Namal’s 2.6m wedding light bill paid by Puttalam’s Santa Claus
New Saviour brings Christmas earlier to the Rajapaksa household
Athousand sentimental hearts will weep tears in relief this Sunday morn when they discover Namal’s wedding night’s lights which had cost over rupees two and a half million and had remained unpaid for four long years, had finally been paid, and paid in full, by a well-known benefactor out of the goodness of his heart.
Though Namal’s family had scraped the barrel to the dregs and broken all the family nest eggs to give the heir still in the wings a royal wedding that befits a prince, amidst the feast and much fanfare they had forgotten one trite care to pay the bill for an electrified display of an array of stars, without delay.
Oh! What a heavyweight the scion of this famous family oak tree -- which had once blossomed in the winter with the flowers of the spring -- would have in silence borne, endured being manacled to one sore leg with such an iron ball of guilt for nothing but a trifle debt that lay still unredeemed.
Although his family had provided him with the best primary and legal education that money could buy, the family had cut him loose without a cent, left him to fend for himself, learn from the school of life’s hard knocks the bitter lessons others learnt in circumstances worse, much dire.
But was it fair, was it just to expect from one so tenderly reared in cotton and wrapped in raw silk since birth to have the resilience to face an electricity bill?
The Ceylon Electricity Board seems to have understood his plight and granted him exception to the rule and had not cast him to the wolves.
Then suddenly from the Puttalam scene, where donkeys roam and rule the street, whose mulish brays command all right of ways, there comes an answer as Namal had prayed, a fairy godbro who -- though he does not need oxygen to breath -- has cash enough to spare and aid a fellowman in trouble weighed, whose impish stool turns hot, begins to glow, whenever some injustice starts to show, no matter from which founts they flow.
Now enters the incarnate symbol of Puttalam’s native breed of men, renowned throughout the land and age, hailed for their wisdom and admired for their stubborn strength, whose sturdy backs refused to bend before the tyrant’s whip and welt.
Puttalam’s foremost resident, MP Sanath Nishantha, whose exploits were gripping talk not only of his own home town but echoed far and wide beyond the west coast belt to noisily resound within the walls of courts, came like an angel heaven sent to grant his succour to a friend distressed: released Namal from his electricity debt. And in the manner of his mentor and guide, the Archangel before his fall from grace, ‘shaped’ the angelic son from an embarrassing disgrace.
God bless his soul this Sunday morn as he goes to church to thank the Lord, and with the gift of money blest, he had divined his charity’s sweet niche to thenceforth help the destitute poor rich.
So spoke the Good Samaritan as he hugged the limelight to spread his name and his good deed for the day. It was because he wished to spare his leader from an awkward smudge to taint his clean record. ‘The wedding night in question was illumined on security grounds, he said, ‘since President Sirisena and Prime Minister Wickremesinghe were present as guests on that night. But neither did the President nor any other institution pay this large electricity bill’.
Gosh! Who on earth would have thought such honoured guests -– the President and the PM no less -who had partaken in a scrumptious feast and had enjoyed all the delicious meals, would leave discreetly,
the reception hall, without paying the full electricity bill for the bedazzling wedding lights?
‘Since they have not honoured the debt,’ Sanath Nishantha said, ‘the burden of paying for Namal’s wedding lights has fallen on Namal’s head. Now after he fathered not one but two, social media had dragged this from the past to attack him again and again.’
‘I paid the entire amount’, Sanath Nishantha said, and, to ensure all were aware, declared the total bill’s exact amount which was Rs. 2, 682, 246 and 57 cents for a wedding night’s lights.
‘I did it for him, for Mahinda Rajapaksa. He’s the man who won the war, who launched massive development schemes. He has immensely helped me in politics and in business. I paid his bill for I couldn’t bear to see this innocent man being slandered,’ declared Sanath, enthusing over how he had paid his own bill of gratitude.
While others had forgotten, he had paid in one shot his master’s four-year dues to CEB, down to the last rupee and to the last red cent. Indeed it was a gift thrice blest. It was blest with joy before the giving; it was blest with joy when giving; and is blest with joy after it was given. The perfect charity as it was given -- as said in Sinhalese --with ‘thun sathutin’.
Unlike the VIP guests -- a President and a PM, no less -– who’d dined and wined and enjoyed the reception feast but done the dirty on the host and groom by scampering off to escape the need to pick up the tab for a wedding’s grand lights that turned the Rajapaksa’s ancestral home Medamulana’s skies to an exotic wonderland by night.
Indeed, as Sanath Nishantha would say, it was quite an unbecoming act for VIPs to stage, playing as they did -- for show at least -a gentlemanly role.
But though bemused by Sanath’s philanthropic part, the public asked how and where he had got all this lolly to make amends and pay the costs of someone whose squander of resources and the nation’s wealth had made the man the fabled white elephant of our times. Some said they’d heard Sanath Nishantha was involved in some sort of a fishy business and they were proved absolutely right.
