Ah — the land of tea, cricket, and… two New Year celebrations. While most countries settle for just one, we like to double the fun. December 31 brings the Western New Year, all fireworks and fizz. And just when the echoes of “Auld Lang Syne” fade, along comes the Sinhala and Tamil New Year in mid-April — usually on the 13th or 14th — right on cue with the sun’s transition from Pisces (Meena) to Aries (Mesha) in the sidereal zodiac. After all, celebrating the solar New Year, known as Aluth Avurudu in Sinhala and Puthandu in Tamil, is just as good a reason to celebrate as any.
But oh, wait a second. There’s much more to it than that. You see, long before Galileo Galilei invented the telescope in 1605 and started peering at planets with his shiny new tech, Hindus had already known about the planets orbiting the Sun. Yes, centuries before the fancy scientific folks were amused by their sophisticated instruments, the ancients were busy tracking the stars with incredible precision—without the benefit of telescopes, mind you. The zodiac was not the brainchild of a bunch of scientists who spent their days with telescopes—it’s been around for millennia, rooted deeply in the cultural and spiritual understanding of the cosmos.
Gravity of ancient insight
Recently, I stumbled upon an exchange involving a group of self-proclaimed science enthusiasts who proudly identified as atheists. They were scoffing at what they saw as a fundamental flaw in ancient Hindu cosmology—the classification of the Sun as a graha, or a planet. With a smug air, they mocked the idea that Indian sages had believed the Sun orbited Earth, insisting these ancient thinkers were oblivious to the heliocentric nature of our solar system.
The tone of their certainty was almost as if they’d invented a time machine. Even if they had, it wouldn’t get them further than 6.5 billion years into the past—according to current scientific consensus (as they have agreed among themselves for now) that’s when our solar system began to form.
But here’s the thing: the Hindu sages weren’t as ignorant as these critics assume. In fact, the term graha reveals a far deeper understanding of celestial dynamics than the word “planet” ever did.
The word planet, as we learn from modern education, comes from the ancient Greek planētēs, meaning “wanderer”—a reference to how these bodies appeared to drift against the fixed backdrop of stars. But the Sanskrit term graha means “that which grasps” or “that which attracts.” In other words: a force of attraction—what we now understand as gravity.
In that sense, the Sun—possessing the most immense gravitational pull in our solar system—is very much a graha. Far from being a linguistic or scientific error, this terminology reflects a pragmatic and profound grasp of the natural world.
This understanding is part of Jyotisha, often translated today as “Vedic astrology,” but more accurately described as the “Science of Light.” Far from mere superstition, Jyotisha is a system of observational astronomy developed for practical use. It focuses on how celestial bodies appear to move across the sky from the Earth’s perspective—a geocentric model not out of ignorance, but out of necessity for human-centric interpretation.
This geocentric view includes not only the regular (prograde) motion of the grahas, but also their retrograde (vakri) phases—key elements in astrological readings that remain relevant even today.
Ancient sages were fully aware that the Sun is central. The term Surya Graha Mala—literally “garland of the Sun”—suggests recognition of the Sun’s centrality, with the planets forming a cosmic chain around it. Similarly, the Surya Siddhanta, a foundational text in Vedic astronomy, offers calculations that reflect sophisticated astronomical knowledge passed down through generations.
Critics often miss the nuanced layers of ancient wisdom when they rush to judge the past with modern arrogance. Far from being primitive, the sages approached the cosmos with both spiritual insight and scientific rigor.
Sometimes, the truth doesn’t lie in choosing between science and tradition, but in recognising the depth of understanding that each offers—in different languages, for different times.
So, when we talk about our New Year customs, it’s not just a matter of observing the stars—it’s a celebration steeped in ancient wisdom that predates modern science. Perhaps it’s time we remembered that these traditions weren’t just invented by those with expensive gadgets—they were crafted through generations of knowledge, passed down through the ages, long before we even knew how to spell “telescope.”
