When some camps were finally closed, tens of thousands of people had nowhere to go—no homes, no towns, no jobs and no food. They were not in imminent danger, but they were desperate; desperate enough to get on a sinking boat. The war was over, but people were still fighting to live.

Michael watched Rajan expectantly. He didn’t know where to start, so he started with the truth.

‘I’m an old man, Michael—too old to judge anymore. It’s the young who have learned judgement but not yet compassion. I am relieved our children live in a country where people can voice their disagreement, their anger, but there is no fear that that anger will lead to bloodshed.

‘In Ceylon I saw a national debate about ethnic equality deteriorate into raging mob violence and a war for nationhood. It is so much easier to inflame a debate than to truly engage in it. One of the things I like about Australia is that we have the potential to debate without demonising each other; we might even fight without war. This is a better country, Michael, and you should be proud of that. I am.’ Rajan suddenly felt breathless. Nala’s vine leaves were poised in mid-air.

Michael nodded in agreement and challenged him further. ‘But don’t you think boarding a boat, knowing it is illegal, knowing it forces the hand of Australia, is wrong?’

When Rajan was a young doctor, he used to be good at solving problems. He was tired now. He needed to rest. He didn’t separate the world into right and wrong anymore; for him there was just the memory of the past and the moment of the present.

‘Michael, thirty years ago, when a mob tore through Colombo, it was our Sinhalese neighbours who helped us. People threw their children over burning walls to seek protection. Neighbours opened their doors and offered shelter. Australia is a neighbour and they helped us too. It isn’t illegal to seek protection. It is illegal and inhumane to deny it.’

He paused and pushed at the vine-leaf roll on his plate. ‘Some of these people who come now—they’re not trying to subvert the legal process here. They are desperately trying to live a better life, in a better country. I’m not saying we should let them all in, I understand that we have to prioritise. I am saying that we don’t know the traumas of their past or the hopelessness of their future.’

Rajan’s mind felt clearer than it had for a long time; lighter, but peacefully drained of words.

Michael looked at him kindly and said, ‘I’m an old man too, Rajan. There is no good solution, only degrees of difficult solutions.’

‘I agree,’ Rajan said sadly. ‘The difference between each degree is the respect we show these refugees; and the dignity we allow them.’