Smrithi flicked through the script she’d written for the journalist once more. She shook her head. ‘They’re going to film in the afternoon. Apparently the light is better, but I think Finuala just needs the extra time to memorise my words.’

Prashanth laughed. ‘Don’t be mean, Smrithi, it doesn’t suit you. If you want to tell stories about Sri Lanka, then you shouldn’t front them. You’ll be recognised here and you’ll never be allowed close to the truth. There are many stories in this country—stay quiet and you’ll learn more.’

‘You sound like my Appappa. He’s the quiet and knowledgeable type. It’s the Tamil variation of strong and silent.’

‘That’s me. If you don’t have to work this morning then let’s pretend we’re tourists like Sunhat Lady over there.’ He motioned to a pale lady in an oversized woven hat.

‘The feeding has almost finished and I’ve paid for a few bottles.’ Prashanth stood up and strapped Ahalya to his back in a harness, saying, ‘Best to avoid sudden death by stampede.’ He took Smrithi’s hand and they joined the group of tourists at the elephant stalls.

One of the mahouts was collecting payment chits and handing out bottles of milk in exchange. He tucked the chits into a fold in his sarong. The baby elephants jostled each other, craning towards them with their supple trunks raised. Smrithi laughed with delight as she thrust a bottle into an eager mouth. The elephant was no taller than her chest.

‘Hold on to it hard, they’ve got a strong suck!’ she shouted at Prashanth over the sound of babies crying for more milk and attention. She gripped both hands around the bottle as the baby quickly emptied it. Prashanth exchanged his last chit for two more bottles and gave her one.

‘They’re like children!’ Prashanth shouted back. ‘That was amazing. I feel a whole new sense of sympathy for you, kunj,’ he held his own chest in mock pain.

Smrithi handed her empty bottle back to the mahout.

‘Stand back, everyone, stand back,’ the mahout said, cracking his stick on the side of the stall several times. The five babies huddled together and moved to the back, waiting. A man in a white safari suit stepped forward. He straightened his badge and cleared his throat ceremoniously.

‘Good morning, everyone, my name is Asela Jayasinghe and I will be your guide for today. I hope you enjoyed the feeding session. You are welcome to show your gratitude to our mahouts at any time. They accept all major currencies but prefer US dollars.’

The crowd laughed, some uncomfortably.

‘In half an hour we will take the elephants down Rambukkana Road to the Mal Oya River. We have seventy-seven elephants here at Pinnawela at the moment, including twelve more babies at the nursery.