By Tina Edward Gunawardhana

In Sri Lanka, Serendib: The Silk Road of the Sea, Dr Sanjiva Wijesinghe invites readers to rethink Sri Lanka’s place in world history — not as a small island on the margins, but as a pivotal crossroads of ancient global trade. Drawing on archaeology, geography, lived experience and storytelling, he challenges long-held assumptions about the island’s past and reclaims its central role in the Maritime Silk Road.

A surgeon, academic, traveller and writer, Dr Wijesinghe has a rare ability to translate complex historical research into engaging, accessible narratives for a general audience. His book is both scholarly and deeply human, weaving evidence with anecdote to show how goods, people, ideas and cultures once flowed through Sri Lanka’s harbours.

Dr Wijesinghe will be speaking at this year’s HSBC Ceylon Literary & Arts Festival, where he will discuss Serendib and the enduring relevance of Sri Lanka’s maritime heritage. In this interview, he reflects on the meaning behind the book’s evocative title, the evidence that places Sri Lanka at the heart of the Maritime Silk Road, and why reclaiming this forgotten history matters today.

Q: The title Serendib evokes romance and mystery. What does this ancient name mean to you, and why did you feel compelled to reclaim it through this book?

My original title was very straightforward — Sri Lanka and the Silk Road of the Sea. But I discovered that this exact title had already been used for a scholarly compendium published in 1990 to coincide with the UNESCO Silk Route Expedition. I felt it would be inappropriate to use the same name.

That led me to Serendib — or Sarandeep — the name by which our island was known to Muslim traders and sailors in ancient times. These seafarers were familiar with Sri Lanka and were sailing here in ocean-going dhows long before the Europeans arrived and renamed it Ceilao, Zeylan or Ceylon.

There was also a personal layer to the choice. Like the Three Princes of Serendib in the famous tale, I found myself making many discoveries quite accidentally while researching this subject — truly serendipitous moments. The word captured both the island’s ancient identity and my own research journey.

Q: Your book argues that Sri Lanka was not peripheral but central to the Maritime Silk Road. What evidence most strongly supports this claim?

If you simply look at a map, the case becomes clear. Sri Lanka is a relatively large island positioned almost at the midpoint of the East–West sea routes between Africa and Southeast Asia. It lies close to both the eastern and western coasts of the Indian subcontinent and right in the middle of the Indian Ocean.

This strategic location gave Sri Lanka an importance far greater than its size might suggest. Ships from across the Indian Ocean rim could find safe anchorage in the island’s many natural harbours.
Archaeology reinforces this picture. The first-century shipwreck discovered off Godavaya near Hambantota, and excavations at the ancient port of Mantai (modern Mannar), have revealed Persian, Greco-Roman, Indian and Chinese coins, pottery and artefacts. These are compelling indicators that Sri Lanka was a major player in the Maritime Silk Road trade.

Q: You clearly wanted this book to reach a general audience. How did you approach making history accessible and engaging?

I strongly believe this information should be known not only by historians and academics, but by “normal people.” History becomes meaningful when people can relate to it.

So I used anecdotes from my own experiences — an encounter with Prof Paolo Costa at the port of Samharram, or the story of Moosa and the muscat — to humanise the narrative. Even food becomes a gateway to history. Why do we use semolina rather than refined wheat flour in love cake? Where did our Muscat come from, if not Muscat in Oman? Did Chinese rolls evolve from Chinese spring rolls and Dutch-Indonesian risols? There’s a lot of food for thought there — quite literally.

Q: You were part of UNESCO’s Maritime Silk Route Expedition from Venice to Osaka. How did retracing these routes change your understanding of history?

Much of what we learned at school was filtered through a Eurocentric textbook lens. On the expedition, I sailed alongside scholars from Greece, Italy, Oman, Indonesia, China, France, Thailand, Japan and beyond.

We learned from one another — on board ship and at seminars held in ports such as Muscat, Karachi and Goa. Scholars like Prof Liu Yingshen from Nanjing and Prof Adrian Lapian from Indonesia offered perspectives shaped by their own research traditions.

Through discussion and shared learning, history became multi-vocal. It reinforced the idea that Sri Lanka’s ports — especially Mantai — were not local backwaters but cosmopolitan emporia. Because sailors relied on monsoon winds, these ports became “ports-of-return,” where ships reprovisioned, traded and exchanged ideas before continuing long ocean voyages.

Q: You’ve had many careers — surgeon, army officer, academic, traveller and writer. How did these experiences shape your approach to history?

I’ve certainly worn many hats, sometimes juggling two or three roles at once. Teaching medical students at the Colombo Children’s Hospital and later teaching at Monash University taught me how to distil complex information into something students could clearly understand.

My writing career — from newspaper health articles to magazine columns and books — helped me learn how to explain technical subjects to lay readers. I always try to “demystify without distorting,” as Tarzie Vittachi famously said. When writing this book, I imagined myself telling a story to an interested group hearing it for the first time — with a little salt and pepper added to keep it lively.

Q: The book has been described as provocative and eye-opening. Was there a particular myth you were keen to dismantle?

Yes — the idea that Sri Lanka had no nautical history. My late friend Somasiri Devendra wrote movingly about how, when he began researching Sri Lanka’s maritime past, he was repeatedly told that we never went to sea.

Through written sources, archaeology and ethnography, he demonstrated that Sri Lanka did have a home-grown boat-building and seafaring tradition. Just because no indigenous ocean-going ships survive today does not mean they never existed. As Somasiri wrote, “Yes, we are Sri Lankan. Yes, we sailed our ships. And yes, we are remembered. It is only we who have forgotten.”

Q: Finally, what is the single perspective you hope readers take away from Sri Lanka, Serendib: The Silk Road of the Sea?

I hope readers see Sri Lanka with fresh eyes — and with pride. Once upon a time, this island was a crucial player in world trade, a crossroads linking East Asia and West Asia. Our harbours were bustling centres of commerce that brought not only goods, but ideas, religions, food, music and culture. Remembering the past helps us better understand who we are today.