-By Diplomatic Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -17.April.2025, 10.50 PM) It began, as most diplomatic dramas do in the modern age, not with a missile or a press conference—but with a tweet.
A certain “Hassan Kurusee,” an energetic Moldavian Twitter personality (whose passport status remains as mysterious as his motives), fired off a thread that would, in typical Twitter fashion, spiral into geopolitical fireworks. The allegation? That Russia—yes, Russia, the country currently doing gymnastics to evade sanctions tighter than a Russian gymnast's leotard—was smuggling microchips through Velana International Airport in Malé, Maldives.
The tweet might have floated into the digital abyss unnoticed—yet another spicy conspiracy theory in a sea of digital noise. But no. This time, the tweet hit harder than an unsolicited polonium-laced cup of tea.
Let’s first examine the kernel of the claim. According to Kursi, Russia is using Maldives as a transit hub to move restricted microchips—technology they can no longer directly access due to U.S. and EU sanctions. The logic is as follows: Russians fly to Maldives (which they do—75,000 of them just last year), suitcases are easy to fill, and customs in Malé are more focused on snorkels and sarongs than semiconductor smuggling.
Admittedly, it’s a creative theory.
Velana International Airport has been many things—overpriced, chaotic, oddly charming. But a secret node in the Kremlin’s microchip supply chain? Now that’s a plot twist worthy of a Netflix docuseries. And just as the world began raising its eyebrows, something even more extraordinary happened: the Russian Ambassador in Sri Lanka chimed in.
In an uncharacteristic move for someone trained in the icy elegance of the Russian diplomatic corps, the Russian Ambassador in Colombo decided not to ignore the tweet. Instead, he did something bolder—he exposed the identity of Hassan Kursi.
No, it wasn’t a Moldavian electronics dealer.
No, it wasn’t an exiled Ukrainian oligarch with a chip fetish.
It was, allegedly, Mohamed Nasheed—former President of the Maldives, famed climate advocate, exiled dissident, and, now, apparently, part-time Twitter troll.
Yes. Mohamed “Sun Tan and Solar Panels” Nasheed, the man who once charmed the West with his speeches at climate conferences, was outed as the shadow behind a handle peddling accusations that could very well place him on Vladimir Putin’s “To Do” list—somewhere between “secure warm-water port” and “design next year’s shirtless horseback photo op.”
The plot thickens. For those unfamiliar with Maldivian politics—and who can blame you—it’s worth noting that Nasheed has a deep Colombo past. He once sought political refuge in Sri Lanka when he was hounded by the Maumoon regime. Back then, he was a loud, sandal-wearing activist crashing Sri Lankan cafés and borrowing Wi-Fi from suspiciously friendly businessmen.
Among them, as legend goes, was a certain Sanjay Gardner—a shadowy benefactor known in Colombo’s expat circles for funding both political dissidents and cricket tournaments, sometimes in the same afternoon. It was here, on the gentle sidewalks of Nugegoda, that Nasheed allegedly began to build his network.
And now? Now the man who once dined with climate czars and UN bigwigs is, per the Russian ambassador, sipping espresso behind a burner Twitter account named after a wooden chair. “Hassan Kursi”—kursi meaning chair in both Divehi and several South Asian tongues—has become the hottest diplomatic chair in the Indian Ocean.
Let’s step back. Why would Russia care? Isn’t this all a bit... theatrical?
Actually, microchips are no laughing matter. The semiconductor shortage caused by sanctions has affected Russia’s military, aviation, and automotive industries. While the world focuses on tanks and oil, Russia’s ability to produce basic electronics has been paralyzed. That makes any accusation of chip smuggling through a third country—not just provocative, but potentially an act of economic sabotage.
By publicly outing Nasheed, the Russian ambassador didn’t just rebut a tweet. He sent a message: “We see you. We know who you are. And we don’t forget.” A subtle yet chilling signal from a country whose track record with dissidents includes poisoned underwear, mysterious falls from balconies, and radioactive beverages.
One might say Nasheed has just been placed in the diplomatic danger zone—alongside Navalny, Litvinenko, and every other unfortunate who underestimated the Russian capacity for vengeance.
Naturally, speculation exploded. WhatsApp groups in Colombo, Malé, and Moscow buzzed with theories: Would Nasheed be invited for a mysterious cup of Russian black tea laced with something slightly more exotic than bergamot? Would he be lured onto a luxury yacht and given the “fall overboard” treatment?
It doesn’t help that Putin has a famously long memory, and even longer reach.
To make matters worse, Nasheed hasn’t exactly been keeping a low profile. He’s estranged from his wife, spending suspicious amounts of time in European capitals, and—according to diplomatic whispers—has a fondness for youthful male company, which has raised more than a few eyebrows in conservative corners of Maldivian politics.
(We won’t go into details. Let’s just say Malé is a small town. And gossip floats faster than sea planes.)
And then there’s Ranil Wickremesinghe, President of Sri Lanka and Nasheed’s long-time political comrade. Ranil, an elder statesman of Commonwealth gossip circles, is known to host dinners where the wine flows freely and the secrets even more so.
Nasheed and Ranil go way back—to the days when Colombo was Nasheed’s de facto exile HQ. It’s no secret that Ranil offered Nasheed more than just refuge; there were consultations, fundraising channels, and even political strategy meetings held under the ceiling fans of Cinnamon Gardens’ finest homes.
Now, with the Russian ambassador pointing fingers and suggesting retaliation, one wonders: Will Ranil protect his old friend? Or will he quietly suggest Nasheed take a sabbatical in a country slightly further from the Kremlin’s reach?
Maybe Fiji.
Meanwhile, the Maldivian government is silent. Deafeningly so.
The current President, busy balancing Indian, Chinese, and Arab influences, wants no part in a geopolitical bar fight between Moscow and an ex-president moonlighting as a Twitter personality. The last thing Maldives needs—other than another sea-level warning—is to be dragged into a Cold War redux.
But their silence speaks volumes. Nobody has denied the Russian claim. No one has publicly defended Nasheed. Not the ruling party. Not the opposition. Not even the Foreign Ministry.
It’s as if the whole country collectively held its breath—and hoped the Russians would forget.
Spoiler: They won’t.
This entire episode reveals a strange new world of “diplotainment”—where presidents troll on Twitter, ambassadors unmask anonymous accounts, and global crises revolve around tweets about semiconductors.
It also shows the limits of anonymity in the digital age. Once upon a time, you could be an ex-leader hiding in exile, tweeting under a pseudonym, sipping cappuccinos in Europe. Now, thanks to metadata, embassy surveillance, and that nosy Russian intern who once worked at a telecom company, your digital mask gets ripped off faster than a Bond villain’s latex disguise.
So what now for Nasheed—alias Hassan Kursi?
Will he issue a denial? Apologize to the Kremlin? Claim his account was hacked by a rogue intern in Pristina? Or will he simply vanish into the European diplomatic ether, pretending the whole thing was a dream?
And what about the Maldives? Will Velana International Airport be scanned for secret chip compartments in Russian suitcases? Will customs officers suddenly receive training in semiconductor identification?
Unlikely.
What’s more likely is this: Russia will never forget.
And as history tells us—when Russia never forgets, people suddenly do.
Forget to log into their Twitter account.
Forget to open hotel room windows.
Forget to check for radioactive isotopes in their tea.
In a world where information is power and tweets can trigger international fallout, perhaps the biggest lesson is this:
Don’t troll a nuclear power.
Especially not one with access to your real IP address.
-By Diplomatic Correspondent
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by (2025-04-17 17:22:29)
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