• Stories from the ‘Siri Dalada Vandana’

Kandy City has always been a city of deep spiritual significance as the home of the Sacred Tooth Relic. However, these last 10 days have seen it become the epicentre of Buddhist devotion in an unprecedented way as it hosts the ‘Siri Dalada Vandana’ – the 2025 public exposition of the Sacred Tooth Relic at the revered Sri Dalada Maligawa. 

The Sacred Tooth Relic, believed to be a tooth of the Buddha himself, is usually kept hidden within ornate caskets and displayed to the public only on rare occasions, the last being in 2009. This year’s ‘Vandana,’ running from 18-27 April, has drawn record-breaking crowds – an estimated two million people – sparking profound spiritual moments while also testing the logistical capacity of Kandy City.

From day one, turnout exceeded expectations. Police estimated 125,000 people visited the temple on the opening day alone, with hundreds of thousands following in the days after. Visiting hours were extended, but demand remained overwhelming. 

By the midway point, officials reported that roughly 400,000 pilgrims were waiting in line or had already paid homage​. Authorities issued urgent appeals for devotees to delay their visits, citing public safety concerns due to the overwhelming numbers.

Temple authorities and the Government even considered the possibility of extending the ‘Vandana’ beyond its scheduled end date in order to better cope with the influx​ or holding it more regularly to better handle crowds. 

However, despite these logistical challenges, the ‘Vandana’ has reinforced the deep cultural and religious bonds that unite the Sri Lankan spirit. Locals have risen to the occasion to lend a hand to the devotees waiting for their turn to venerate the Sacred Tooth Relic – from volunteers to charities to local businesses and authorities. Special queues and accommodations have been arranged for the elderly and disabled, and free meals are being provided to tens of thousands of devotees daily.

The Sunday Morning explored the ‘Vandana’ through the perspectives of those around it, from locals of Kandy to bystanders to devotees. With the unprecedented numbers of people flocking to Kandy town to worship, the city dealt with the effects of overcrowding, from limited vehicular access to the reality of thousands of people standing in queues for days at a time with little access to food, water and sanitation. 

Kandyan hospitality across communities 

While the Sacred Tooth Relic drew hundreds of thousands into its orbit, the spirit that pulsed through the streets of Kandy was not limited to religious veneration. It was the kindness of strangers, the shared effort of neighbours across ethnic and religious lines, all working together to support the unprecedented influx of devotees.

Mosques and churches in the area have opened their doors to devotees as a place of respite and refreshment; businesses, especially hospitality businesses, have been distributing food and drink; and all mosques in the Katugastota area have remained open 24 hours to accommodate the devotees.

Shazli Salih, whose home is in close proximity to the Sri Dalada Maligawa, saw the enormity of the crowds unfold in real time. “The queues were starting from every direction,” he said. “All the crowds pass by our house; we’ve never seen anything like it.” 

His neighbourhood, like much of Kandy, is a mix of communities. “We’re used to living among people of different backgrounds – Buddhist, Muslim, Hindu, Christian. That’s not new for us. We knew we had to do something. We talked, and the next thing you know, we’re out distributing food.”

For Shazli, the event evoked parallels with the pilgrimage to Mecca. “It reminded me of Hajj – the scale, the energy, the sense of devotion, but also the logistical strain. This was the first time something this large happened here. Next time, I hope it’s managed better, especially basic things like toilets and resting areas. But no matter what, we’ll be here to help.”

Shazia Salih, Shazli’s sister,  and her husband, a Christian, have spent much of the last week handing out food and cleaning up the streets alongside volunteers from multiple faiths. With the support of her husband’s company, Amora Enterprises, she organised three full-scale dansalas, each of which handed out over 5,000 food packs to devotees.

“We’ve been giving out food every other day. But no matter how much we give, it’s not enough. You can’t help everyone. That part really gets to you. There were so many people who had come from far outside Kandy,” she said. “They didn’t have anywhere to stay, and they were sleeping on the pavement. That was hard to watch. It just came from seeing what people were going through. We didn’t think twice about it.”