Apparently, with the land turned waste, a graveyard for the souls it claimed, Sanath had seen in both lagoon and sea the rich potential that lay hidden deep beneath for any enterprising buccaneer to tap unlimited. Thus did Sanath Nishantha proudly claim his marine business Royalco Aqua Culture (Pvt) Ltd had been the source of his surprising wealth. And its address is: MR8M+M88 Deepa Sevana, Arachcchikattuwa, Chilaw, just 36 miles from his fishing home town of Puttalam. The bounty it earned had financed his charity to help the down and out
survive these bad bleak times, folk who had once helped him in their best of all time.
What a metamorphosis Sanath had undergone to turn from a cocooned worm to a carefree, multi-coloured butterfly that flits from flower to flower to suck its enriched sweet wine.
It was the same transformation he had experienced in life when he, from a politician on the make, had turned defender of the Rajapaksa faith; from backbench SLPP MP to become State Minister under Gota’s ruinous reign; and then from there, while occupying his seat of ministerial high office, to become a multimillionaire successful business magnate, running his own private company which farms crustaceans that creep and crawl and cling and hide on lagoon and ocean beds. From rich tycoon to now turn Santa Clause and bring to Namal’s and sire’s beds, a welcome Christmas for them both, come earlier this year, three months before it starts for all the devout rest.
But that’s not all. The much attendant publicity of his newfound generosity seems to have spurred ambition to take flight to the heights of charity.
In answer to a public call, not to rain his benevolence upon the Rajapaksa sire and son alone, but pour a deluging torrential monsoon of benevolence upon the worse-off poor and wash away their debts and tears, the Good Samaritan to the avaricious elite -dependent leeches on the public’s dehydrated skin -- Sanath turned saviour of the worst distressed, of those unfed, unsung, unwept whose burning griefs were left unsaid.
In the role of a haloed saint, unbeautified while still alive, the Blessed Sanath Nishantha announced that henceforth he will help the oppressed, be the redeemer of their woes, and pay the bills the CEB impose.
His simple words were unequivocally clear: ‘WhatsApp a photo of what your electricity outstanding’s entail and I will settle it on the nail’.
Such sweet words that were honey to hear to the poor’s forlorn hope deafened ear. Divine relief to have a saint who could bring heaven near; who, with a wave of wand, could wipe their fears, deny their eyes cascading tears. The miracle that multiplied crustaceans hauled before the morn, made the set sun arise to shine, and illumine their homes in twilight’s dusk or dawn.
May God forbid that he should fail, but, of course, there’s no reason why he should land on his tail. He holds his aqua firm as his own cornucopia from which his streaming riches flow; and he boldly talks like a man who had struck oil or gold. And cannot but boast his inspired desire to spread the bounty vaulted in his company’s stronghold.
There are those who prefer to give their costly gifts with thunderous crack and din when given. Sanath, whose charity began at Rajapaksas’ home --- from where it has not budged an inch since then but seems to have been held hostage -- has now professed his charity to help the poor with loud cacophonous noise and annoying
crackle though without a cent still donated.
Although his hailed philanthropy is yet to materialise in deed and not in words alone, the people’s hopes, with all the dread of breaking tears, hang breathless on his word. For surely as the gospel truth, despite the lies, despite false sooth, in spite of scoundrels who lie through each tooth, is the word of an honourable Lankan MP.
Their naivety makes them unable to believe that a politician’s word isn’t his bond, that honour isn’t his greatest wealth that he will squander for the richest gain and, with Shakespeare’s Iago, hold that, ‘he that filches from me my good name robs me of that which not enriches him and makes me poor indeed.’ As for today, he will lie with effortless ease for a free meal or sell his mother down the river to close a deal.
But let us not be haste, let’s grant Sanath the Saint the benefit of doubt, and rather than spoil the long-held hopes of a people who hopelessly still hold, give this Puttalam’s Santa Clause time to deliver on his promises made bold.
Except some nagging questions must be asked from Sanath Nishantha:
Can he, as the State Minister for Water Supply, who gets an official salary, an official residence, an official vehicle, an official travel allowance, security protection and staff, enjoys several perks and privileges, engage in private business and profit from it or from any other private business or actively be associated with such business enterprises, during the tenure of his state ministry office?
Or must he by law or otherwise by tradition or by a Code of Ministerial Ethics, suspend all such control, connections and activities and not privately profit from such businesses lest he risk a conflict of interest especially since he has a common interest in water both in his official role as State Minister of Water and in his private capacity as a significant shareholder of Royalco Aqua Culture ( Pvt ) Ltd to which company he has directed the public to send their request to pay their electricity bill which he had promised to pay –
And should he, if he hasn’t done so already, like business tycoon Dhammika Perera so nobly did by severing all connections with his blue chip and other 23 listed companies and business interests in his gambling empire and thrusting the reins to others to hold and control to prevent such conflicts of interests, even before he was sworn in Minister of Investment Promotion in June last year by Gotabaya, do so now at least?
How sad to see Sri Lanka plunged to such unfathomable wretched depths, how painful to behold her beggared people crawl out, like rat and roach, from such hell holes -- where sewers of corruption freely flow and gush above from founts dried up before -- to beg and seek perforce the succour from such stinking filthy proffered bowls?