Bodyguards galore
About 10 years back I was introduced to this person at a restaurant. He had just returned from America, having lived there for a lengthy period. Like most returnees from cosmopolitan societies, he was confident, casual, conversed easily; listening politely and expressing himself moderately. To my ear, in his words there was nothing to suggest an unusual interest in local politics or even domestic issues.Perhaps, I did not listen as attentively as I ought to have, and failed to read between the lines. During that conversation of less than half an hour, he volunteered that he was a close relative of a person who had one time been a big name in the public service. In fact, they shared the surname. He also told me that he hails from down south, meaning the Southern Province. I think he used the word “deep” instead of “down”, with a certain stress.
Although in this little island, it only means about 100 miles south of Colombo, there was a deeper, ‘political’ meaning in the stressing of the location I felt. More importantly, he let it be known, kind of vaguely, with an emphasised modesty, that he had filial connections with President Mahinda Rajapaksa, who had been President only for a few years then.
The next time I met him was about six months later and the meaning of the things he had said at the earlier meeting, the unsolicited personal information given, became clear. There was an enormous transformation in the guy now. His style of his dress had changed; the well-creased trouser, sparkling white kurta type top, expensive watch, thick coils of holy thread around the wrist, leather sandals, announced a public figure.
The man, after a lengthy sojourn in the West, having armed himself with a qualification, had sacrificed a comfortable life there to return to his people, to his ancestral village to work for their betterment, to provide direction to the masses. He carried a “big” name and could claim connections to the political leadership of the country. There are no better qualifications for a public life.
Unlike the earlier time, now he had an entourage, about three big-made men, white shirt, dark trouser, obviously guarding, following and fussing over him. I asked him what had happened since we last met. Apparently, he had met President Mahinda Rajapaksa, who had appointed him a chief organiser for an electorate in the south (deep). Even his conversation style had changed, verbose, yet measured and portentous. The three bodyguards were part of his entitlements. I haven’t cared to meet the American returnee after that. A recent news item said that he had abandoned Mahinda Rajapaksa and joined the Government ranks.
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