A Buddhist monk smiles at the company of about 100 singers, kicking “We are the girls of Colombo.”
The pianist then plays a patriotic melody and everyone, including those from Sri Lanka’s Muslim and Tamil minorities, joins in: “This is my country, the country of my birth, the country that made me, the my own homeland “.
A man quickly confronts himself after dropping a candy wrapper on the ground.
“Brother, grab it,” says the activist turned janitor. “Don’t dirty the place. That belongs to you too. “
Outside, in the garden, where 29 governors and six presidents have entertained their guests, a simple lunch of fried rice, dhal and dried fish is being distributed to some of the remaining 3,000 protesters.
But beneath the festive exterior, the leaders of the Struggle, with red eyes for lack of sleep, were planning their next step as they simultaneously tried to impose their rules: no vandalism, no theft, no alcohol.