I began my journey through Sri Lanka in Colombo, back in Post #237, Echoes of Empire. I visited the National Museum, a gleaming white building founded in 1877, and walked through the old Town Hall (and yes, posed with the original wax councillors from 1906). I wandered the Grand Oriental Hotel, affectionately known as the GOH, which once served as a hospital for Dutch sailors and now operates as one of Sri Lanka’s most historic hotels. And I slipped into a quiet pew at St. Peter’s Church.
That visit was about stepping into Karl’s Colombo of 1900: bustling ports, colonial civility, and British railway lines stitching the hills together.
But beneath that surface, the seeds of Sri Lanka’s modern challenges were already being sown, though likely invisible to travellers like Karl. Language, religion, and identity were beginning to polarize. English-speaking Tamils often held civil service jobs, while Sinhalese Buddhists were experiencing a revival of religious and cultural pride. These early divisions would, over the coming decades, deepen into conflict.
Sri Lanka gained independence in 1948, still known then as Ceylon. In 1956, Sinhala was declared the sole official language, marginalizing Tamil speakers. The country was renamed Sri Lanka in 1972, and Buddhism was given constitutional primacy. These shifts laid the groundwork for what became a devastating civil war between the government and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), also known as the Tamil Tigers.
The war lasted from 1983 to 2009, resulting in an estimated 70,000 to 100,000 deaths. Entire communities were displaced, particularly in the north and east, and the Tamil population lost both political leverage and cultural visibility. The conflict reshaped the country, and even in peace, its impacts linger.
I’d planned to visit Sri Lanka in 2023, after travelling through southern India; it felt like a natural next step. But the headlines stopped me.
Beginning in 2019 and peaking in 2022, the country went into economic crisis. Fuel shortages, long power outages, food insecurity, and inflation led to mounting public anger. In 2022, the Aragalaya movement erupted. Protesters called for the resignation of President Rajapaksa and demanded reform. I was watching the news when I saw images of protestors swimming in the presidential pool. It was those swimmers who prompted me to pause my travel plans.
Eventually, the president fled. The government reshuffled. And a year later, things felt more stable. Although power surges and gas shortages persisted, daily life had essentially returned to normal. I considered it safe enough to rebook my journey.
Which brings me to the Colombo of today.
I had braced for the density and chaos of Delhi or Kolkata, but Colombo surprised me.
Yes, there were tuk tuks and the occasional stray dog snoozing in the middle of an intersection, but not a single cow on the road! The city felt calmer, more spacious, with wide sidewalks, fewer tourists, and shaded stretches that made it easy to explore on foot, always my preferred way to get around.
There are three places I want to share about modern Colombo from my wanderings in the city:
1. Pettah Market
This was the one part of Colombo that reminded me of India. A noisy, colourful sprawl of narrow streets packed with vendors selling everything from saris to sacks of lentils, kitchen supplies to mobile phones. There’s no particular order, and it’s all happening at once. You dodge hand carts, sidestep motorbikes, and find a spot to stand against a wall to be out of the way, while taking it all in.
While in Pettah, I also stopped by the Jami Ul-Alfar Mosque, also known as the Red Mosque. With its candy-striped exterior, it’s one of the city’s most distinctive buildings.
While I was walking through the area around the old Town Hall, a tuk-tuk driver named Douglas approached me. He told me he was “famous on YouTube” and insisted I book a ride with him through the town, including the Pettah Market. I had already walked the area, but felt it was a fun way to see the scenes again, and I’m always happy to support a local “celebrity”; he likely recognized me as one of the Town Hall Councillors!
2. Seema Malaka Temple
This temple is situated on the waters of Beira Lake. Built on three floating platforms and connected by wooden walkways, it’s designed less for ritual worship and more as a space for reflection and meditation. The whitewashed structure is ringed with serene Buddha statues, each one showing a different hand gesture.
It was the antithesis of Pettah Market, calm and serene, with views of modern Colombo and a breeze off the lake. It was the perfect place to catch my breath.
3. Galle Face Green
This long stretch of grass beside the sea was just a 10-minute walk from my hotel, and I found myself there most evenings at sunset.
It felt like the convergence of my time and Karl’s—because although there was no mistaking that this wasn’t 1900, it did feel like time stood still in the sense of wonder and innocence. Children enjoying this space with the simplest of activities (bubble blowers and kites), families having picnics, single men doing yoga or callisthenics, couples walking hand in hand, teens being cool, watching the crowds, and me pretending to be cool, doing the same.
And then, every evening at 6:00 PM, the Sri Lankan flag is lowered in a brief ceremony, performed by personnel from the Sri Lankan Army, Navy, or Air Force. I caught it twice, and both times, it was moving.
Witnessing the reverence with which the Sri Lankan flag is lowered, a custom steeped in pride of place and history, was the perfect ending to my time in this country. It felt like the epitome of a place that is kind, slower, and full of pride and possibilities for a bright future.
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