NPP MPs’ dream car bubble bursts

Even before the elections, the JVP’s pet hate had been the ‘duty-free permit’ privilege accorded to all MPs.

The political rhetoric of envious hatred, lambasted from every political stage, had aroused the fury of the masses to further condemn MPs as a corrupt bunch of well-fed pussycats living luxurious lives in government houses and eating fancy five-star meals at the parliamentary cafeteria on public funds.

“When we come to power,” they blared from every stage and social media outlet, “we shall not give duty-free cars or live in government houses or eat free meals at Parliament’s canteen. We will travel as the masses do, live as the masses do, and eat as the masses do.”

And all who heard them at that hour could scarce forbear to cheer. Even JVP parliamentary hopefuls, to whom the Diyawanna oasis was still but an elusive dream, welcomed the spartan existence for all MPs and cheered louder than anyone else.

HOPES DIE HARD: The wait in vain for Dharmapriya Dissanayake

True to their word, once assuming the reins of power, the announcement came from the JVP leadership: A total ban on duty-free permits to import vehicles was placed. It was also partly due to IMF restrictions. But soon, with the new government faithfully and meticulously bearing Ranil’s IMF programme above its head like a religious offering to temple gods, and extremely cautious not to dislodge the arrangement of fruits on the platter, foreign exchange became available to import a limited stock of vehicles.

As the news was greeted heartily by a vehicle-starved market, questions arose in the hearts of all MPs: What about us? Are we denied the plums of the national cake?

The seed of desire was planted. And quickly taking root.

On January 19, the NPP’s Kurunegala District MP, Dharmapriya Dissanayake, was over the moon at the giddy prospect of getting a new vehicle for his own use.

He told the media: “We expect all MPs to receive new vehicles. To date, MPs have not been allocated any official vehicles. An agreement has been reached to provide vehicles to MPs. While the specific model has not been decided yet, the vehicles will certainly be new and are expected to arrive within the next couple of months.”

His ship of hope had sailed into harbour even before the container vessel carrying new vehicles could make Lankan waters. With plans laid, with the agreement reached, with invoices opened, with the new vehicles safely at sea, and with his government fulfilling its promises as usual, especially to its members, he could hardly contain his glee.

The seed of desire was poised to break out in bloom.

Then came the welcome announcement. Instead of duty-free vehicles, the government will provide vehicles to all MPs to attend to their official duties and development work in their electorates. After five years, they can even take it home with them after paying the net value to the government less the depreciation rate, said Minister Vijitha Herath on Ada Derana’s 360-degree programme.

The government hailed its own decision, extolling the virtuous savings it would bring. The people, it seemed, had bought the story that the despised, grotesque privilege granted to pampered fat cats in Parliament to import any fancy vehicle duty-free and ride hotshot to their electorates to impress the peasantry in V8s or Range Rovers would be at an end. For over three decades or more, ever since former President J.R. Jayewardene granted special duty-free permits to MPs, billions had been lost to Treasury coffers in lost duty in terms of duty revenues.

But the euphoric mood instantly changed when some bright spark pointed out—like the child pointing at the emperor’s new designer clothes—that the government, wallowing in self-praise, had been blind to the flip side of the coin.

The much-decried duty-free scheme had its benefits too. Though exempted from duty, the MP still had to pay the balance sum on the nail. He will thenceforth have to maintain the vehicle out of his own pocket like another private buyer. He will have to pay the insurance premiums, the annual revenue tax, pay for regular services, for its tyres, for its repairs, replace stolen side mirrors and lights, wipers, hubcaps, and bear all expenses to keep the vehicle shipshape and roadworthy.

Consider, for instance, the enormous cost to the Treasury if 225 vehicles of MPs had to be maintained at government expense. For a period of five years?

Rather than bear the burden of ensconcing all MPs in government-owned vehicles and maintaining the same in mint condition for five years, it’s far better for the government to forego duty levies and wash its hands of the whole cumbersome and expensive responsibility of playing valet to MPs, as successive governments have done in the past.

Then came the killer blow. Instead of providing vehicles to MPs as the government had announced last month, they will give none at all. If government MPs wished to inspect development projects in their electorates, they could borrow one, if necessary, from the common vehicle pool.

JVP MPs’ bud of hope nipped in its bloom. But the seed had taken deep root.

Returning from the Mrs. World pageant held in swinging Las Vegas, the gambler’s town where the wheel never stops, Paris raised Mrs. World Runner-Up, Ishadi Amanda spoke of her heartbreak night and cried buckets of tears after losing the crown to her South African roommate Viktoria Horshkova.

“I cried since I had pinned my hopes on winning, but after the initial burst of disappointment, I felt glad that, at least, my roommate and friend Viktoria had bagged the Mrs. World crown. Perhaps the judges chose her for the crown depending on her beauty and overall performance.”

“As they say in this catwalk business,” Ishadi declared, “you become a real queen when you fix each other’s crowns.” Reciprocal altruism, or you scratch my back and I’ll scrub yours, seems to be the maxim in this fashion game.

Probably the bets were on Ishadi to win that night, but, in this gambler’s paradise, fickle Lady Luck had fled to rest on Viktoria’s head instead.

Though judged second best in the beauty stakes, Ishadi made the news when a video of hers went viral in the US of A. It showed her worshipping her living God on earth, her fashion guru, Chandimal Jayasinghe, who had guided her every catwalk step and taken the Lankan French expat, oozing wig Paros chic, to world acclaim.

“If not for Chandimal and his brand,” she says, “I would be just another woman doing a daily job in France. I do not worship every Tom, Dick or Harry but I worship Chandimal because it was his brand that paved the way to my triumph. He is the one who brought out the beauty in me. And I respect and worship him in gratitude.”

She is also grateful to her parents. “Even though I was born in Sri Lanka, I was raised in France. But I haven’t forgotten the Sri Lankan culture, thanks to my parents. I have a very supportive family, and if not for them, I wouldn’t have come this far. They encouraged me to participate in beauty pageants since I was very young.”

Don’t fret and weep idle tears of disappointment or rue the night you lost the crown. Worthy qualities of the spiritual East are not gone astray on the High Street of Fashion’s Boulevard but long ingrained in you, made you more humble the higher you rise, and bring out not only thy beauty but also the woman in you.

Take a bow, Ishadi Amanda. You have done Lanka proud. Though you have lost the crown, you are, in Lanka’s eyes, the most beautiful Mrs. World.