‘Aaaarchiii! What did you do that for?’ Mohan shouted as he stumbled out from under the rocking chair, coughing and laughing.

‘Found you!’ Nala cried with malicious delight. Archi’s kusus were legendary.

‘That’s not fair,’ he replied, breathing the humid, clean air deeply. ‘It doesn’t count.’

He sat himself next to her and she began to show off her battle scars.

‘Mine are definitely better than yours.’ She pointed to her left calf. ‘See how these bites merge into each other, making one big bumpy line. It looks like the Himalayas.’

Mohan usually laughed at her jokes, even when they weren’t funny. But he wasn’t listening to her; he was concentrating on the raised voices coming from inside the house. Appa and Mohan’s father, Nirmalan mama, were arguing again, although they weren’t angry at each other yet.

‘What was he thinking, thambi?’ Nirmalan mama asked Nala’s father. ‘Was GG Ponnambalam even thinking when he made that speech?’

She moved closer to the door and crouched next to Mohan. Everyone was talking about GG Ponnambalam, the leader of the All Ceylon Tamil Congress. He had made a speech, and afterwards Sinhalese people had rioted, attacking Tamils.

Her uncle didn’t give Appa time to answer. He continued, ‘The Buddhists say the Mahavamsa gives them a historical claim to the country—it is their history of the Sinhalese kings of Ceylon. GG Ponnambalam went to Navalapitiya, into the heartland of the old Sinhalese kingdom, and told them that most of the Sinhalese kings mentioned in their sacred chronicle were actually Tamil. What did he think was going to happen when he said that?’ Nirmalan mama was angry now. ‘He was stirring up trouble and other people paid the price for it.’

‘He wasn’t stirring up trouble,’ Appa replied. ‘Trouble is already upon us. If the Buddhist monks and politicians want to use the Mahavamsa to take sole ownership of this country, then we have a right to challenge the chronicle and them. We should talk about our ancient Tamil kingdom and the richness of Hinduism. We should tell them that the Sinhalese and Tamils lived together peacefully for centuries. We should put forward our side of history.’

‘History, exactly!’ Nirmalan mama laughed even though her father hadn’t told a joke. ‘It’s just history, thambi. It doesn’t matter who arrived first or which kings fought with each other. That is the past and what matters now is the future.’

‘You should tell that to the bhikkus and the politicians,’ Appa said quietly. The children had to move right up to the door to listen. Archi wouldn’t normally allow them to eavesdrop, but she too was listening. She looked sad.