The month of April is traditionally heralded by the persistent, rhythmic call of the Koha bird and the vibrant crimson of the Erabadu flowers. As the sun enters Aries, marking the Aluth Avurudu, it is a time for renewal, for the settling of old scores, and for the gathering of kin. Yet, as we approach the dawn of Avurudu in 2026, the festive atmosphere feels strangely stifled. The Koha still sings, but the families listening are preoccupied with a much harsher melody: the relentless clicking of the electricity meter and the soaring price of a kilo of rice.
For the vast majority of Sri Lankans, the excitement of the season has been replaced by a gnawing anxiety. The reason is no secret. We are living through the grim aftershocks of a global furnace. The escalation of the US-Israel conflict with Iran has moved far beyond the borders of the Middle East, sending shockwaves through the global economy that have landed squarely on the doorsteps of ordinary households in Colombo, Kandy, and Galle. When energy infrastructure in the Middle East is compromised, the world shudders, and a small island nation like ours feels the tremors most acutely.
The geopolitical reality is stark. As refineries and supply lines become casualties of war, the cost of crude oil has surged to levels that make the average commute a luxury. In Sri Lanka, this has manifested as a brutal trifecta of price hikes: fuel, LP gas, and electricity. These are not merely line items in a government budget; they are the lifeblood of the domestic kitchen and the local factory.
When the price of diesel rises, the cost of transporting vegetables from the Nuwara Eliya farms to the Manning Market rises with it. When the electricity tariff is adjusted upwards to account for global energy scarcity, the local bakery must raise the price of a loaf of bread just to keep the ovens warm. No corner of ordinary life has been left untouched. From the school van fees to the price of a simple packet of rice, the cost of living has transitioned from a political talking point into a daily battle for survival.
The Aluth Avurudu is fundamentally a festival of abundance. It is the one time of year when even those of modest means strive to lay a table that groans under the weight of traditional sweets and milk rice. However, the mathematics of 2026 simply do not add up for the working class. While the prices of essential goods have climbed a steep mountain, the average Sri Lankan income has remained stubbornly in the valley.
There is a profound, human dignity in the way our people celebrate, but that dignity is being tested. Parents are now forced to make heartbreaking choices. Should they buy the customary new clothes for their children, or should they ensure there is enough gas in the cylinder to cook the festive meal? For many, the Nonagathaya has become a permanent state of financial paralysis.
The most biting irony of this season is the silence regarding wages. We are told that we must endure these ‘global headwinds’ with resilience. Yet, resilience does not pay the grocery bill. While corporate balance sheets in certain sectors have adapted to inflation, the civil servant, the factory hand, and the tea plucker find their purchasing power eroded to a fraction of what it was a year ago.
The political class must realise that a society cannot be asked to tighten its belt indefinitely when there are no more notches left. The Avurudu season is supposed to be a time of hope, but hope is a difficult flame to keep alight when the cost of the oil for the lamp is beyond reach.
As we move toward the auspicious hours, we must look at each other with more than just the usual festive politeness. We must acknowledge that this year, the spirit of the New Year lies in how we support one another through a period of unprecedented hardship.
This April, the hearths may be a little cooler and the tables a little emptier. However, the demand for fairness and a living wage must remain loud. We deserve a future where the dawn of the New Year brings the promise of prosperity, not just the dread of another bill.