That night, she stayed up until midnight. From her balcony she could see the street cats jump up onto the brick wall between Rajan’s house and the Fonsekas’. They walked like ballerinas in the moonlight, placing their feet carefully between the shards of broken glass that had been cemented to the rim for protection. The cats and London were awake.

‘Amma wants you to go home and have a proper Hindu wedding.’

‘I know. How is she?’ Smrithi asked.

‘She’s fulfilling her cultural stereotype. How are you?’ Dhara asked.

‘I’m not fulfilling mine, I guess.’

‘Yes, I can see that.’

‘I thought perhaps we could come to Sri Lanka, mami. We could stay with you in Colombo. There’s a human rights organisation, the Centre for Social & Political Research. They’ve been helping me with my thesis. They’ve offered me an internship,’ Smrithi said.

She had read Smrithi’s draft thesis: Religious revivalism and the construction of the ‘Other’. It wasn’t finished yet but it was excellent. It used Sri Lankan politics as a case study for global lessons in nation building.

‘No,’ Dhara replied. She knew the centre well. Not so long ago, the Tigers assassinated its director. He was a moderate Tamil.

‘What?’

‘No, Smrithi. Absolutely not,’ she spoke more harshly than she had intended. Fear had its own tone.

‘Why, mami? It would be wonderful. I could help you with your work. I’ve been fundraising for you at uni, everyone thinks your medical projects are great.’

Dhara didn’t say anything.

‘Mami, I miss you,’ Smrithi tried again. She sounded like she was going to cry.

Dhara wanted to cry too. ‘It’s dangerous, mahal,’ she replied finally. ‘The fighting is getting worse. The Tigers have re-claimed the Vanni region and they’re heading towards Jaffna. There are hundreds of thousands of Tamils displaced and living in refugee camps. You don’t want to see that, Smrithi. I won’t let you.’

‘I will stay in Colombo, with you.’

‘Even Colombo is dangerous, mahal. The police are on high alert for suicide attacks and there are army checkpoints around the city. They have unlimited power to arrest and detain people. This is not a place for a young girl.’

‘But—’

‘No. No “buts”. I can’t protect you here, do you understand? Amma will never allow it, and neither will I.’

She felt her chest tighten with panic. She had tried so hard for so long to keep Smrithi away from Sri Lanka—away from the Tigers who stole and seduced the young; and the soldiers who—she stopped herself. She must breathe. She closed her eyes and allowed the sunlight into the shadows of the Dutch Fort. It warmed the cold metal and cement of that room. It held her in its embrace. It was the same sun that watched over her daughter.

She must breathe.