
Deep in the north central plain of Sri Lanka, along the banks of the historic Malwathu Oya, lies a vast network of ancient temples and monasteries spanning over one hundred square kilometres.
In the tenth century BCE, long before the chroniclers of the Great Chronicle, the Mahāvaṃsa, began to commit the triumphs of kings to palm leaves, a settlement was already breathing along the banks of the Malwathu Oya. The archaeological record shows that this was a community of the early Iron Age—a people who worked metal, rode horses, kept domestic cattle, and cultivated paddy in the fertile, irrigable soils of Sri Lanka’s north-central plain. Surrounded by a dense, protective belt of jungle and situated strategically between the island’s northwest and northeast ports, the settlement swelled. By the seventh century BCE, it covered at least fifty hectares, its inhabitants using Plain Grey Ware pottery that pointed to trading connections stretching deep into Northern India. When King Pandukabhaya formally established his capital here in 377 BCE, naming it Anuradhapura, he was not creating a city from nothing, but rather giving a monumental political shape to a place that had already served as a vital human hearth for centuries. Under his planning, the city acquired formal gates, designated quarters for merchants, and a grid that eventually spanned a square kilometre—making it one of the largest and most sophisticated urban centres on the Asian continent during the classical era.
What emerged over the next millennium was the cradle of the hydraulic Sinhalese civilization, an extraordinary urban ecosystem sustained by a vast, intricate network of artificial reservoirs, or "tanks." To support a population that grew to immense proportions—at its height, the city’s scale invited comparisons to the colossal dimensions of Nineveh and Babylon—the kings of Rajarata mastered the flow of water. They constructed massive earthen dams and stone-lined bathing and drinking pools, known as pokunas, which were scattered throughout the urban landscape. This mastery of water was not merely utilitarian; it was the lifeblood of a grand partnership between the state and the Buddhist sangha. When the Indian prince-monk Mahinda introduced Theravada Buddhism to the island in the third century BCE during the reign of Devanampiya Tissa, the religion became inextricably linked with the crown. The royal family and the nobility patronized massive monasteries, commissioning intricate works of art and donating vast resources to the temples. In return, the monastic communities legitimized the king's rule. This symbiotic relationship transformed Anuradhapura into a legendary intellectual and spiritual capital. It attracted revered philosophers such as Buddhaghosa and became the stage for monumental acts of devotion, including a grand redaction of the Theravada Buddhist canon under King Dhatusena in the fifth century CE.
The architectural expression of this spiritual devotion was monumental, dominated by the —huge, bell-shaped masses of solid brick masonry that punctured the tropical canopy. Some of these stupas measured over eleven hundred feet in circumference, containing enough brickwork to construct a town for twenty-five thousand people. Alongside these giant domes lay vast monastic complexes like the Anuradhapura Maha Viharaya and the famous Brazen Palace, erected by King Dutugemunu (Datagamana) around 164 BCE. Yet the most sacred heart of this vast network of temples, which eventually covered over one hundred square kilometres, was not made of brick or stone. It was, and remains, the Jaya Sri Maha Bodhi. Planted in the third century BCE, this sacred fig tree was grown from a sapling of the original Bodhi tree under which Gautama Buddha attained enlightenment in Bodh Gaya, India. Today, it stands as the oldest still-living, documented, planted tree in the world, having been tended continuously by an unbroken line of guardians through every convulsion of the island’s history.
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That history was often violent. Anuradhapura’s wealth and strategic importance made it a frequent target for South Indian dynasties. The city suffered repeatedly during early Tamil invasions, yet it proved remarkably resilient, surviving as the longest-serving ancient capital of Sri Lanka for fifteen hundred years. The end of its political supremacy, however, came abruptly at the turn of the eleventh century CE. In 993 CE, the Chola emperor Rajaraja I invaded the island, followed by his son Rajendra I in 1014 CE. The Chola armies utterly destroyed the city, looting its shrines and putting its grand edifices to the torch. The political center of the Sinhalese kingdom shifted south to Polonnaruwa, and the royal court never permanently returned to the banks of the Malwathu Oya. Though later kings, such as Vijayabahu IV in the late thirteenth century, made fleeting attempts to restore the grand monuments and re-establish a royal presence, the jungle slowly reclaimed the brick domes and stone pillars.
For centuries, Anuradhapura existed as a ghost in the forest, a "small mean village, in the midst of a desert," as the English writer John Davy described it in 1821. Yet it was never entirely forgotten. Even when the region was sparsely populated and plagued by malaria, the local people maintained a quiet awareness of the ruins. The British captive Robert Knox, writing in 1681, noted that a watch was still kept at the ruined city on behalf of the King of Kandy, beyond which lay wild, uninhabited territory. Throughout these dark centuries, Buddhist pilgrims continued to brave the jungle paths, wild animals, and fever to pay homage to the Jaya Sri Maha Bodhi and the great crumbling dagobas.
The modern resurrection of Anuradhapura began in the 1870s under British colonial administration. Recognizing the immense historical and spiritual significance of the site, colonial authorities cleared away the choking jungle, laid bare the stone platforms, and began the monumental task of restoring the ancient irrigation tanks, breathing agricultural life back into the surrounding plains. The arrival of the Northern Railway line in 1904 transformed the sleepy administrative post into a bustling transport hub, reconnecting the north-central plains with the rest of the island.
This rapid modern growth, however, posed a direct threat to the fragile, sacred ruins. By the mid-twentieth century, a bold preservation strategy was required. In 1949, the Government of Ceylon commissioned the architect Oliver Weerasinghe to design the Anuradhapura Preservation Plan. The solution was radical: the creation of an entirely new, planned "New Town" to the east of the historic center. Over the following decades, administrative offices, courts, businesses, and residential quarters were systematically relocated outside the archaeological zone. Under the energetic direction of Nissanka Wijeyeratne, who served as the Government Agent and Chairman of the Preservation Board from 1958 to 1962, this transition was realized, establishing the tranquil "Sacred City" we see today. In 1982, this vast landscape of memory, faith, and ancient engineering was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Today, Anuradhapura functions as a unique dual entity: a modern provincial capital and a living museum of human civilization, where orange-robed monks and white-clad pilgrims still walk among the same stone pillars that sheltered the philosophers of the ancient world.