The Admiral
The government is on a merry-go-round. Riding a painted horse. Music fading. Horse moving. Round and round. Same spot. Same circle. Same place. Forever.
One day the music will stop. The horse will freeze. The ride will end. But today they still spin. Happily. Proudly. Believing they are going somewhere.
The propaganda machine has started. Final act. Last performance. Show the people how sensitive we are. How simple. How human. How real.
Anura cries on stage. Tears flowing. Emotions overflowing. So sensitive. So genuine. So moving. The revolutionary who cries. He is even better than Chandimal Jayasingha.
Harini cries next to Victor Ratnayake. Beautiful duet of tears. She carries her own backpack. Even Sirmavo carried her bag. Also Chandrika had the most expensive handbag. But Harini has a backpack. Aney, look how simple. Look how humble. Look how relatable. The Prime Minister with backpack. Revolutionary simplicity.
Balthazar shops at Cargills Food City. Doing her own groceries. Ordinary woman. Common shopper. Someone secretly records her inside. Paparazzi. Then outside, same paparazzi openly recording. Very secret. Very spontaneous. Very real. Obviously. She is better than Denawaka Hamine for sure.
Anura gets hugged by random lady. Suddenly. No security. So accessible. So trusting. So brave. Remember Rajiv Gandhi assassination? No? Never mind. Hugs are safe. Security is optional. Drama is essential.
Nalinda and Bimal, the arrogant ministers, now sensitive souls. Emotional leaders. Feeling people's pain. Crying people's tears. Transformation complete. From arrogance to sensitivity. Just add cameras. This is like Wilson Karu and Somi Ratnayaka the villains of Ceylon cinema becoming Sanath In Viragaya and Gamini in Parasathu Mal.
Jayakody stands on coal tender crying. Sensitive man. Emotional about corruption. Tears for bad deals. Very moving. Very convenient. Crying fixes everything. Even billions wasted.
Chathuranga cries for everything. The cry baby. Tears on demand. Professional crier. Award-winning performance. This is Ranjan Ramanayake fake without backside episodes. Chathuranga can't do any side.
Kotahachchi cries hugging Ugandan pillow. International tears. Global sensitivity. Cross-border emotions. She is Swarna fake in Suddilaage Kathawa.
Wasantha, the multi-millionaire who never worked, cries hugging crypto pillow. Rich man tears. Expensive emotions. 270 million rupee sensitivity. The Rex Kodippili fake.
Harini wins. Mother of all crying. Champion crier. Biggest fake after Pumi Hansamali. At least Pumi's story is real. Whitened face and surgery body, but real story. Harini's tears are cinema. Pure performance. Oscar worthy.
Lakmali cries like Wanathamulla tap. Non-stop flow. Endless tears. Water shortage everywhere except her eyes.
Handunetti and Vijitha cry in broken English. How sweet. How touching. Aney. Revolutionary tears in colonial language. Very authentic. They could beat Tennyson Cooray and Bandu Samarasinghe anyday.
Lalkantha does not cry publicly. He cries only when drunk with women. Private tears. Classified emotions. Off-camera sensitivity.
So many cry babies. He is the Amarasiri Kalansooriya fake.
Entire cabinet weeping. Government of tears. Administration of emotions. Revolutionary sensitivity everywhere.
The country thought these were revolutionaries. Fearless fighters. Courageous warriors. People willing to die for the motherland. People ready to sacrifice everything.
People did not know the truth. These are fake JVPers. None fought the 89 rebellion. None faced Jayewardene. None challenged Premadasa. None risked anything. None sacrificed anything.
They are actors. Performance artists. Emotion manufacturers. Tear producers. Fake revolutionaries playing real revolutionaries. Very convincing. Until you check their history. Until you ask what they actually did. Until you demand proof of sacrifice.
Nothing. They did nothing. They were nowhere. They fought nobody. They risked nothing. They joined after the danger passed. After the real fighters died. After the real revolutionaries sacrificed. After the blood dried.
Now they cry on stage. Carry backpacks. Shop at Cargills. Get hugged. Show sensitivity. Perform simplicity. Manufacture authenticity.
And the country watches. Some believe. Some cry with them. Some share the videos. Some praise the humility. Some celebrate the sensitivity.
Wake up. These are fakes. All of them. Fake tears. Fake simplicity. Fake humility. Fake revolutionaries.
And the opposition? Also fakes. Ranil is fake J.R. Jayewardene. Sajith is fake Premadasa. Second generation photocopies. Diluted versions. Tribute acts. Cover bands. Fake sons of fake fathers playing fake politics.
The country has gone to the fakes. Government fakes. Opposition fakes. Leaders fakes. Revolutionaries fakes. Everything fake. Everyone performing. Nobody real.
The merry-go-round spins. The music fades. The horse keeps moving. Same place. Same circle. Same fake ride.Wake up. Stand up. See the fakes. Reject the performance. Demand real. Real sacrifice. Real courage. Real leadership. Real tears for real reasons. Not camera tears. Not propaganda emotions. Not manufactured sensitivity.
The music is stopping. The ride is ending. The fakes will fall. Wake up before you fall with them.