Dhara held Smrithi tightly, the ache subsiding as she breathed in the familiar smell. She closed her eyes and cursed the tears that fell every time.

‘You’re home,’ she whispered to all of them, and to one of them, ‘you’re home.’

•

Dhara shook her head when she saw Priya’s suitcases. They were full of gifts for cousins and friends in Ceylon—blocks of Kraft cheese, Vegemite, chocolate-covered macadamias and clip-on koalas. She unpacked rapidly—emptying suitcases that would be refilled with rainbows of silk. She was eager for the sari shops of Colombo and even Madras, if she had time.

‘How are things?’ she asked.

‘Not good, Acca,’ Dhara said, refolding the pile of ‘I ♥ Australia’ t-shirts. ‘The library changed everything; it showed us our place. The army has set up more bases in the north. People are afraid. Skirmishes are happening more often. At least the Tamil Tigers are better organised and armed than they were before.’

‘Amma asked me to talk to you. She’s worried about you.’

‘She’s always worried about me.’

‘No, Dhara. She’s really worried about you. She says you’re involved with them, although she can’t work out how exactly. She says you disappear for meetings late at night.’

‘I’ve started salsa classes.’

‘This isn’t funny. They will use you.’

‘I hope so, Acca,’ Dhara turned away.

‘Look at me. Whatever the army has done; whatever they will do; these boys will match it. The Tigers are even crushing other Tamil groups—they’re killing Sinhalese and Tamils.’

‘You don’t know them, Acca—and you don’t know me,’ she said quietly, without anger.

Priya reached for her arm and turned Dhara towards her. ‘I know enough. I know your dreams and I know your nightmares. I love you and I don’t want you to die for a strip of land.’

‘It’s our homeland.’

‘And you are my home, Dhara. Think about Smrithi.’

‘I think about her all the time—every day, Acca. I think about her and what I want for her.’

‘Then tell me, what do you want for her?’ Priya challenged.

‘I want her to grow up and to grow old, and to never fear the things I fear; to never dream the terrible things I dream. I want her to be proud of me for the sacrifices I’m willing to make; and to forgive me for the sacrifices I’m not willing to make.’ Her shoulders slumped forward. ‘I want her to be safe,’ she whispered.

‘And I want you to be safe, Dhara. Move to Australia—live with us. Let go of this godforsaken place,’ Priya’s eyes filled with tears.

‘I can’t, Acca,’ she responded. She had tried.

‘I don’t accept that,’ Priya shook her head. ‘Be a mother to Smrithi, not just a mami. You could even think about marriage. You could have a husband and children and a family.’