“People wanted blood revenge against the Muslims after the Easter bombings, and the new government was elected on that veiled promise. The Buddhist Power Army has been terrorizing Muslims here for years on a small scale, but lately have gotten emboldened. The government is happy to look the other way. The Muslims here live in fear.”

Tusker looked around. Pasikudah seemed like a peaceful enough town and he still had a hard time imagining Buddhist monks throwing Molotov cocktails. The curry was delicious but hard work. His fingers burned from cracking the chillie-infused shells and he was sweating profusely. Sam paid no notice. Other customers stared at Tusker though. When he made eye contact, they would smile and nod.

They exited the cafe and started back towards Ahmed’s shop. Tusker paused to peer into shops at the odds and ends for sale: a plastic jar full of broken wristwatches, rubber slippers, hair oil, wedding dresses, hijabs. As if to put a point on Sam’s lunch explanation, he heard a voice coming through a speaker. They both turned to see a Toyota pickup truck with its windscreen ringed with white flowers drive slowly up the main road followed by two lines of Buddhist monks in robes. Behind them, a small crowd of men followed them, some carrying signs written in Sinhala. A man standing in the bed of the pickup was saying something into a megaphone and people on the sides of the road stopped and watched. Although Tusker couldn’t understand what was being said, he sensed a tension in the air.

“Speak of the Devil,” Sam said to him quietly. One of the signs being carried had a photograph of a monk with a large smooth head and no eyebrows. “That’s Dhammasara, the current head of the BBH movement. He’s based in Kandy and is almost never seen, but his followers hold these rallies all over the country. It’s a sort of warning to the Muslims that they’re everywhere.”

Tusker nodded, “Charming.”

The procession turned left at the roundabout and gradually moved out of sight. Tusker and Sam walked down the lane towards Majeed Motor Repairs. The sun had started to slide down in the west. They had a long drive ahead of them to Trincomalee. In front of the shop, Ahmed was wiping his hands with a rag. He grinned benevolently and handed the keys to Sam.

“Good timing. All finished.” He thumbed towards the Land Rover. “The diff was full of twisted metal. Got a new one in there now. Well, new to you. It came out of this old one I’m rebuilding but should be good for another few years, as long as you keep fresh oil in it.” He wagged his finger at Sam. “Also, fresh fluids all around, but I didn’t have time to check your swivels. Keep an eye on those and bring it back soon.”