My Dear Prime Minister,
Your speech at the May Day rally got me thinking. The fiery rhetoric, the passionate promises, the sweeping condemnations of others. I listened carefully to every word. And I couldn’t help but reflect on the stark transformation I’ve witnessed. You are not the same person you were before you became Prime Minister.
Like many Sri Lankans, I placed my hopes in you. I believe your academic background and activist history would translate into governance that truly served the people. I trusted that your promises weren’t merely election tactics but commitments carved from genuine conviction.
You were one of the primary reasons people voted for the NPP. Your intellect and articulate vision persuaded citizens beyond the traditional JVP voter base to support this coalition. But power appears to have changed you in ways both subtle and profound.
Now, your mouth spews hate, and your eyes flash with anger rather than compassion. Your speeches divide rather than unite. According to your narrative, everyone except those within your inner circle is a rogue, incompetent, or crony. This black-and-white worldview might serve political rallies, but it poisons the well of national discourse.
You’ve positioned yourself as the economic wizard, the moral compass, and the embodiment of social justice. It’s all about you, your vision, righteousness, and solutions. The collaborative leadership you once championed has given way to something resembling a cult of personality.
Most disturbing is your response to the young man who lost his life due to ragging. You proclaimed you would deliver justice yet immediately deflected blame on “the system.” Really? Is this your answer to a grieving mother that an abstract “system” is responsible rather than specific individuals who must be held accountable?
You insist you need time to fix this system. But a mother doesn’t need systematic reform to see her son’s killers brought to justice. She needs immediate, decisive action from those in power, from you, Prime Minister.
Do you genuinely feel for this mother? Can you honestly place yourself in her position? If your own child had been so brutally taken, would you calmly explain that “the system needs to be fixed first” before justice could be served? Or would you move heaven and earth to ensure those responsible finally face justice? Each speech without corresponding action is being noted. Each promise unfulfilled is remembered. Each deflection of responsibility is recognized. These moments will define your legacy far more than your eloquent words or ideological purity.
There will be a judgment day, not in some distant afterlife, but in the real history assessment. When Sri Lankans look back at this critical period, will they see a leader who converted righteous anger into meaningful change? Or merely another politician who mastered the language of justice while failing to deliver its substance?
The choice, my dear Prime Minister, remains entirely yours. But time is running short, and people’s patience wears thinner daily.
With unwavering concern for our nation,
A concerned mother
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