This cat reclined on her sofa licking her lips and salivating in anticipation of getting down to writing her weekly column. Why all this drooling you may well ask. Did she get to the cream? Sort of. She got the journalistic inspiration to deride further her bête-noir anti-hero, namely Wimal Wee, just one of its kind as cheap, loud mouthed pontificating showman. Yes. She wrote about his latest antic last Sunday but mercifully for such as this feline who thrives on malice, he is an ever yielding spout.
Wee Wee down the decades
She read with great pleasure almost an entire page in a Sunday newspaper of his life, tracing it from bicycle days of frugality to his days in the JVP doing what we can guess since we know so well what they did in 1971 and more so in 1989. Threats, fostering a dire fear psychosis and of course killing at random. Then came the spell in the sunshine emanating from the much sycophanted rising son of Medamulana, who soon enough moved to becoming the benevolent father – to his family and those who licked his slippers. Wee Wee got in the thick of the coterie surrounding the VVIP, put in his thumb, still slim, and pulled out the plum of the Ministry of Housing with plenty money and gifts to Santa Claus around. He wedded a flashy lady, who surprise surprise, we were told was the sister of the young man who lobbed a bomb in Parliament intending to kill JRJ and as many of his Cabinet as possible. JRJ emerged unscathed; PM Premadasa ditto, but with a shin injury - superficial but made a fuss of. One person died and poor Lalith bore the brunt of the bomb blast as it rolled along the table, probably watched by JRJ and burst under the chair he was seated on – Lalith A’s chair this cat means.
The Sunday columnist of this other paper went on to report how Wee Wee and wife both have double passports, one each being prestigious and door opening dpl ones. At least the man was a Minister of State at one time but how his lady was turned into a diplomat by the passport issuing office is a mystery to all. Now they are grounded, so no holidays in Disney Land, USA for that lucky family, the father of whom said that when he was a child the family lacked Rs 50 (or was it 15?) to go see Sigiriya. Now, they are so rich they can charter a plane to circumvent the globe. Their palatial residence emanated a stink recently. A young man, we do not know on what business, but reported to be a friend of the son, inconveniently died in a room within. Salacious rumours flew around. He was supposed to have had a heart attack – so young and apparently strong. There too the darling daughter cried protesting about gossip and later when Papa was in jail, asking he be released. The picture - so touching, so poignant, so pregnant with emotional nuances - is etched in this cat’s remembering mind. It is of her, the daughter dear, leaning anxiously as the President of the country stooped to give her father a sip of thambili when he, her father, was on a death fast against the UN – yes, the UN and its Secy. General. After the drink, pronto he arose as if he had not missed solid food and gave up his farce unto death.
So there is much to write about this pre-eminently nationalist, professing the Buddhist religion, which he is out to defend along with ragtag rowdies and yellow robed fellas, against the Constitution. Alack! He seems anti all other ethnicities and religions who so far lived amicably with each other and the majority Sinhalese and Buddhists.
Another opinion
To encapsulate what he suggests I quote a couple of sentences from this half page opinion in another daily on Wednesday November 1. It is penned by an experienced, high ranking public official, so it carries much weight. “Parliament that represents the people is symbolic of the supremacy of the people. Any insult or threat made against Parliament directly or indirectly by a member of the public or even a Member of Parliament directly impacts on the entire population…. Having been the Intelligence Officer of the country way back in the 1970s, the writer is constrained to observe that the ground is being craftily and systematically prepared for violence and rebellion by some interested in toppling the government. … it is akin to forest fires. … The government must act. It has the right to act. To nip in the bud any possibilities of the eruption of violence before they develop into uncontrollable, marauding juggernauts is the responsibility of the government.” If that is not saying much, what is?
Edward Gunawardena in his letter to the Editor unequivocally gives substance to a fear we have had for a while now, judging by constant strikes and rioting on highways, that forces probably puppet stringed by a VVIP puppeteer is trying to destabilize the country; overthrow the present government and take control. Your guess is as good as Menika’s, as regards the Master Puppeteer. No need to guess as to why Wee Wee is at his antics again. Like the forerunners of the Kandy Esala Perahera who lash the ground with their whips, he is the harbinger of beeg trouble.
First, the Honourable Speaker and then the law courts should question him about his bomb threat. He may try to pass it off as joking rhetoric, as this feline is sure he turned tables on his faux pas of saying at a lit fes that Guy de Maupassant wrote The Old Man and the Sea. He would later have said, after quick reference: “As if I did not know Hammingaway wrote that book. I was testing the audience. Did they know their Ingreesi literature and detect my hithala hadaapu mistake?”
Oh me, oh my! These are our Members of Parliament! The bomb they carry to blast the hallowed House should denote in their hands!
Menika