There’s a dry wind that blows through Mannar, the kind that tastes like salt and history. It howls over lagoons thick with flamingos, nudges the rusted skeletons of colonial forts, and settles like incense among the stone pillars of a temple that refuses to die. This is Thiruketheeswaram, one of the five ancient Iswarams of Lord Shiva in Sri Lanka. For thousands of years, pilgrims have whispered mantras here. Armies have marched past it, priests have anointed it, colonizers have desecrated it,

Just off the western coast of the Jaffna peninsula, across causeways and narrow spits of land edged by prawn and sea cucumber farms, lie the quiet islands of Pungudutivu and Nainativu—places rich in history, hardship, and humanity. Though I had previously set foot on nearby islands like Mandativu, Kayts, Nainativu, and Karainagar during the war years, Pungudutivu remained a name I’d only heard in passing—until now. Prompted by a doctor’s account of the resilience and trials faced at the Pungudu

Introduction Sri Lanka is not an exception to the global trend of politicising and radicalising Muslim communities in response to conflicts unfolding far beyond its borders. Events in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, and now Gaza have all influenced and shaped the political and ideological landscape of Sri Lankan Muslims. No foreign armed conflict has left a more indelible mark than the war in Gaza, triggered by the devastating Hamas attack of October 7, 2023. Hamas — a brutal terrorist organisation —