Lock-jaw over Sigiriya history

“Art lovers and patriots alike in Ceylon are recovering, as it were, from a nightmare, thanks largely to the patience and skill of a single scientist. That experience should emphasise the lesson that a nation is not served by its politicians alone.”
________________

By Gamini Weerakoon

(September 21, Colombo, Sri Lanka Guardian) Sigiriya attracts visitors — Sri Lankans and foreigners — for different reasons than other Sri Lankan historical sites. Whereas other historical sites are essentially places of religious worship, emanating peace and tranquillity, Sigiriya perpetuates the memory of a macho Sinhala prince, a parricide who pilloried his father to the bund of a reservoir, drove his brother into exile and fortified himself on top of the massive granite hill.

The lion head through which the granite stairs pass to the top of the rock, the fantastic bare-breasted maidens adorning the walls of the boulder, the pleasure gardens down below with spouting water fountains, and the moat surrounding the rock, have made Sri Lankans and even foreign scholars fantasise about the god king – the stuff of Hollywood fantasies. It has already resulted in the production of a film with Sigiriya as a backdrop.

Romance of Sigiriya

Reputed historians — modern day and of the past — and archaeologists have subscribed to this view of Kassapa, a god king, ruling atop Sigiriya for 18 years with beautiful women abounding in his court, surrounded by ponds and water fountains in picturesque surroundings until his brother came back to avenge the father’s murder. Even the Mahavamsa, the ancient chronicle about Sri Lankan monarchs, records that Kassapa built a palace and ruled from Sigiriya.

Wet blanket

However, six years ago a reputed scientist and archaeologist, who for nearly three decades has been researching and preserving Sigiriya, threw a wet blanket on the romanticised story of Sigiriya.

Dr. Raja de Silva, the former Archaeological Commissioner, came out with a revolutionary theory about this rock fortress that destroyed much of the romanticised version.

After painstaking research, his basic conclusions were: Kassapa did not build a palace at Sigiriya. He could not have built such a palace on top of the Sigiriya rock because it is assailed by severe monsoonal winds for eight of the 12 months of the year, and this would have made it impossible to complete a palace within his 18 year reign.

Literary evidence indicates that it was probably an abode of Mahayana monks. Kassapa was a patron of Theravada Buddhism, but leaning towards Mahayana Buddhism. The paintings at Sigiriya are not of ladies in the king’s court or divine ‘Apsaras,’ but of the ‘greatest and the most adored goddess of Mahayana Buddhism’ — Tara.

De Silva’s book, Sigiriya And Its Significance: A Mahayana Theravada Buddhist Monastery, was published six years ago. Usually, such outrageous and ‘heretical’ views on subjects long accepted by the people cause social and intellectual upheavals, but that was not the case. The academic establishment has maintained a deafening silence on this heretical view.

There has been widespread speculation in academic circles about this chronic lock-jaw developed by these usually loquacious academics and bureaucrats, particularly because of allegations of a collaboration between the two parties, particularly in view of a Norwegian proposal to stage a ‘Son et Lumiere’ for European tourists at Sigiriya

Sigiriya Paintings

Sigiriya Paintings, a comprehensive book on Sigiriya that reiterates De Silva’s views, has now come out. The pundits of Sigiriya, now neck-deep in developments such as the Sigiriya Museum, will find this book hard to ignore. The 220-page book, well-illustrated with colour and black and white photographs, is a challenge to the Sigiriya experts, who will now be required to match historical facts with their romantic version of Sigiriya.

In his recent writings, De Silva has commented on the absence of any criticism of his first book:

“No seasoned criticism of my interpretations of the significance of Sigiriya has been published by any local scholar during the past six years, presumably on the theory that what constitutes a snag to the acceptance of one’s own theories is best left alone and ignored.”

Nonetheless, De Silva points out that his theory has been endorsed and commended by scholars such as Professor N.A. Jayawickrema in Sri Lanka and Professors James Harle and Richard Gombrich of Oxford.

De Silva may not necessarily be correct in all his contentions. Yet his views as an Oxford scholar (D. Phil.) and work as an archaeologist for 37 years in the Archaeological Survey Department as an Assistant Commissioner and Commissioner of Archaeology, and later as an Advisor in Archaeology, deserves at least some comment from historians and archaeologists.

Only one scholar, Dr. Siri Gunasinghe, has offered a critique, which De Silva has published and responded to in his latest book. Perhaps writing academic papers as a sheer intellectual exercise is a thing of the past. A research paper commissioned by a foreign think tank is delightful because it is unbelievably rewarding.

Forgotten saviour

De Silva is not well known to the younger generations, but back in the ’60s he was considered as much of a hero as some of today’s leading war heroes. Together with the Italian art restorer Lusiano Maranzi, he restored the Sigiriya paintings after a shocking act of vandalism. Someone had thrown ink and paint at the frescoes, obliterating almost all of them. The Daily News editorial of October 27, 1967 says it all:

“To few men is it given to serve history as Dr. Rajah H. De Silva has done. By salvaging the Sigiriya frescoes from the vandalism of maniacs he has put both the nation and the world under a debt to him. He has lifted the gloom that descended on the country over the past week after the news of the havoc wrought at Sigiriya had first reached the people. The chances are now that all but two of the damaged paintings will be restored...

“Art lovers and patriots alike in Ceylon are recovering, as it were, from a nightmare, thanks largely to the patience and skill of a single scientist. That experience should emphasise the lesson that a nation is not served by its politicians alone.”

That was 42 years ago, when Rajah De Silva was declared the “saviour” of the nation. But a few weeks ago his fellow archaeologists and historians did not even care to extend an invitation card to the opening of the multi-billion rupee (courtesy of the Japanese government) Sigiriya Museum.

-Sri Lanka Guardian