The Sacred City
STEPPING OFF THE BUS IN THE SRI LANKAN CITY of Anuradhapura, I spot young women in white dresses clutching ample bouquets of nearly-blooming lotus. But these flowers are not for me, they’re for someone far more important: the Buddha. I’ve arrived at Ruwanwelisaya, an ancient sacred structure, and one of eight places of worship in the city, which was founded in 380 BC and is itself a Unesco World Heritage Site. At the entrance, a sign in English, nestled among others in Sinhalese, reminds me of the passage of time: No selfie with the Buddha.
I slip out of my shoes and follow the crowd walking to the sound of sacred singing until we reach the stupa, an immaculate hemispherical monument crowned with a golden spire. I’m not a follower of Theravāda, one of the oldest branches of Buddhism, so I hover behind the long-haired women who are praying, their hands holding flowers that they touch against their foreheads.
As an outsider, I think about how to bring meaning to my visit to this sacred place. Sri Lanka has been touted as a hot new travel destination but many of the tourist draws are more suited for quiet reflection than for Instagramming. I stand in front of the statue of Buddha, who is seated with an open palm resting on a knee and the other hand pointing to the ground. Sam, my guide, joins me and explains that this position represents the Buddha’s moment of enlightenment. My thoughts turn to my father, who recently passed away. Could or should my presence here bring me enlightenment? Words come to mind that my wise father used to say to me when I was being particularly impatient: We’ll cross the bridge when we get to the river. I relax a little and tell myself that the time will come.