-By LeN Diplomatic Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -28.April.2025, 11.30 PM) When a lone foreign national strolled into the Russian Embassy in Colombo this afternoon, leaving behind an innocuous-looking parcel and an abundance of unanswered questions, the diplomatic quarter of the city found itself gripped by a curious mixture of panic and farce.
What followed was a scene fit for a Graham Greene novel, if Greene had ever imagined bomb disposal squads, suspicious laptops, and an ex-Maldivian president accused of missile conspiracy — all colliding on a lazy tropical afternoon.
It all began innocently enough, according to sources within the Cinnamon Gardens Police, when a "foreign gentleman," described only as "nervous but determined," presented embassy staff with a parcel said to contain a laptop, before briskly departing the premises without so much as a backward glance — or, more crucially, an explanation.
Given the tense state of global affairs, Russian diplomatic officials wasted no time transforming from bureaucratic nonchalance into red-alert mode, immediately summoning Colombo’s finest: the Special Task Force (STF), a bomb disposal unit, the Cinnamon Gardens Police, and even a canine unit — presumably to sniff out whatever grim possibilities the parcel might conceal.
As blue lights flashed and bomb squad technicians in full gear descended upon the embassy like actors in an overzealous Cold War revival, onlookers gathered at a safe (but curious) distance, smartphones aloft. One enthusiastic tuk-tuk driver was overheard offering "front-row seats" for 500 rupees, adding that "Russian drama always better than Bollywood!"
Police sources later confirmed that after an anxious inspection, the bomb squad found nothing explosive about the laptop, other than the state of diplomatic nerves. The device was whisked away to the Cinnamon Gardens Police Station for further forensic examination, just in case.
While the Russians exhaled and Colombo’s police force patted itself on the back, a new twist to the drama emerged — one that lifted the incident from bureaucratic mishap into full-blown geopolitical satire.
According to diplomatic chatter — the sort that thrives after three strong cups of embassy coffee — the Russian Ambassador in Colombo has privately "unmasked" the real hand behind the suspicious delivery: none other than Mohamed Nasheed, the former President of the Maldives.
Or, as he is allegedly now known among Russian circles: Hassan Kurssi (a nickname roughly translating to "Hassan the Chair," a nod both to Nasheed’s former presidential office and perhaps, more darkly, to his alleged tendency to stir up trouble from a seat of influence).
Sources suggest that Nasheed has recently become somewhat of a Russian bugbear, having publicly accused Russian operatives of using Malé as a transit hub for missile chip smuggling — a claim that sent ripples through the diplomatic cocktails of both Moscow and Colombo.
And so, conspiracy theorists inside the embassy — a group presumably large enough to start its own cricket team — quickly drew a line between Nasheed's allegations and today's parcel panic. The theory? Nasheed, feeling the heat of Moscow's disapproval, orchestrated the suspicious delivery as a "message" or perhaps as an elaborate distraction.
As one embassy insider reportedly muttered into their tea: "When it comes to Nasheed, expect drama, laptops, and maybe the occasional fabricated missile."
Diplomatic observers were quick to point out that the Russians are no strangers to parcel-based paranoia. Across Europe, Russian embassies have faced their share of suspicious packages — some harmless, others not. But even the most hardened among them admit that today’s events were handled with "all the subtlety of a bear in a ballet school."
An eyewitness account from a Colombo café adjacent to the embassy recounted "half the embassy staff running in suits and ties as if Godzilla had arrived." Meanwhile, a particularly enterprising bomb squad officer was seen negotiating, rather humorously, with embassy security about whether coffee could be delivered during the four-hour standoff.
"No bombs, but many bruised egos," quipped one Sri Lankan police officer, requesting anonymity.
The bigger question emerging from this otherwise minor diplomatic tremor is the precarious fate of Mohamed Nasheed.
Once celebrated as a democratic reformer, Nasheed’s penchant for airing dirty laundry — particularly Russian — has made him a target for ire in unexpected quarters. His vocal warnings about missile parts flowing through Malé have strained already brittle relationships, with Colombo increasingly seen as an unwilling stage for his drama.
Russian officials, while not formally accusing Nasheed, have hinted that “some individuals” are seeking to "undermine peace and stability" in the region. Translated from Diplomatic to English: expect stern memos, frosty receptions, and perhaps even the odd "strongly worded letter" from Moscow to Malé.
As for Nasheed, whether he indeed orchestrated today's mischief or is merely the convenient scapegoat of a jittery embassy remains to be seen. For now, he continues to split his time between activism, tweeting provocatively, and — if Russian fears are to be believed — plotting parcel-based chaos.
By early evening, with the laptop safely impounded and the embassy returning to its usual rhythm (which, insiders say, remains "tense, and deeply suspicious of anything that moves"), jokes began circulating among Colombo’s diplomatic corps.
At the USA Embassy , one official quipped that the laptop probably contained "either Love Letters to Putin or an amateur TikTok tutorial on How to Smuggle Missiles."
The French embassy, never missing a chance for a sly jab, reportedly sent over an anonymous bottle of Champagne labeled: "In case of next emergency: pop this, not a bomb squad."
And at the Indian High Commission, known for its careful balance between humour and intrigue, whispers suggested that perhaps the real panic stemmed from the Russians discovering — to their horror — that the laptop contained nothing but a Sri Lankan chicken curry recipe.
After all, in Colombo’s diplomatic circles, some crimes are simply unforgivable.
In the end, today's incident at the Russian Embassy in Colombo may amount to little more than a bizarre anecdote for visiting dignitaries to chuckle over at future receptions. But it offers a revealing glimpse into the world of modern diplomacy — a realm where paranoia, political intrigue, and the occasional abandoned laptop can still set entire embassies on edge.
As Colombo settled back into its humid, bustling routine, a final question remained unanswered:
If Nasheed really wanted to frighten the Russians, why stop at a laptop? Surely a poorly translated TikTok video involving missile chips and Maldivian coconuts would have been infinitely more terrifying.
Or at least, far more entertaining.
-By LeN Diplomatic Correspondent
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by (2025-04-28 18:45:38)
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