Mal Sugande Dam Sugande Lyrics by Mohidin Beg

The scent of flowers, the scent of incense, drifting on a breeze pure as a vow of virtue
To the perfectly Enlightened One, the worthy of honour, sadhu, sadhu, our worship //

This is Mihintale, this is the nectar of the Dhamma, this is the name of the serene Anubuddha
To each and every one, this is what tells the history of the Buddha’s teaching //
The Ratnamali stupa receives the worship of these gods and these kings
These great stones and foundations speak of that noble pride //

The scent of flowers ….

Rolling in waves, roaring as it flows, it is the drink of the nation’s victory
The valour of the Sinhala people is told by this land of Polonnaruwa //
The dagaba and the great rain clouds joined with the blue depths of the sky
Were the stones carved into pictures of loving-kindness, of cool and gentle compassion //

The scent of flowers ….

This is how the great kings of the Three Sinhala realms did their mighty deeds of old
By this noble Dhamma they worked wonders, giving even their flesh and blood
Brave and heroic, worthy of reverence, there is no end to the singing of their virtues
May the four great guardian gods protect this Buddhist teaching of ours //

This is a devotional and patriotic Buddhist song, a hymn of homage that ties worship of the Buddha to the sacred places and proud history of Sri Lanka. There is no lover or heartbreak here. The voice is that of a devotee standing before the country’s great Buddhist monuments, offering reverence and remembering how the Dhamma shaped the island. It opens the way an act of worship opens, with flowers and incense, and the cry of “sadhu, sadhu,” the word Sri Lankan Buddhists call out together at a temple to bless a meritorious moment.

The song moves like a pilgrimage across the island’s holy sites. Mihintale is named first because that is where Buddhism arrived in Sri Lanka, the hill where the Arahant Mahinda met the king and brought the teaching. The “Ratnamali stupa” is the Ruwanwelisaya, the great white dagaba in Anuradhapura, and the song pictures even gods and kings bowing before it. When it says the ancient stones and foundations “speak of that noble pride,” it means the ruined monasteries and stupas are not just old rocks, they are a living record of the faith. The breeze in the first line is called pure “as a vow of virtue” (sil), the Buddhist precepts, so even the air around these places is described as clean and holy.

Then the song turns to Polonnaruwa, the medieval royal capital, and to the idea of the nation itself. The image of water “rolling in waves, roaring as it flows” being “the drink of the nation’s victory” links the great irrigation tanks and the strength of the old Sinhala kingdoms to a single source of pride. The most beautiful stroke comes when the dagaba, the monsoon rain clouds, and the blue sky all seem to merge, and the singer asks whether the stone itself was carved into images of loving-kindness and compassion. Anyone who has stood at the Gal Vihara in Polonnaruwa, where huge serene Buddha figures are cut from a single rock face, will feel what this line is reaching for, the sense that the very stone holds metta and karuna, kindness and compassion.

The last verse honours the great kings of the “Three Sinhalas,” the old division of the island, who are remembered as giving “even their flesh and blood” for the Dhamma, the kind of total sacrifice told in Buddhist tales of devotion. It closes not with a person’s longing but with a blessing for the whole tradition, asking the four guardian deities to protect “this Buddhist teaching of ours.” What the listener is left holding is a quiet, swelling pride, the feeling of belonging to a long line of faith carved into stone and remembered in every “sadhu” called out at a temple.