By Roger Srivasan
Sri Lanka stands at a pivotal national moment — an era of long-delayed reform, accountability, and renewed hope. Yet, amid this transition, a handful of Tamil politicians appear intent on derailing progress through reckless provocation. Foremost among them is Rasamanickam Shanakiyan, MP, whose behaviour has strayed far beyond legitimate political critique. A political storm is unmistakably brewing — and at its centre stands a man whose shrill theatrics betray not leadership, but desperation. For weeks, Shanakiyan has unleashed a torrent of insensitive, inflammatory, and wholly unsubstantiated allegations — even claiming that the present reformist administration is responsible for “death and destruction.”
These are not the measured words of a statesman; they are the desperate shrieks of a cantankerous charlatan grasping for relevance. His remarks reveal a troubling pattern: the weaponisation of Tamil suffering for personal political mileage. Such egregious and nefarious point scoring activities do not strengthen the Tamil cause — they weaken it, distort it, and drag it into disrepute. Such disingenuous attempts at point scoring only expose the intellectual vacuity of those who peddle in such an egregious, nefarious activities.
Far from fooling the Tamil community, his theatrics are met with overwhelming rejection. The
people recognise the emptiness of his rhetoric and are weary of politicians who thrive on discord rather than deliver solutions. At a time when the government is making tremendous strides — widening democratic space, strengthening accountability, and dismantling entrenched corruption — Shanakiyan bellows as though the nation were collapsing. His narrative is discordant with the lived reality of Tamils who seek dignity, opportunity, and constructive engagement. The emerging Tamil generation desires stability, progress, and
partnership. What they receive instead from Shanakiyan is a tawdry spectacle — a man so consumed by theatrics that he has failed to notice the evolving aspirations of his own people.
Shanakiyan is not responding to a crisis; he is manufacturing one. He is not amplifying Tamil fears; he is amplifying his own. The political storm gathering today is not the result of national decay, but of individuals terrified of irrelevance. Sri Lanka is entering a new epoch — one where justice rises, corruption recedes, and communities begin to imagine a shared future. Yet it is in such periods of transformation that political pretenders reveal themselves most loudly. Rasamanickam Shanakiyan must recognise that the Tamil community deserves dignity, progress, and responsible leadership — not shrill theatrics, distortion, or nefarious mischief dressed as advocacy. Until he abandons these destructive habits, he remains what
his conduct proclaims: a cantankerous charlatan betraying the very cause he claims to champion.