Shazia also spoke about the pollution that is accumulated as a result of the crowds. “It’s not just the devotees’ fault; there haven’t been enough bins or toilets. But we’ve started small clean-up drives at work. It’s what we can do.”

Nisha Saleh, Shazli and Shazia’s mother, also shared her perspective on the ‘Vandana’ and the community’s response. “To be frank, it was a very good thing,” she said. “In the first few days, everyone was helping; even our mosques, our relations, and the children all got involved.” 

She noted how shops, families, and community groups around Kandy worked together to support the influx of devotees, providing food, supplies, and assistance wherever they could. “There was a nice, good understanding with each other,” she said. 

Reflecting on the scale of the event, Nisha also remarked that even in her 65 years, she had never seen Kandy so crowded. “Sixteen years ago during the last ‘Vandana,’ it wasn’t like this. But this time, even though it was difficult, it showed how much people were willing to help each other.”

The Sunday Morning also spoke to Lashan Navindran, a business owner in close proximity to the Sri Dalada Maligawa, who described the past week as “definitely a new experience”. As a Christian, he wasn’t among the thousands in line to venerate the Sacred Tooth Relic, but like most people in Kandy, he was swept up in the effects of it, and his business opened its doors to devotees offering refreshments and use of bathroom facilities. His building even hosted a ‘dansala’ – an almsgiving of food.

“It was very hot, and people were just exhausted,” he said. “The least you can do is offer them something – even something small. They’ve come from so far – Galle, Anuradhapura, and so on. People came into the café and told us they’d travelled all that way just for a glimpse. That kind of devotion… I don’t have words. It’s crazy.

“But the impact on daily life – and business – due to the queues is undeniable, especially since people in the queues cannot give up their spot and the crowds in general disrupt regular business as well,” he said.

Despite the disruption, Navindran shared that the ‘Vandana’ was a powerful experience to witness. He didn’t engage deeply with many of the devotees, but what he saw left an impression. 

“They were just enduring it. No complaints. They slept on the road, stood for hours, and still they kept going. I’ve never been in anything this crowded. But it was kind of amazing too. Even when it rained – and it rained hard – people didn’t move. They stood their ground, soaking wet. That level of patience? It surprised me,” he added.

For Shazia, the most touching part of the experience was how naturally people worked together. “My husband’s Christian, I’m Muslim, most of the people around us are Buddhist. But we’re all part of this. It’s not about religion; it’s about being human. That’s what the ‘Vandana’ has brought out.”

What has emerged is a testament to Kandy’s capacity for care – and Sri Lanka’s enduring sense of communal empathy. “This isn’t new to us,” Shazli said. “We’ve always lived like this. But it’s good to be reminded of it, especially now.”

The ‘Vandana,’ as told by bystanders

Not everyone who felt the impact of the 2025 ‘Siri Dalada Vandana’ came to Kandy as a devotee. In a city as compact and central as Kandy, simply living there, passing through, or trying to go about your day meant you were part of it – whether you planned to be or not.

Siransi Dullewe had been putting off errands for days. “We knew the town would be crowded,” she said. “I had some work and finally had to go in. It was okay up to a point, but once we got to the clock tower, vehicles just stopped moving.” 

She and her companions got out and walked into the city. “Inside wasn’t too bad; it was pretty orderly, people were in queues. The shops were quiet, no one was really browsing or buying. Everyone was just there for the ‘Vandana.’”

One story that stayed with her was from her aunt: “My aunt and father went to Asgiriya and saw this group from Gampaha giving out seeni sambol and bread to everyone. Even though my aunt had said they were not there for the ‘Vandana,’ they had made them take it anyway.” 

For Dullewe, that moment of unsolicited generosity – giving without expecting anything in return – captured something essential about the week. “They just came to help the people.”

Thilani Samarasinha didn’t come for the ‘Vandana’ either but was in Kandy for work and swept up in the bustle. “There were just too many people. Kandy’s too small to take that load.” 

