By Grusha Andrews –

Limini, you must be comfortable and cushy in the destination that you, your son and your parents have allegedly run away to. Karma is a bitch, right? You used to be escorted around Sri Lanka, with your wannabe President husband, Namal Rajapaksa – walking in to Ministries and presiding on events that you had no business in. Where he had no business in. You used to be escorted by the presidential security touring with your mother-in-law where people twice your age would worship her in all fours and then worship you too! Never saw you trying to stop the worshipping. Who’s worshipping you now?

Coitus Interruptus

Well, you’re facing a bit of a coitus interruptus, aren’t you Limini? A disruption of Namal, your parents, your in-laws and you having coitus with cryptocurrency? Then they were having coitus with the general economy of the country. Then having coitus with gas and electricity. And your wannabe President husband even addressed a rural rally where he said that as his traditional wife you were anyway keeping the gas cylinder outside the house. He said this after a mother died of a LP gas cylinder explosion. As a mother, probably cradling your son while reading this on your latest iPhone, any thoughts on a mother being blasted to death, Limini?

Vegetarian Vampires

Can you remember the great PR stunt of portraying yourself as a flag bearer of Sinhala-Buddhist tradition when your marriage was announced? Newspaper pages and cyber space were strewn with serenades about what a Sinhala drummer you were. What an athlete. How simple; how innocent; unassuming. So, virginal. So sweet. So traditional. A real aney pau- aney sweet moment. Oh, they also highlighted how vegetarian you are. At Bishops College did they teach you that Hitler was also a vegetarian? Like you unc-in-law Gota and Namal? Did they teach you how, Hitler ordered the bloodsucking murder of six million Jews? How does the metaphoric blood of people feel on your mouth Limini? Is it yum, yum? When the metaphoric blood of the people feeds your mouth through your vegetarian food, and digests in your body to produce the milk that your son feeds from your breast – that’s the blood of my father, mother, brother, sister. The blood of my children. It’s the blood of the man who died on a fuel queue; the gas queue. How does your son Kesara like the milk produced with our blood? Is it yum, yum? Aren’t you scared of the people’s curse that runs in your breast milk in to that innocent mouth? You are fed on our curse Limini. People are cursing your born and unborn children. They are cursing the born and unborn children of your sisters in law. They are keeping the picture of a bald Sandhya Ekneligoda as a reminder that Kali Amma lives in the sighs of the survivors of your family’s murders and not in the body of Gnanakka. As long as you eat, sleep, drink with our stolen money, the billions of dollars of cryptocurrency you and Namal swindled together, you are a vampire drinking our blood Limini. Vegetarian vampires. Shame on you.

Shangri-La – Hangila

Now we call Shangri-La, hangila (hideout). Some of your family members hid there on and off. Your family stooges hide there too. But can you hide from the dead spirits of Wasim Thajudeen, Lasantha Wickrematunge, Prageeth Ekneligoda, the mother who died in a gas cylinder blast, the father who died in a diesel queue? While you are pampered in your hideout with our stolen money, do you think you have run away? I challenge you Limini, put one Instagram post. One Facebook post. You can’t, can you? How long will you hide, like Namal hid in Shangri-La from a different embarrassing doom? Do you think life has secret elevators out to flee the spirits of the dead breathing down your neck?

How long can your parents can hide like this? You daddy will have to come back to claim the loot from the Ministry of Tourism and Port City, eh? And your mummy has to count the coffers at Busy Beans coffee shop. How long can all of you hide like this? Across the globe we are Sri Lankans with open eyes. You are just one woman with one child. We are a million people. How will you run away from us?

Limini’s Parents, Fail!

I’m a bit of a romantic. Even Idi Amin who allegedly ate human flesh had lovers. So why can’t someone love Namal – the wannabe President? But parents who preen and parade their young daughter in to the altar with those who literally and metaphorically have blood in their hands is beyond me. Sometimes our children might fall in love with an addict, a playboy, a murderer – parents have little control. I mean, see Bandula Gunawardane, Gammanpila, Johnston, Weerawansa – someone married those losers too! The world is an amazing place like that. But parents who give their child in marriage to profit from it – that’s disgusting. Just like your unc-in-law is a failed President, your parents are worse failures, Limini. Because they are prostituting your honor, your soul and your womb to make money. You might think you’re in it together with them – making cryptocurrency, winning tenders, striking deals. One day when the power of the people crashed upon your cash castle, you will realize how your parents sold you out. But don’t take it to heart – many desperate parents across Sri Lanka, India, Nepal, Pakistan and Bangladesh and all over Africa (including your family’s new heaven Uganda) sell their daughters for prostitution. But there’s a small difference. They barter their daughters for sex because they are poor and hungry. Not because they want to me billionaires in dollars. Not because they want to loot the money of the people to build personal empires. Those parents have more self-respect than your failed parents.

Pass A Message To Naki Mynah

Finally, Limini, when you do video calls to show your son Kesara to your mother-in-law, please catch your father-in-law. From Mahinda Mahattaya (Mr. Mahinda) to Maharajano (Great King) to Appachchi (Father), he has now fallen to the title Naki Mynah (Senile Mynah). Tell the Naki Mynah that we know he can hardly walk. That he is a pathetic, senile, dying murderer and a thief. Tell him we know that urine was dripping from his Adult Pampers while he was televising his ‘professionally delivered threat’ to the young citizens of Sri Lanka. Tell him that we won’t stop till his brother Gotabaya goes home. Or prison. We will not stop till the Naki Mynah leaves. To prison. Or to his grave. Whichever may come first. We will not stop till we audit your obsolete wannabe President husband, his looter brothers, your entire clan and cronies. The Naki Mynah and your looter family can’t turn the armed forces and police against us. You can’t incite racial and religious divisions amongst us. We understand that we are of one blood and you and your clan and cronies are sucking our blood.

In his address to the nation, the Naki Mynah ’advised’ us to go and ask our elders about politics and the past. That was a threat. Tell the Naki Mynah that I, Grusha Andrews, aged 32, asked my 82-year-old grandmother about the past.

Tell the Naki Mynah that my grandmother told me how Indira Gandhi died.

You tell the Naki Mynah that.

As he wipes the dripping urine down his shaking legs, frothing in his senility and wrath, you tell him that Limini.

You tell him that.