Drugs, Deals, and the Big Fish That Might Fry

“Two thousand complaints already,” muttered one MP over his tea. “And that’s only the ones they’ve dared to record. South’s buzzing like a wasp nest. Padme and clan have started singing like canaries. Next thing you know, the big boys will be tripping over each other to cut deals.”

But the real chatter in the canteen isn’t about the small fry—it’s about who’s going down next. The names Rohan Olougala and Linton keep coming up. “They won’t give in easy,” one government backbencher smirked. “Those fellows have survived more clean-ups than cockroaches in this place. But this time, the President wants a trophy head.”

President Anura is gearing up to start year two with his grand anti-narcotics crusade—nine provinces, every ministry from Defence to Education, the whole circus. Minister Wijepala is boasting about rooting out the rotten cops and Customs men who’ve been guarding drug containers like watchdogs. “We can’t clean the stables in two years,” he admitted. “But we’ll find the ones still fattening off the old system.”

“Ha,” an opposition MP shot back. “They’ll catch the odd crooked sergeant or customs clerk, parade him for the cameras, and let the container kings toast champagne in Dubai. Same script, new actors.”

Still, there’s a nervous edge. The gossip is that at least one “untouchable” will be touched soon—someone who’s been protected across governments. If that happens, Anura can strut. If not, it’ll be another show of firecrackers without the flame.

And while all this is brewing, the old SJB-UNP reunion rumour has crept back into the dining hall. “Mark my words,” whispered a veteran MP between bites of dhal curry, “if those two camps patch things up, Anura’s drug war will be the least of his problems. He’ll need narcotics himself just to calm the headache.”