Help us, not them.

‘Will the Tigers listen? Do you think they will put down their arms this time?’ she asked. The government maintained that the Tigers didn’t want negotiations to succeed, although the same could be said for the government. The war had its benefits for both sides, and while no side continued to win, the Tamil people continued to lose.

‘Yes, the Tigers will listen,’ he said.

They all had their connections, but she didn’t want to talk to hers anymore.

She wanted to feel faith; she missed its reassuring, justifying whisper. But all she could think about was something Martin Luther King said. She had used the quote last month in the religion class she taught at the Wellawatte Sai Baba Centre.

‘I want to read you something. It’s from Dr King. I’ll send it to the children; they’re closet pacifists, so they’ll like it. He says: The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy … Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.’

‘The time for love has passed, Dhara. You know that,’ Siva replied.

‘Yes. But surely there is something more than all this violence, all this death?’ she tried again.

‘They will not stop until we’re all dead. You know that too.’

We—except that it’s only me that is here, she thought.

‘Thank God for the Norwegians then, I suppose,’ she said, closing the book.

He agreed, ‘Yes, thank God for the Norwegians.’

‘May I please speak to the children?’ she asked, exhausted.

‘Yes, of course, Smrithi’s waiting,’ he replied.

CHAPTER 17

Sydney, 1998

Nala stood next to her daughter, watching her closely as she cooked. She was convinced that whenever Priya gave her recipes, she omitted ingredients. She faithfully reproduced her daughter’s dishes, but they never achieved Priya’s tantalising flavours.

‘I’ve called Mr Venkatraman over tonight, Amma. He’s coming after dinner.’

‘Why do you need the astrologer? Is everything all right?’ Nala asked, worried.

‘I don’t know. It’s Vivek. He’s been acting strangely all year. I need some advice. I’m sure Saturn is affecting him badly at the moment.’

Nala cleared her throat nervously.

‘I need to tell you something.’

Priya didn’t stop cutting onions. She cut quickly and beautifully; gracefully and uniformly. She had Rajan’s hands. She was making her own seeni sambol. No one made their own seeni sambol anymore; the onion chutney was too difficult. Most people bought it in a bottle from the local spice store.

‘Vivek has found someone,’ Nala paused. ‘She’s Italian and Catholic.’

Priya stopped. She spoke, without looking at her. ‘How long have you known, Amma?’

‘Just a day,’ she lied quickly and comfortably.