By Mahinda’s Mansion: The Grand Political Football Match
It appears that the most exciting game in Sri Lankan politics right now isn’t an election or a fiery parliamentary debate—it’s a thrilling round of “Kick the Mansion.” The ball in play? Former President Mahinda Rajapaksa’s palatial government residence. And as with all great games, the spectators (also known as the general public) are enjoying the spectacle from the sidelines, munching on their metaphorical popcorn.
President Anura Kumara Dissanayake, in his usual no-nonsense style, has firmly stated that Mahinda must pack his bags and return the house. “It’s not personal,” he insists, “but 30,500 square feet for two people? That’s not a house, that’s an indoor stadium.” He has also reassured the former leader that if he truly finds himself homeless—a highly unlikely scenario given his financial portfolio—an alternative residence will be provided. Perhaps something a little more modest? Like, say, a cozy 30,000 square feet?
A new Act
Deputy Minister Sunil Watagala, in a move that surprises no one, has ruled out sending a polite eviction letter. Instead, he suggests simply changing the law in Parliament. After all, when you have a two-thirds majority, why waste a perfectly good envelope and postage stamp?
Mahinda, for his part, has adopted the time-honored strategy of sitting tight and hoping everyone gets bored. It’s a bold tactic. If history has taught us anything, it’s that politicians have a remarkable ability to remain seated until the chair is physically removed from under them. But Mahinda is not just any politician—he is a seasoned veteran who has successfully ignored many issues in the past. Why stop now?
Of course, the real winners here are the Sri Lankan public, who get to enjoy yet another episode of political theatre. The mansion issue has provided much-needed comic relief amidst economic turbulence. “Why watch cricket when politics offers so much more entertainment?” one citizen was overheard saying.
Meanwhile, the President also had some pressing economic matters to address, namely, the great vehicle import saga. After years of being forced to drive ancient, gasping jalopies held together by duct tape and prayers, Sri Lankans can finally import new cars again. But—there’s a catch! (Of course there is.) The President warns that if everyone rushes to import vehicles at once, the dollar will spike, prices will skyrocket, and suddenly, buying a tuk-tuk might require taking out a mortgage.
In an attempt to curb unnecessary spending, President Dissanayake has also slashed his own budget by 50%. A remarkable feat indeed, considering that politicians usually find innovative ways to increase their budgets. “We are not here to waste public money,” he assures the people. And as everyone nods in agreement, they can’t help but glance back at Mahinda’s 30,500-square-foot humble abode and wonder just how much that monthly electricity bill is.
For now, the mansion remains a political football, being kicked back and forth between the government and Rajapaksa. Whether Mahinda finally packs up and leaves, or whether Parliament has to draft a special “Presidential Mansion Extraction Act,” remains to be seen. But one thing is certain—Sri Lankan politics never fails to entertain!
