I returned the next day for the interview, only to find I was out of the stream again. An aide told me that the president had fallen ill with the flu and was now behind schedule. "No interview for you, Rubin," said the man whose voice I recognized as the one who had hung up on me half a dozen times before.

Just then, the president happened to walk by. I convinced her to squeeze me in for 10 minutes after her next event.

While I waited, I got an establishing shot of the campaign tent.

Just then, an extremely rude advisor grabbed me by the arm. "What are you doing, Rubin? What kind of story are you after here?"

I was taken to an office, where the head of security viewed the tape. He told me that I had committed a faux pas in filming the president's mansion with a guard tower visible in the shot. Under watchful eyes, I nervously erased the five-second shot of the president's house.

Unfortunately, that was the end of my chances for an interview. I pleaded my case to the press secretary, urging that the president should communicate with the outside world. He ignored me and did paperwork.

Having once spent a couple of days being interrogated in Belgrade, Serbia, by Milosevic's security forces, I'm a bit jittery when government types start giving me a hard time, and I'd seen my share on this trip. My shirt soaked through with sweat, I decided that my interview was a lost cause. It was time for me and my 50 mini-DV tapes to get out of Dodge. I headed for the airport one hour short of my visa expiration.

On the plane ride home, I wondered why anyone would have wanted to keep me from doing an interview with the president. Did I just run into an aide on a power trip? Or was it because President Kumaratunga had lost her composure during a previous BBC appearance when hit with a hard question about the government's human-rights record? There are even rumors that the president has "lost it" as a result of the 1999 attack on her life.

Personally, I think the most likely factor was the country's political atmosphere, as it teetered toward coming elections. Sri Lanka seemed on the verge of total chaos, with political intrigue and accusations flying about the place. The most likely scenario is that the current government will fall on December 5. In theory, the president will remain as a figurehead until the end of her term. But, given recent Sri Lankan history, her political and personal survival are both in question.

In the late 1980s Sinhalese politics descended into such a morass that internal dissent within Sinhalese political parties became a kind of second civil war. A nationalist, Marxist political party called the JVP led a violent insurrection. The government led a crackdown. Thousands of mostly young people disappeared. All told, 30,000 people were killed. That dark period is the subject of Michael Ondaatje's recent novel, Anil's Ghost.

I mention that period because another turbulent era in Sri Lanka seems quite possible. I didn't meet one person there who didn't think dark days were ahead. Essentially, battle lines are being drawn as I write.

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