The roots of this coexistence sink deep into both legend and history. It is said that five years after attaining enlightenment, the Buddha visited Sri Lanka to mediate a conflict between two Naga kings fighting over a throne inlaid with jewels. Upon that throne stands the Rajayathana Stupa, now sheathed in silver and revered as one of the sixteen Solosmasthana, or main Buddhist pilgrimage sites of the island. Barely 700 meters away, the Hindu temple of Nagapooshani Amman still welcomes Tamil devotees. For centuries, these two shrines have survived wars, colonial invasions, and years of internal strife—emerging each time as witnesses to spiritual resilience.
Between the 16th and 20th centuries, Portuguese, Dutch, and British colonizers looted and ravaged temples across the region, and Nagadeepa was no exception. During the darkest years of the civil war, the sacred structures were nearly destroyed again. In a remarkable act, Venerable Brahamanawatte Dhammakitti Tissa Thero defended the local Muslim community when the LTTE issued expulsion orders. Thanks to his intervention, many Muslims stayed and survived. That gesture—a bridge between faiths—cemented the island’s enduring spirit of reconciliation. After 2009, the temples rose again, brick by brick, prayer by prayer, built by Buddhist and Hindu hands working side by side.
What sets this island apart from other pilgrimage centers is the simultaneity of worship. At dawn, while Buddhists circumambulate the silver stupa, Hindus perform ablutions at the nearby temple—without fixed schedules, boundaries, or visible divisions. Joint processions, known as Nagadeepa Perahera, wind through the island’s narrow lanes during festival season. The stone walls display carvings of naga serpents, and the architecture blends Buddhist and Hindu symbols into one sacred whole. Purification rituals use blessed water poured upon the same stones —a clear symbol of unity. Those who pray here do so upon the same ground, beneath the same lights and murmured chants, without distinction of creed.
Visiting Nagadeepa requires humility. The ferry departs from Kurikadduwan during daylight hours, with the round trip costing about USD 15. The ideal season is from November to February, when the sea is calm and the weather gentle. These months coincide with Thai Pongal and the Perahera festival, when the island vibrates with spiritual intensity. It is advisable to arrive before 8 a.m. to witness the morning pujas, while the mist still lingers above the strait. Visitors should dress modestly—covering shoulders and knees—remove their shoes inside temples, and ask permission before taking photos within the stupa. During prayer, silence is absolute: no selfie sticks, no loud chatter.
The residents of Nagadeepa have long resisted mass tourism. Just over a decade ago, as nearby Jaffna’s tourist infrastructure expanded, roughly 3,000 islanders rejected proposals to open guesthouses and souvenir shops. They fear that, as in other sacred sites further south, reverence could give way to commercial frenzy. Their natural safeguard is isolation: the island can only be reached by ferry, a barrier that helps preserve its quiet sanctity. Were a bridge ever built, or tourism left unchecked, Nagadeepa might cease to be a sanctuary of coexistence and become just another display case for outsiders.
A Tamil devotee named Ananthi put it simply: “We rebuilt this temple after the war. We will not let tourism destroy it again.” It is not hostility toward visitors—it is a warning to those who come seeking snapshots instead of reverence. Those who arrive with respect are warmly welcomed. Those who don’t soon find themselves confronted by a silence that does not tolerate noise.
Before international travel agencies turn Nagadeepa into a new mass-pilgrimage stop, it is worth visiting with awareness of the role one wishes to play: wanderer, learner, pilgrim. The ferry leaves every day. And when you step onto this island, the choice becomes clear: to respect, or to disturb. Those who choose respect find a living fragment of a miracle —that in a divided world, there still exists one place where faith does not divide, but unites.
