The culmination of the event was the offering of the pots to the Maha Sangha.
Unlike standard alms-giving ceremonies, the centerpiece of this event was the preparation and offering of specially prepared "Badu Pots".
Kurunegala, the royal capital of Sri Lanka during the 13th century, is a landscape punctuated by massive rock formations—Ethagala (Elephant Rock), Ibbagala, and Kurunegala Rock itself. Under King Bhuvanaikabahu I (1272–1284), the city was a bustling trade hub. Given its history of shifting capitals and constant warfare, it is historically plausible that wealthy families buried their liquid assets in clay pots before fleeing.
Before 2021, "digging for pots" was a dormant, illegal hobby. However, the COVID-19 pandemic changed the economic landscape. With tourism halted and daily wage labor scarce in rural Kurunegala, villagers turned back to the land. The spike in gold prices in 2020-2021 created a perfect storm. Suddenly, the legend of the Badu Pot became a lifeline. badu pot kurunegala 2021
By mid-2021, organized groups began renting backhoes (excavators) to dig massive trenches along the old riverbeds of the Deduru Oya. They weren't looking for irrigation; they were looking for burial pots. This led to violent clashes with the police. The term "Badu Pot" became synonymous with "illegal excavation" in local news reports.
In the tapestry of Sri Lankan folklore and rural pragmatism, the Badu Pot (or Badu Hattiya) stands as a relic of barter—an ancient marketplace where goods were exchanged not for currency, but for other goods. By 2021, however, the term took on a sharper, more desperate resonance in the historic city of Kurunegala. Located at a strategic junction of North Western Province, Kurunegala became an accidental epicenter of a modern barter economy. The “Badu Pot” of 2021 was not a festival of tradition; it was a survival mechanism born from the wreckage of an unprecedented economic crisis.
To understand the phenomenon, one must revisit the context of Sri Lanka in 2021. Following the disastrous fertilizer ban in April 2021, agricultural production collapsed. For Kurunegala, the "Rice Bowl" of the Wayamba region, the impact was immediate and catastrophic. Farmers who once filled granaries found themselves unable to cultivate. Simultaneously, the government’s foreign reserve crisis led to a draconian import ban on over 1,000 items, from fertilizers to essential food items like lentils, sugar, and milk powder. By late 2021, while the rest of the world was grappling with pandemic logistics, Kurunegala was grappling with a famine of manufactured goods juxtaposed against a surplus of local, unsellable produce. The culmination of the event was the offering
This paradox gave birth to the revival of the Badu Pot. Unlike the sophisticated digital barter of modern times, Kurunegala’s version was raw and visceral. Vegetable farmers, unable to buy a kilo of rice due to hyperinflation, began carrying their harvests to informal street corners near the Kurunegala Lake and the central bus stand. They sought the most basic of staples: a bag of dhal (lentils) for a bunch of beans, a packet of sugar for a kilo of onions, or a bottle of cooking oil for a basket of tomatoes. What made the 2021 Badu Pot unique was its regression: currency had become so volatile and scarce that trust reverted to the tangible value of food itself.
The social implications were profound. For the middle class of Kurunegala—the teachers, clerks, and small shopkeepers—the Badu Pot was a humiliation. It signified the collapse of the monetary system that structured their lives. Photographs circulated on social media showing professionals holding placards offering “Household items for Red Onions” or “Clothes for Rice.” Yet, for the rural poor, it was a desperate logic. As one farmer near Ibbagamuwa reportedly said, "I cannot eat a Rupee. But I can eat a pumpkin." In 2021, the Badu Pot was a silent protest against an economic theory that had forgotten the value of subsistence.
However, the revival of this ancient practice was not sustainable. The Badu Pot of 2021 was inefficient and prone to exploitation. A person with a stock of imported noodles (hoarded from black markets) could exploit a desperate fisherman for a week’s supply of fish. It was a system without a standard measure of value, leading to frequent arguments and social friction. Furthermore, the government viewed these informal barter circles with suspicion, as they operated outside the taxable economy. Police in Kurunegala occasionally dispersed these gatherings, not out of malice, but out of a misguided attempt to enforce a monetary system that had already failed. Under King Bhuvanaikabahu I (1272–1284), the city was
In retrospect, the Badu Pot of Kurunegala in 2021 serves as a historical canary in the coal mine. It was a stark reminder that money is merely a symbol, and when a state fails to uphold the value of that symbol, society instinctively reverts to the barter system. By the time the Aragalaya (struggle) protests erupted in 2022, the seeds had already been sown in the vegetable markets of Kurunegala. The Badu Pot was the quiet economic revolution before the political storm.
Today, as Sri Lanka slowly limps toward recovery, the image of those 2021 barter circles in the shadow of Elephant Rock remains a haunting lesson. It teaches us that development is fragile and that a society is only ever nine meals away from reverting to its most primal economic form. The Badu Pot of Kurunegala was not a romantic return to tradition; it was the sound of a modern economy grinding to a halt, forcing its people to trade potatoes for hope.
By the end of 2021, Badu Pot had transformed from a forgotten industrial scar into a national symbol of unregulated mining’s hidden cost. Environmental activists pointed out that over 30 such abandoned quarries existed in Kurunegala District alone, with zero safety audits. The year 2021 forced the Central Environmental Authority to begin a National Quarry Mapping Project – though as of late 2021, only 12% of abandoned pits were secured.