Day 28 - The Poson Perahara

The golden hues of dawn had barely touched the fields of Pattiyawala when I found myself rubbing sleep from my eyes, still wrapped in the lingering chill of the night spent under the stars. My host and I had kept vigil over the swaying paddy, guarding it like silent sentinels. Now, with the sun climbing higher, my only thought was the sweet promise of a proper bed. But fate or perhaps the mischievous spirits of the village had other plans.

Three of my students, their faces alight with excitement, appeared like woodland sprites, blocking my path. “Akka, you must come tonight!” they insisted, their voices a chorus of urgency. “We’re dancing in the Perahara!” At that moment, I didn’t yet grasp the significance of their invitation. But how could I refuse?

Tonight was no ordinary night, it was the annual Poson Perahara in Horowpothana, a radiant tapestry of faith, history, and community. While Vesak is celebrated island-wide with lanterns and devotion, Poson Poya (June) holds a deeper resonance here, especially in Anuradhapura, where Buddhism first took root in Sri Lanka over two millennia ago.

Legend whispers that it was under the Poson full moon in 247 BCE that Arahat Mahinda, son of Emperor Ashoka, stood atop Missaka Pawwa (Mihintale) and preached to King Devanampiyatissa, converting him and the island to Buddhism. That moment forever changed Sri Lanka’s soul. And tonight, Horowpothana would relive that legacy.

By 7 PM, the village’s only van, a chariot of sorts rumbled to a stop outside my door. Inside, laughter and chatter spilled out like a bubbling stream. I climbed in, still unaware of the spectacle awaiting me.

As we rolled into town, the air itself seemed to shimmer with anticipation. The streets were lined with villagers, elders with weathered smiles, children perched on shoulders, mothers watching eagerly, all waiting for the procession to begin. No photograph could ever capture the electric unity of that night, the way drumbeats pulsed through the earth, how the scent of incense curled around us like an embrace.

The Perahara wound through the streets like a river of light, culminating at the Horowpothana Rajamaha Viharaya. Until midnight, we stood transfixed, cheering as dancers whirled, drummers thundered, and marched with solemn grace.

But the true crown jewel of the night was a magnificent float depicting the iconic moment: Arahat Mahinda halting King Devanampiyatissa’s arrow mid-flight, sparing a deer’s life while imparting the Buddha’s teachings. The scene glowed under the moonlight, a living testament to compassion and enlightenment.

Yet, the most beautiful tradition remained, the boundless generosity of the people. Stalls overflowed with kiri bath (milk rice), kokis, vadai, and sweetmeats, all offered freely to strangers and neighbours alike. In this act of dana (giving), the true spirit of Poson shone brightest.

As I finally returned home, my heart was full. The Perahara was more than a festival, it was a living story, a bridge between past and present, and a reminder that faith, community, and kindness still dance beneath Sri Lanka’s stars.

P.S: No elephants were used in this Perahara, a personal win in my eyes.