By: Isuru Parakrama
April 21, Colombo (LNW): Six years have passed since the morning of April 21, 2019, when Sri Lanka was shaken to its core by a series of coordinated bombings that tore through churches and luxury hotels, claiming the lives of over 260 innocent people and injuring over 500 more.
As the country marks the sixth anniversary of the Easter Sunday attacks, memories remain painfully vivid, and the call for justice continues to echo across communities, transcending religious and ethnic boundaries.
The attacks, which targeted Catholic worshippers celebrating Easter Mass and foreign guests at high-end Colombo hotels, were carried out by a group of Islamist extremists affiliated with a local militant outfit.
Their actions shattered a decade of relative peace following the end of Sri Lanka’s brutal civil war in 2009. For many, it felt like history had cruelly repeated itself, replacing the hope of reconciliation with fear, uncertainty, and grief.
Time, whilst offering some solace, has not dulled the pain for the families who lost their loved ones in the carnage. Parents who lost children, spouses robbed of their partners, and survivors bearing both physical and psychological scars continue to navigate a world that changed forever in the space of a few minutes.
The wounds inflicted that day run deep, etched not only into personal lives but also into the collective conscience of the nation.
Every year since 2019, solemn memorials have been held in the affected churches—St. Sebastian’s Church in Negombo, St. Anthony’s Shrine in Kochchikade, and Zion Church in Batticaloa—where survivors, families of victims, and members of the clergy come together in prayer and remembrance.
The sight of flickering candles, photographs of the departed, and tearful tributes are stark reminders of what was lost. Though some survivors have found ways to rebuild, the scars of that dark morning are permanent.
Beyond the personal tragedies, questions surrounding accountability, justice, and prevention remain largely unanswered. Investigations and commissions were launched with promises of transparency and reform, yet many families and citizens feel betrayed by the lack of concrete outcomes.
Key findings have been mired in political wrangling, bureaucratic delays, and a perceived absence of will to prosecute those responsible for negligence. The perceived inaction has bred frustration, with victims’ families questioning whether the lessons of that day have truly been learned.
Religious leaders, particularly within the Catholic Church, have persistently called for justice and truth, demanding clarity about the lapses in intelligence that allowed the attacks to unfold despite prior warnings.
The Archbishop of Colombo, His Eminence Cardinal Malcolm Ranjith, a vocal advocate for accountability, has been unwavering in his calls for answers, representing not only his congregation but a broader national yearning for closure and truth.
Despite the pain, moments of unity have emerged. In the aftermath of the attacks, communities of all faiths and backgrounds stood together in solidarity. Buddhists, Hindus, Muslims, and Christians lit candles and held vigils side by side, determined not to let violence divide them.
It was a powerful statement against extremism—that Sri Lanka’s mosaic of faiths and ethnicities could coexist, even amidst profound sorrow.
This sixth anniversary is a poignant time for reflection—not only to remember the innocent lives lost but also to ask what kind of society Sri Lanka wishes to become.
“Are the lessons of Easter Sunday being translated into policies that safeguard pluralism, social cohesion, and security? Has the tragedy become a catalyst for change, or has it faded into the routine of political cycles?“
For many Sri Lankans, the memory of Easter Sunday remains not just a national tragedy, but a personal marker of grief, resilience, and unresolved pain. The need to remember is not merely ceremonial—it is essential to honour the victims, to demand justice, and to ensure that such horror is never repeated. Only through sustained reflection and honest reckoning can the country move towards healing.
As church bells ring once more across the island on this solemn day, they do so not only in mourning but as a call to conscience. Six years on, Sri Lanka stands at a crossroads—still bearing the weight of its sorrow, still demanding the truth, and still striving, however haltingly, toward peace.
