As the conflict in Sri Lanka continues unabated, with the government pressing ahead with its surge against the rebels, so too do the protests in Parliament Square.

The protesters, who have been camped outside the Houses of Parliament for more than three weeks now, vow to remain until their demands – for a complete and unconditional ceasefire – are met.

One man, 28-year-old student Parameswaram Subramaniam, who has been on hunger strike for 24 days, has become a symbol of the protest, though his health has deteriorated badly in recent days.

Doctors describe his condition as “critical”, and have given him just days to live.

“He has lost a lot of weight, he was sleeping most of the time and he just said ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to everything,” said Dr Sellappah Nallanathar, an Accident and Emergency Consultant at St Peter’s Hospital in Surrey who visited Mr Subramaniam at the weekend.

“If he carries on he will end up having multiple organ failure; his kidneys will fail and his whole system will slowly go downhill.

“Nobody can force him to eat. I asked him a couple of times to take water and he did not take it, so I left him with his friends.”

Last week I went down to Parliament Square to witness first hand the protests.

When you arrive you’re greeted by scores of police, of all ranks, all on their best behaviour following the fallout from the G20 protests earlier this month. Beat bobbies lined up along the road, eye-to-eye with the protesters; PCSOs ambling down Whitehall reassuring tourists that nothing’s amiss; and eagle-eyed anti-terror cops, machine-guns in hand, surveying the scene for sings of strife.

Inside the square itself, hundreds, if not thousands, of Sri Lankans, singing, chanting, waving placards and raising the decibel level, shouting themselves hoarse to make their point heard above the din of the ambient traffic, sirens and quarter-hourly chimes up the St Stephen’s Tower of Big Ben.

And then, in the shadow of the mother of all parliaments, you come across a small tent, no bigger than a box room, in which Mr Subramaniam lives.

Under a banner reading ‘STRIKE TIL OUR DEATH’, upon a thin mattress and covered by a layer of blankets, there he lies, still, motionless, eyes closed and lost to the world, seemingly unaware of all that’s going on around him, yet determined to see it through, all the way through to the end.

One of the organisers of the protest, Bala Kanagaratnam, believes the British government haven’t done enough, demanding immediate action be taken.

“They should be using their influence and their position in the global community to get a ceasefire,” he told me.

“The British government should be doing all they can to help. They’re in the European Union, the Commonwealth, the G7 and NATO.

“They’re on the UN Security Council and they can push America to act. They’re just not doing anything.”

And that, in essence, is the crux of their demands, that the British Government at least be seen to be doing something, though quite how they can bring the conflict to an end is anyone’s guess.

Short of sending in the gunboats and re-colonialising Sri Lanka, there’s very little direct action the Government can take, as Foreign Secretary David Miliband alluded to when questioned last, stressing the need for a diplomatic and not a military solution to the conflict.

“Protests and demonstrations around the world have highlighted the tragic loss of life of innocent civilians in Sri Lanka. Further loss of life will only compound that tragedy,” he said.

“The Tamil community are a community we value and they make an important contribution to British society. They have seen friends and relatives perish and their loved ones are still at grave risk from the fighting.”

“We have heard their voice and will keep listening. We are committed to do all we can to bring this terrible conflict to an end.”

“The calls have come because of the overwhelming concern with the wellbeing of the civilians,” added the Foreign Secretary yesterday.

“Now is the time for the fighting to stop; winning the peace is as vital as winning the war.”

Fine words, but is anyone listening?

(2 votes. Average: 4.5 out of 5)