If April has a flavor in Sri Lanka this year, it’s bitter. Not just the economy — the air itself feels tight, as if the island is holding its breath. And honestly, who can blame it?
Inflation has gone from an economic term to an everyday monster. This isn't a matter of charts anymore — it's rice, milk powder, gas. It’s choosing between cooking fuel or school shoes. It's watching the price of your breakfast double while your paycheck stays exactly the same.
📈 60% Inflation — On Paper
But the paper doesn’t capture the panic. What does “60% inflation” even mean to the mother who now needs a loan to buy onions? Or the student who skips lunch because bus fare ate their food budget? What does it mean to a child whose meals just got cut in half?
The truth is, numbers are cold — and this crisis is not.
🍚 Food Inflation: The Cruelest Slice
Sri Lanka now holds one of the highest food inflation rates in the world. In this country, where meals are sacred, shared, spiced with tradition — they’re now rationed by cost. Families skip meat, then eggs, then milk. Then meals.
And here's the kicker: This isn't about scarcity. The food exists — it’s just unreachable. That’s what inflation does. It puts things in front of you and dares you to try and afford them.
📉 Poverty Has Doubled
In just months, decades of development have unraveled. The middle class is shrinking fast. People who once managed are now skipping essentials. People who once struggled are now surviving day to day.
You can feel the dignity eroding. Pride doesn’t stand a chance when you’re choosing between medicine and a meal.
🧭 What Comes Next?
Protests are growing. Resignations are being demanded. The IMF has been summoned like a lifeboat in a typhoon. But none of this changes the price of bread tomorrow morning.
So, what do we do?
We listen. We amplify. We remember that crises like this aren’t just macroeconomic events — they’re deeply human. They hit homes, hearts, dinner plates.
And if you're reading this from a place of stability: don't just scroll past. Don’t reduce someone’s lived suffering to a line in a finance newsletter. This is real. This is now. And this is why voices matter.
Sri Lanka is burning — not from fire, but from pressure.
From families crushed under costs they didn’t create. From a system that didn’t blink until it broke.
Let this be a wake-up call. Not just for governments. For us all.
— Noah
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