To bathe an elephant
An August Morning Ritual.

A herd of elephants march down the Rambukkana Road into the Maha Oya river, where they spray themselves while the Mahouts wash, scrub and clean them.
This is the famed river bathing of elephants at Pinnawala. While it is an extraordinary thing to witness, it is a daily occurrence, work routine and an economic opportunity for the mahouts, tour-guides, workers, hawkers, shop-keepers and restaurateurs.

The elephants are from the Pinnawala Elephant Orphanage. It started as a place that housed and cared for the orphaned elephants found lost and wandering in various forests and plains of Sri Lanka. And over the years, it has expanded in scope and now has a vibrant breeding program that has spawned three generations.

You park your car at the mouth of the Rambukkana Road and walk towards the Maha Oya. It’s the same route that the elephants will be marching on as well. People walk. Elephants march. It’s as simple as that, even in the case of captive elephants.

As you walk down the road, you are surrounded by shops on either side of the street — the same type of shops across major tourist spots in Sri Lanka — travel agencies, shops that sell cheap clothes, teas, gem stones and kitsch. The road is book-ended by restaurants that claim to have the best seats to observe this cleansing ritual. That of course is not true as you can just walk to the river bank — but then you won’t be having fries and beer to go with the gazing.

As this is the largest herd of captive elephants in the world — they span across generations, vary in sizes and crucially differ in their personality. While most of them are allowed to roam free, some are chained to the hooks that have been drilled into the river rocks.

The mahouts carry an elephant goad — a wooden stick with a sharp and curved metal tool to manage the elephants. Called the Ankusha in Sanskrit, the elephant goad first made its formal appearance in the 6th-5th century BC in India and is depicted at a fresco painting in the Ajanta caves. The goad is a training and punishing tool, and hence many are opposed to its use, while the mahouts, who form a long special relationship with their elephant, claim it is a necessity to guide the behavior of an animal that weighs 3000–5000 Kilograms.
As they get ready to bathe, the mahouts tell the tourists to stay a distance away from the water — the reason is unclear, maybe to ensure safety, or maybe to drum up business for the restaurants or as is usually the case, a bit of both.





Now they get down to business, as the elephants stand in the river, they start to splash water on them and make some of them lie down on the side to be scrubbed clean. Out-numbered by elephants, the work of the mahouts is exhausting. Some elephants have sprinkled themselves with dust and the contrast in colors between the bathed and the unwashed is stark — of brownish rust and black. The mahouts do all they can, but time is a factor here — the elephants have to leave the river by noon as there will be more tourists waiting at the orphanage to participate and take photos during their feeding time. Watching them bathe is free of charge, but one has to get a ticket to feed them or watch them being fed. So as the clock ticks away, these magnificent pachyderms are back on the road.


It all gets over so soon.
It only takes about ten minutes for the elephants to walk the road, and first thing I notice is how calm the river has become. The Maha Oya caressed by different shades of green is a sight of beauty, tranquility and grace. The rocks look like they are slowly and elegantly pouring into the river. A sense of calmness starts to spread from the river end to the road — the opposite of the humdrum of activities that took place two hours ago.

The river starts to flow smoothly again. The rocks go silent. The tourists leave. The shops are shutdown. The place looks like nothing had happened.
Till it all starts over again in the evening.

