Hela Jathika Abhimane Lyrics by CT Fernando

(Pride of the Hela nation,
like the heroes who rose up in days of old,
adorn this motherland you won with all its glory.
Awake, awake, make yourselves ready.)…//

The children of old who showed heroic courage, who stood guard over the land.
You brave heroes who carry that same blood, do not leave the debt unpaid.
The sailor who rows the nation forward to progress, the farmer, the god of the soil,
in hardship and in plenty he does not waver or grieve, the Hela who is at home with the eight turns of fortune.
In hardship and in plenty he does not waver or grieve, the Hela who is at home with the eight turns of fortune.

Pride of the Hela nation…/

The great rivers that run down to the sea, turn them back to the paddy fields,
grow grain across this Sri Lanka, make it the granary of the East again.
Grow used to thrift and saving, break apart your sorrow and your doubt,
begin an age of Parakum once more on the soil of your own land, Lanka.
Begin an age of Parakum once more on the soil of your own land, Lanka.

Pride of the Hela nation…/

This is a patriotic song, a rousing call to the Sinhala people to take pride in who they are and to rebuild their country. The title, “Hela Jathika Abhimane,” means the pride of the Hela nation, “Hela” being an old name for the Sinhala people, and the whole song is shaped like a wake-up cry. It keeps repeating “awake, awake, make ready,” the way you would shake someone out of sleep. There is no lover and no private heartbreak here. The voice is speaking to a whole people at once, reminding them of their ancestors and pointing them toward the work ahead.

The first verse reaches back to the heroes of old, the brave children of the past who guarded the island, and then turns to the listener: you carry that same blood, so do not leave the debt unpaid. That idea of a debt is the heart of the verse. It says the freedom and the land you enjoy were bought by those who came before, and you owe it to them not to let it slip. Then the song widens out to ordinary people doing ordinary work, the sailor steering the country forward, and the farmer, who it lifts up as “the god of the soil.” In a land built on rice farming, that line is high praise, the one who feeds everyone is treated as something close to sacred. The verse ends with a quietly Buddhist idea, the steady Hela who does not get shaken in either hard times or good times because he is used to the “eight worldly conditions” (aṭa loka dhamma), the old teaching that gain and loss, fame and disgrace, praise and blame, pleasure and pain all come and go. To live unshaken by them is held up as the strength of the people.

The second verse turns practical, almost like a plan of action. It calls on people to take the great rivers that simply run out into the sea and turn them back onto the fields, to grow grain and make Sri Lanka “the granary of the East” once more. That phrase carries real history. The island was once known across the region for its irrigation and its rice, fed by the huge ancient tanks and channels the old kings built. The song wants that glory restored. It even names the goal directly, an “age of Parakum,” meaning the time of King Parakramabahu the Great, remembered as the golden age when the land was prosperous and its tanks and temples flourished. Alongside the grand ambition sits a homely instruction, learn thrift, learn to save, and break apart your sorrow and your doubt.

What the listener is left holding is not longing but resolve. The song ties together memory and labor, the heroes of the past and the farmer in the field today, and asks the people to stand steady, work the land, and build their country back into something they can be proud of. It is the kind of song meant to straighten your back and make you feel that the work is yours to do.