-By Tamil Affairs Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -05.April.2025, 11.00 PM) In a masterclass of diplomatic juggling, Prime Minister Narendra Modi met with a delegation of Tamil leaders in Sri Lanka this week, presumably armed with handshakes, housing promises, and the kind of deeply thoughtful nodding only world leaders have truly mastered.
The meeting was part of Modi’s three-day trip to the island nation—because nothing says “regional harmony” like flying in, offering infrastructure, and dropping a few loaded constitutional reminders before boarding your return flight.
In Colombo, Modi sat down with what is loosely termed a “delegation of Tamil leaders”—a phrase that here seems to mean a mix of actual elected representatives, a few political ghosts from elections past, and at least one man who may or may not just be loitering in the diplomatic lounge with an old TNA lapel pin and impressive LinkedIn endorsements.
Among those remembered with great solemnity were and Mavai Senathirajah—veterans of Tamil politics. Both men were paid glowing tributes by Modi, despite neither currently holding office, and despite one of them reportedly haunting foreign embassies more than attending local meetings. A political zombie, some whisper. But a respectable one, wearing a suit.
Modi posted on 'X' (formerly Twitter, formerly a pleasant afternoon activity) saying it’s "always a pleasure to meet the leaders of the Tamil community of Sri Lanka," though he did not specify whether the pleasure was diplomatic, spiritual, or just a relief to sit somewhere air-conditioned.
He conveyed India’s “unwavering commitment to a life of equality, dignity, and justice” for the Tamil people. Admirable goals, all. Though critics noted that “unwavering” in South Asian diplomacy often means “enthusiastic during press conferences, slightly hazy by tea time.”
The meeting had the kind of awkward energy you might expect when a Prime Minister with a billion-strong electorate sits down with a group representing a community still waiting for reconciliation, rights, and roads that don’t disappear in the monsoon.
Observers say the delegation, though billed as representative, may have included more political exes than Tinder on a Monday morning. Some were previously ousted by voters, some self-appointed, and one fellow reportedly wandered in from a panel discussion on Tamil cinema but stayed for the samosas.
Still, no one left empty-handed.
PM Modi announced a fresh batch of 10,000 houses for Indian-origin Tamils—a generous, if now traditional, diplomatic offering. In fact, the Indian-origin Tamil community may soon be the only people in Sri Lanka who can afford real estate without calling a cousin in Dubai.
India also pledged help with healthcare, cultural sites, and the ever-symbolic Seetha Eliya temple—proof that nothing fosters regional harmony like renovating mythological landmarks from the Ramayana.
In his speech, Modi referred to Tamils as a "living bridge" between India and Sri Lanka—a poetic phrase that may explain why successive governments keep walking over them.
He was warmly received, even as he casually reminded the Sri Lankan government (again, in public) about the need to “implement the constitution fully” and hold “provincial elections”—which in Colombo is received with the same enthusiasm as someone reminding you to finally clean out your garage.
The Tamil issue, of course, is the region’s diplomatic fidget spinner: everyone keeps spinning it in circles, no one really solves it, and every once in a while someone tries to throw it in the bin, only to find it spinning right back into their inbox.
While the civil war officially ended in 2009, many in the Tamil community remain in a kind of political limbo—a status that’s frustrating for human rights advocates but deeply convenient for people who enjoy forming task forces, holding peace talks, and issuing heartfelt press releases.
Modi’s message? That India stands by the Tamil community. Preferably from a respectful distance, while also doing major business with the central government.
In true democratic spirit, Modi also met Sri Lankan opposition leader Sajith Premadasa, who—according to tradition—is required to be in the photo-op but not necessarily say anything memorable.
The two leaders posed for photos, smiled vaguely, and then presumably went off to their next meetings with the same energy as two cousins who only meet at weddings and elections.
It’s worth noting that despite the strong words and stronger hashtags, the Tamil political scene is in disarray, a bit like a WhatsApp group chat where everyone’s muted the notifications. There’s no unified front, no clear successor to the veteran leaders, and far too many people still arguing over who gets to sit closest to visiting dignitaries.
The 10,000 houses promise is by now a hallmark of Modi's regional diplomacy. In fact, if one were to chart Modi’s promises over the years, the sheer number of homes promised to Sri Lanka alone could constitute a small suburb—or at the very least, a modest Ikea catalogue.
And while critics may snark about whether these houses ever get built on time, Modi’s supporters insist they represent goodwill, cooperation, and just enough construction noise to drown out thorny political questions.
But even among the generous pledges, there was still the faint smell of elephant dung in the room—namely, the unresolved political grievances of the Tamil people, who are still waiting for that elusive mix of power devolution, constitutional clarity, and someone to finally explain what “unitary state” actually means in Sinhala.
Naturally, Modi took to X/Twitter to summarize the visit in a thread that was part diplomacy, part travel diary. Quotes from ancient Tamil texts were shared. Hashtags were deployed like honorary degrees. Followers retweeted enthusiastically, many of them not entirely sure where Trincomalee is but deeply confident it should be developed.
For India, the Tamil issue is both a matter of cultural kinship and strategic positioning. It’s a tightrope act: be seen as the defender of Tamil rights without annoying Colombo too much. After all, one does not want to jeopardize port projects, energy corridors, or China’s growing fondness for large concrete things near the ocean.
Meanwhile, reconciliation in Sri Lanka continues much like a long-running soap opera: slow-paced, slightly dramatic, and mostly watched out of obligation.
There are scenes of progress—occasional commissions, symbolic gestures, and housing projects—but the plot hasn't advanced in years, and no one is sure if the series finale is ever coming.
For many Tamil citizens, the visit offered momentary hope. For others, it felt like another round of handshakes and headlines with no real shift in power structures. But all agreed the samosas were excellent.
As Modi wrapped up his three-day charm offensive, he left behind a trail of polite headlines, large-scale promises, and at least three local officials who now believe they are personally close friends with him.
The Tamil leaders, meanwhile, returned to their meetings, tweets, and debates about unity, strategy, and whether the next Indian PM will also bring them housing or perhaps go wild and throw in a WiFi tower.
And so, once again, regional diplomacy sails gently down the stream—powered by good intentions, cultural diplomacy, and the occasional awkward selfie.
As the Prime Minister’s plane took off from Colombo, one could almost hear the collective sigh of every Tamil political strategist on the island: “Well... that was nice. Now what?”
-By Tamil Affairs Correspondent
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by (2025-04-05 17:29:07)
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