367 BCE - 205 BCE    “When a defining moment comes along, you define the moment, or the moment defines you.”  Kevin Costner     A modest mystery immediately greets the hard pressed historian on encountering the death of Sri Lanka’s first and possibly greatest king, Pandu Kabhaya.  His impossibly long reign – some 70 years ( - and that following an extended youth tormenting and eventually killing his uncle)  – defies all reasonable expectation of life expectancy at the time.   Some scholars, fretting at the impossible arithmetic athleticism of the great king, helpfully suggest an extra king at this point – a shadowy name emerges from antique mists: Ganatissa, said to be a son of Pandu Kabhaya. Or was he a grandson?  Or just a royal blind alley?  It is a mystery that is never likely to be cleared up, but if Ganatissa was an invisible king, Mutasiva, said to have been Pandu Kabhaya’ son, emits at least the glimmer of glorious light.  His existence is not in question.  His reign was long, and he is said to have enlarged Anuradhapura creating Mahamevnāwa, an enormous park noted for its flowering trees and fruits. And mindful of his dynastic obligations, Mutasiva also produced 9 sons, 5 of whom would rule after him.    Certainly, something went very right during the reigns of Pandukabhaya, (?Ganatissa) and Mutasiva for during this period, civil war, that had rocked the reigns of Panduvasdeva’s sons, draws not even the merest whisper in the chronicles.  This period of calm government would have enabled the state to become increasingly centralised, and in so doing, embedded Vijayan rule and the ascendency of the Anuradhapura Kingdom across the island.  Mutasiva’s peaceful death, in 307 BCE, made clear that the Vijayans were there to stay.   It turned out that this was the best of all possible times to take stock of the kingdom, and lift its game.  And it was fortunate that when Sri Lanka’s paramount defining moment occurred, it had a king talented enough to make best sense of it, though in the decades after his death, all was nearly lost by feeble heirs and violent invaders.    Devanampiya Tissa, old King Mutasiva’s second son, is described by The Mahavaṃsa as being "foremost among all his brothers in virtue and intelligence".   To get anywhere close to this remarkable king (307 – 267 BCE)  you should take yourself off to a mountain in Mihintale, 16 kilometres east of Anuradhapura.  There stands a modest, much weathered, armless stone statute of Devanampiya Tissa, just over six feet high, gazing out across the grand ruins and remains of the religious citadel. It marks the very spot where Sri Lanka became Buddhist. Gaze into the stoney eyes of the king – for, unlike so much other statutory, this one, argue the scholars, actually dates from very close to the death of this Buddhist welcoming monarch.   Like the Vijayans, Buddhism also came from India - and it has naturalised so completely across the island that it is impossible grasp any aspect of the country’s past or present, without first comprehending the centrality of this, its main religion.  It arrived through a series of intimate stories in which faith follows friendship – for King Devanampiya Tissa had struck up a pen-pal relationship with the celebrated Indian Buddhist emperor, Ashoka.   Gifts followed letters, and a missionary followed the gifts when Ashoka despatched his own son, Mahinda, to Sri Lanka. The young missionary prince was to live on the island for 48 years, out-living Devanampiya Tissa, and dying, aged 80 after a lifetime spent promoting Buddhism, the beneficiary of a state funeral at which his relics were interred in a stupa in Mihintale.   For it was at Mihintale that Mahinda first met Devanampiya Tissa. The king, it was said, was out hunting. Expecting a stag, the ruler instead found himself a missionary. A testing exchange on  the nature of things followed, and then a sutra was preached. The rest