TV astrologers
For so many years, no Avurudu season had been complete without the grand parade of TV astrologers, popping up on every channel to reveal their exclusive, highly-researched list of auspicious times.
Now, some sceptics (aka, the “scientifically inclined”) roll their eyes at these astrological forecasts. They argue that planetary positions have about as much influence on daily life as a traffic light in Colombo during rush hour—absolutely no one may argue. But let’s be honest, not only most Sri Lankans, but also the people of other countries still tune in religiously, hanging on to every word, because who wants to risk cosmic bad luck, in other words bad karmas firing you with all cylinders?
That said, it’s also no secret that some of these so-called “expert” astrologers seem far more interested in boosting their business than ensuring celestial accuracy. After all, what better time than Avurudu to convince the public that they absolutely must have a personal horoscope reading—for a small fee, of course? Nothing says “auspicious beginnings” quite like a well-timed sales pitch.
But hold on—isn’t that just business? Why single out astrologers when every industry, from supermarkets to social media influencers, does the exact same thing? New Year sales, festive promotions, limited-time offers—it’s all part of the game. If a fortune teller capitalises on cosmic fears the same way a car dealer hypes up “once-in-a-lifetime discounts,” is that really any different?
So, let’s not pretend to be shocked. Business is business, whether it’s selling prophecies, luxury handbags, or “miracle weight-loss teas.” At least the astrologers throw in some entertainment value—and, let’s be honest, a little suspense about our fate keeps life interesting.
So, whether you believe in auspicious times or think it’s all an elaborate marketing strategy, one thing’s for sure—Sri Lankans get double the holidays and double the celebrations.
Both the New Years are called Aluth Avuruddha (New Year) or called just Avuruddha in Sinhala, but it is also common among our countrymen to use the world Avuruddha to denote prosperity and any traditional festival.
For example, if a well-dressed group of youth is spotted looking unusually cheerful, someone might quip, “Megollanta ada Avurudu wage?” (Looks like you guys are celebrating New Year today!). Whether it is an Eid feast, a wedding, or just a payday splurge, “Avurudu” has come to mean any occasion of prosperity and festivity.
Even when our Muslim countrymen celebrate Eid Mubarak after a month of fasting during Ramadan (Nombu month), they share Nombu Kanji with their Sinhala and Tamil neighbours and casually call it their Avurudu. Because in Sri Lanka, why limit celebrations to one definition when you can simply embrace the spirit of festivity across cultures?
Two New Years, two histories
Sri Lankans likely started celebrating December 31 and January 1 as New Year during British colonial rule (1815–1948), when the Gregorian calendar was introduced for administration and official purposes. However, it was not until the mid-to-late 20th century, with increasing globalisation, that New Year’s Eve parties, fireworks, and Western-style festivities became widespread.
On the other hand, the April Sinhala and Tamil New Year is much older and far more culturally significant, rooted in astrology, agriculture, and tradition. The Sun’s transition from Pisces (Meena Rashi) to Aries (Mesha Rashi) marks the harvest season and symbolises renewal.
However, some of these countries also celebrate their traditional or cultural New Years based on local calendars. India celebrates Diwali (Hindu New Year), Ugadi, Gudi Padwa, and other regional New Years in addition to January 1.
China (Hong Kong) observes Chinese New Year as the main traditional celebration.
Malaysia and Singapore celebrate both Chinese New Year and the Islamic New Year along with the Western New Year.
Ethiopia uses the Ethiopian calendar and celebrates Enkutatash (New Year) in September.
Bangladesh and Pakistan observe Bengali New Year (Pohela Boishakh) and Islamic New Year as significant cultural events.
Rituals of renewal Nonagathaya – The neutral period
Before the official dawn of the New Year, there’s a sacred pause known as Nonagathaya. During this neutral period, daily work and routines come to a halt. Instead, families turn their attention to spiritual reflection—visiting temples, offering flowers, and seeking blessings from Buddhist monks. It is a time to cleanse the mind and spirit in preparation for the year ahead.
