The Election Secretariat was buzzing with energy on Thursday, as 39 presidential hopefuls flocked in to file their nominations. It was a day that could easily be mistaken for a reality TV show rather than a serious political event, and Rupavahini was there to broadcast every juicy moment live to the nation.
Viewers were treated to the ultimate political soap opera—complete with reluctant handshakes, awkward selfies, and representatives hobnobbing like they were at a high school reunion rather than a presidential nomination. One candidate, Wijeyadasa Rajapakshe, couldn’t resist comparing the whole affair to a tea kade—a Sri Lankan-style café, where everyone seems to have shown up for the chit-chat more than the chai.
The day’s drama kicked off at 8:00 AM sharp with Ven Baththaramulle Seelarathana Thera, who was so eager to get his nomination in that he arrived before the Secretariat’s gates were even open. Now that’s enthusiasm! Unfortunately, for the other candidates, their attempts at making a grand entrance were more of a flop than a blockbuster hit. Despite their best efforts—like the one guy who decked out his vehicle entirely in party symbol stickers—most arrivals were more cringe than cinema.
Inside the Secretariat, it seemed like the organizers had forgotten they were hosting a serious event. With the chaos resembling something closer to a festival crowd than a dignified nomination process, Mr. Rajapakshe couldn’t help but notice that the room was filled with what he described as “gangs and mobs.” Clearly, the Election Secretariat could use a lesson or two in crowd control.
But the true show-stealer was A.S.P. Liyanage, who, in a moment of honesty, told everyone that it was fine if people didn’t vote for him—because, well, he’s corrupt. At least he’s upfront about it? Meanwhile, former Sports Minister Roshan Ranasinghe brought his cricket bat symbol to the race, promising to knock corruption out of the park—though, judging by his experience with Sri Lanka Cricket, that might be a tough innings.
Outside the Secretariat, journalists were left sweating it out under the blazing sun, trying to figure out what on earth was happening inside. With a big screen that showed everything but let you hear nothing, they had to rely on their best guesswork. After all, who needs sound when you have a front-row seat to this political circus
