Nestled along the northwestern coast of Sri Lanka, Puttalam is a town that often escapes the limelight. Yet, beneath its unassuming facade lies a rich tapestry of history, culture, and geopolitical significance. From ancient trade routes to modern-day challenges, Puttalam’s story is a microcosm of Sri Lanka’s broader struggles and triumphs.
Long before colonial powers set foot on the island, Puttalam was a bustling hub for maritime trade. Its strategic location made it a critical stop for merchants traveling between the Arabian Peninsula, India, and Southeast Asia. Archaeological evidence suggests that the port was active as early as the 3rd century BCE, with ties to the ancient kingdoms of Anuradhapura and Polonnaruwa.
The town’s name itself is believed to derive from the Tamil words "Puttu" (meaning "new") and "Alam" (meaning "port"), reflecting its role as a revitalized trading post under various South Indian dynasties.
By the 8th century, Arab traders had established a strong presence in Puttalam, introducing Islam to the region. The Moors of Puttalam—descendants of these early Arab settlers—became integral to the town’s economic and cultural fabric. Their influence is still visible today in the town’s mosques, cuisine, and unique dialect of Tamil infused with Arabic loanwords.
The 16th century brought violent change as Portuguese colonizers sought to dominate Sri Lanka’s coastal regions. Puttalam, with its lucrative salt pans and strategic position, became a battleground. The Portuguese destroyed many of the town’s Islamic landmarks, forcing the Moorish community to retreat inland.
When the Dutch ousted the Portuguese in the 17th century, they saw Puttalam’s economic potential differently. Rather than outright destruction, they imposed a strict monopoly on salt production—a policy that reshaped the local economy. The Dutch also left behind a few fortifications, though these are now little more than crumbling ruins.
Under the British, Puttalam became a key administrative center. The colonial government expanded coconut and tobacco plantations, exploiting local labor while inadvertently creating a new socioeconomic hierarchy. The remnants of this era can still be seen in the town’s colonial-era buildings and the enduring disparities between landowning elites and marginalized communities.
Today, Puttalam’s fishing communities face existential threats from climate change. Rising sea levels and erratic weather patterns have disrupted traditional fishing calendars, while industrial overfishing depletes stocks. Many fishermen now risk their lives venturing into disputed maritime zones, where they often clash with Indian trawlers.
Puttalam is also home to a significant population of internally displaced Muslims from the Northern Province, expelled by the LTTE (Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam) in the 1990s. Decades later, these refugees remain in limbo, struggling for land rights and integration. Their presence has occasionally sparked tensions with the local Sinhalese and Moor communities, reflecting Sri Lanka’s unresolved ethnic fractures.
The nearby Hambantota Port project, part of China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), has raised eyebrows in Puttalam. While some hope for spillover economic benefits, others fear debt traps and environmental degradation. The town’s salt pans and lagoons—critical ecosystems—are at risk from unchecked industrialization.
Few tourists visit Puttalam’s historical sites, but those who do are rewarded with hauntingly beautiful ruins. The remnants of the Dutch Fort, the ancient Jumma Mosque, and the mysterious "Kudiramalai" (Horse Mountain) shipwreck site whisper tales of a bygone era.
No visit to Puttalam is complete without sampling its unique cuisine. The town is famous for its salt-cured fish, a legacy of the Dutch monopoly, and "Puttalam Bites"—spicy, deep-fried snacks that reflect its multicultural roots.
As Sri Lanka grapples with economic crises and geopolitical pressures, Puttalam stands at a crossroads. Will its history be preserved, or will it be sacrificed for short-term gains? The answer may well determine not just the fate of this quiet town, but also the soul of the nation.