Lighting the hearth (Lipa gini melaweema)
One of the most symbolic customs of Avurudu is Lipa Gini Melaweema—the lighting of the first fire in the hearth. This is done at an astrologically determined auspicious time (nakath), using a traditional clay stove and a new clay pot. Milk is boiled until it overflows (Kiri Ithireema), a ritual signifying abundance, prosperity, and blessings for the household.
Traditional Avurudu meals
No Avurudu celebration is complete without its signature sweets and savouries. Tables are adorned with an array of festive treats – Konda Kavum (sweet oil cakes), Kokis, Aluwa, Mung Kevum, and Athirasa. Kiribath (milk rice) takes pride of place, prepared in generous quantities. A portion is first offered to the Buddha and guardian deities before being shared with family, friends, and neighbours.
Ganu Denu – the exchange of blessings
Ganu Denu, meaning “give and take,” symbolises both material and emotional prosperity. At a chosen auspicious time, people exchange gifts, money, and blessings. Elders often give money to the younger generation as a gesture of goodwill and fortune, reinforcing bonds across generations.
Hisa thel gema – Anointing oil
In this healing ritual, a respected elder or village monk applies medicinal oil to the heads of family members. Performed at a designated nakath, this act—known as hisa thel gema—is believed to promote health, vitality, and protection in the year to come. Traditional herbal oils and medicinal leaves are used, passed down through generations.
Visiting relatives and neighbours
Avurudu is as much about community as it is about tradition. Families visit elders to pay respects and receive blessings. Sharing food and goodwill with neighbours—and especially with those less fortunate—is not just a custom, but a cherished part of the festival’s spirit of unity and compassion.
Avurudu Games: Tradition, fun and friendly rivalry
No Avurudu celebration is complete without the thrill and laughter of traditional games. In villages across Sri Lanka, these friendly competitions have long been the heart of the festivities—bringing people together across generations in the true spirit of community and joy.
Olinda keliya – The game of strategy
Played mostly by women, Olinda Keliya is a traditional board game using bright red Olinda seeds. It is a test of strategic thinking and patience, often played during Avurudu gatherings while chatting and sharing festive treats. Though simple in appearance, it offers hours of quiet competition and camaraderie.
Kotta pora – Pillow fighting
A favourite among the youth, Kotta Pora sees two players perched on a horizontal pole, each armed with a pillow. The goal? Knock your opponent off the pole while keeping your balance. The game is pure slapstick fun and always draws a crowd of cheering onlookers.
Elle – The village’s own baseball
Elle is Sri Lanka’s version of baseball, played with a wooden bat and rubber ball. Teams compete to score runs in open fields, often surrounded by laughter and good-natured rivalry. Once a staple of village sport, it remains a cherished part of the Avurudu season.
Ankeliya – The horn pulling challenge
A test of strength and unity, Ankeliya is a tug-of-war-style game using buffalo horns tied to ropes. Two teams pull with all their might in a symbolic struggle for victory. The game, rooted in ancient customs, reflects teamwork and traditional beliefs in power and endurance.
Kiri kaweema -The milk-drinking race
This hilarious game challenges participants to drink a glass of milk—without using their hands. It is messier than it sounds and a guaranteed crowd-pleaser, especially when the youngest contestants take part.
Banis kaweema – The hanging bun challenge
In Banis Kaweema, players attempt to eat a hanging bun while standing on a stool—with no hands allowed. Laughter is inevitable as buns swing and contestants stretch, twist, and wobble to claim a bite.
Porapol gaseema – Coconut clash
Here, strength is measured in coconuts. In Porapol Gaseema, players smash coconuts against each other, and the one with the unbroken nut is crowned the winner. It is all about strategy—and a little bit of luck.
Raban Gaseema – Drumming up the spirit
The rhythmic beat of the raban drum sets the tone for Avurudu. Mostly played by women and girls, the raban is struck in coordinated patterns while singing folk songs. It is not just a performance—it is a celebration of tradition and togetherness.