She described incidents that unfolded because of the crowd pressure, noting that there were confrontations and moments of tension from time to time. “Every pavement was full of people queuing, so when someone came in from the side, trying to reach a bus stop or something, it looked like they were jumping the line and people in the queues got upset,” she explained. 

However, what struck her most was the kindness of people despite the strain on daily life. “Kandy was overloaded. Even mosques and churches opened their doors for people to sleep or use the bathrooms. Parking lots were opened up,” she said, adding that she found herself frustrated by the uneven distribution of responsibility. 

“I’m a Buddhist myself and it was frustrating to see that the Maligawa – which benefits from this crowd – didn’t seem to be doing enough. They waited for everyone else to do the work,” she added.

Ranjan Peiris, who also works with one of Kandy’s larger hotels, had the chance to worship at the ‘Vandana’ and to observe it as a bystander. He was also able to worship at the last ‘Vandana’ in 2009. “Back then, the war was still going on. People couldn’t move as freely. This time, they increased the train frequency and provided more buses, and because we have peace, more people came.”

He saw the difference immediately. “The first few days were okay; toilets were there, cleaning was happening. But later, the crowds just got too big. People were sleeping on the pavements. Mats, plastic bags, all left behind. The municipality trucks couldn’t even come in.”

Still, he saw solidarity in action. “Even our hotel staff cleaned the streets. The Maligawa gave some food, people from Colombo brought water, and our hotel gave what we could.” 

What did stand out most to these bystanders, though, was the sheer weight of the occasion. Whether they were handing out food, watching from the sidelines, or just trying to make it home, everyone in Kandy bore witness to something larger than themselves.

The ‘Vandana’ as told by devotees

The Sunday Morning also spoke to a few devotees who made the trip to worship at the ‘Vandana,’ people who had made journeys from all over Sri Lanka to venerate the Sacred Tooth Relic and be part of the incredible spirituality of the ‘Siri Dalada Vandana.’

For M.D. Ireshika from Embilipitiya, the experience was transcendent. “This is my first time worshipping. There were some discomforts, but we managed to worship well. I came to Kandy on my 57th birthday. We came on 22 April and joined the queue in Ampitiya at 2.30 a.m. and then we worshipped. We worshipped our Buddha.”

Ireshika’s predominant emotion during the ‘Vandana’ has been one of joy. “This good karma of facilitating our worship, we give to our President and the ministers, and hope it helps the Government. Everyone who helped us – the laymen, the Sangha, the President and his ministers, and the MPs – will also get these blessings. I give these blessings to them,” she said.

“The gods are also happy looking at this. My husband is here with me. My children are still in the queue, waiting to worship. Sixty of us came together from our village near Embilipitiya. My husband and I got separated from the others but managed to worship ahead of them. We are very happy.”

Hasindu Chathuranga from Matara shared that the experience of being able to worship at the ‘Vandana’ was one of huge personal significance. “I worshipped the last time as well, and have come back after 16 years because of this great opportunity,” he said. 

“This is a huge opportunity to receive in life. I came alone all the way from Matara, because I had such a big desire to come and experience this again and I am happy I had the opportunity to do so.”

Not all attempts to worship have been successful, though. For Nilanthi Athukorala from Kotte, seeing the Dalada exposition has been a long-held dream, but is likely not one she will achieve in this edition of the ‘Vandana.’ She stayed in line earlier in the week for many hours, but feeling unwell due to the pressing of the crowds, she returned to Colombo, aware that she would not be able to stay in line for much longer. 

With the queue stretching far ahead, she asked a neighbour who travelled with her to keep her spot and that she would return once more. Two days later, her neighbour called saying she should come back, but by then, the Government had asked people not to come to Kandy due to issues relating to the massive crowds there. 

She is hopeful that this will be done yearly, preventing massive crowds from descending upon the city at the same time, and ensuring her a chance to worship.

