)

Our final visit was to the Maha Bodhi where I offered a saffron robe as a wish to be a monk in my next birth. This I had performed also at the Temple of the Sacred Tooth in Kandy a few weeks ago. Having done that I sat in meditation at a corner of the lower terrace for a good half hour until the place was closed at 12 noon.

One untoward thing I experienced both in Kandy and at the Bodhi was that the devotees never cared to be calm and quiet while worshipping so that others could recite their ‘gathas’ in mind or even perform a spot of meditation. This is indeed the result of Sri Lankans not caring for meditation, the most important practice of the Dhamma according to the Buddha, and also as emphasized by Ven. Ajahn Brahmavamso of Australia in his sermon delivered at Kalutara recently.

Anuradhapura, is a place where homeless ascetics find a veritable haven to pursue their spiritual ends. I met three such individuals there this time, one layman and two monks. One of these monks was in deep meditation inside the picturesque elephant wall of Ruvanweliseya and our walking past him did not appear to affect his calm meditative posture. The other monk, a young person of about 35 years, just emerged from the woodland beside the ‘Eth Pokuna’ (The pond for elephants) and was walking quietly away. He had the real look of an ascetic with apparently little attachment to the secular world.

While we were watching he disappeared in the distance with his begging bowl hanging from his shoulder. The layman was of about 80 years wearing a white cloth and shirt and he told me that he had spent nearly five years in the Sri Pada forest reserve meditating and only came out to take treatment for his failing eyesight.

We left Anuradhapura on the afternoon of the second day visiting Vijithapura and Aukana on the way. The great rock statue from below looked to me more attractive than on pictures taken at a straight angle. My last thought at Aukana was that all that grandeur we saw at Anuradhapura was made possible by the sheer spiritual height attained by the Buddha which will continue to inspire and motivate millions of more devotees to take to “the path” in the years to come.