“I want to go back but I am worried about my health. My neighbour is going to be upset with me since I am the one who convinced her we should go. But given the state of things there, I don’t think I should risk falling ill again by revisiting this time,” she added. “We’ve heard reports of several people dying there and my family is insistent that I stay home despite my wanting to worship.”

Learnings for the future

Despite its spiritual significance, the ‘Siri Dalada Vandana’ has not been without controversy or hardship. From logistical gripes of scant sanitary facilities and overflowing garbage in the city as throngs camped out for days to issues with security and crowd control, the ‘Vandana’ has also been a learning experience. 

As the final day of the ‘Vandana’ brings a close to 10 days of spiritual intensity, reflection is already underway. In the streets and homes of Kandy, talk has turned from reverence to reality: How did the city handle it? What needs to change next time? Should there even be a next time – and if so, how often? For many who witnessed the chaos up close, there’s one conclusion: the event must continue, but not like this.

“This is the first time such a huge crowd has gathered,” Shazli stressed. “It reminded me of Mecca during Hajj. Next time, they should manage it better rather than overcrowding like this.” 

Shazli however stressed that the issue wasn’t so much mismanagement as the lack of preparation for something of this scale. “Things like proper public restrooms, places to sit, water – they need to be in place. When you see devotees stuffed on the pavement with no access to anything, you can imagine what they need.”

Ranjan Peiris, who also witnessed the 2009 exposition, made a pointed comparison. “Last time, the war was going on. There were limits. This time, the country’s open, so people came in huge numbers. But Kandy can’t take this. It’s like a basin; it can’t be expanded.” 

According to him, initial efforts to manage sanitation and waste were visible but quickly overwhelmed. “The municipality tried. In the first few days, it worked. Then the crowds became too much. The vehicles couldn’t get in to clean because the roads were full.”

One consistent suggestion from almost everyone was about frequency. “This kind of thing should happen more often – maybe once every four years,” Ranjan said. “Then people won’t all come at once. Now, they know it only happens once in 10 or 15 years, so everyone tries to come.”

Thilani Samarasinha offered a similar thought: “If it’s every year, it’ll be like Sri Pada. Still crowded, but more manageable. Right now, people queue for two days, and then get less than a minute to actually worship.” 

She added that, in the future, better systems could be developed to manage crowds: “They should have done it by areas, getting people from different provinces in on Monday, and then people from other provinces on Tuesday, and so on. They just kept telling people not to come, but people were already on the way.”

Lashan Navindran offered an alternative point of view. “To be honest, I wouldn’t mind it being on display all the time,” he said. “In Japan or Thailand, they have relics of the Buddha that people can visit year-round. I don’t know how true that is, but that makes more sense to me. 

“If this were to happen each year, each year would be equally as crowded, I feel. if something like this existed in Christianity – something this spiritually significant – I think it would become a family thing, something you’d do every year, which would mean it would have the same intensity each year,” he said.

“The value is there,” Ranjan said. “The relic is important. But the conditions people are put through – no place to rest, not enough food, fights in the queues – don’t reflect the values of the Buddha. If this is about ‘maithri’ and compassion, then that has to be part of the organisation of the ‘Vandana’ too.”

A country united in spirit

The ‘Siri Dalada Vandana’ of 2025 has left an indelible mark on Kandy and all who passed through it. For 10 days, the city was transformed – not just into a centre of Buddhist devotion, but into a place of extraordinary unity and shared purpose.

From the tireless devotees who journeyed across the island to the locals who opened their homes and hearts, the ‘Vandana’ became a moment that transcended its spiritual origins. It brought together neighbours and strangers, Buddhists and non-Buddhists, business owners, volunteers, and bystanders – all playing a part in something greater than themselves.

As the Sacred Tooth Relic is once again returned to its casket and the city begins to exhale, what remains is the memory of a week defined by reverence, generosity, and a rare, collective grace. It was, for many, a once-in-a-lifetime experience and its echoes – of kindness, hospitality, and quiet solidarity – will surely resonate far beyond these 10 days.