‘The Chinese are hypocrites! Look at them with their Marxist morality and the atrocities they’ve committed in Tibet. Those people deserve to be free,’ he raged passionately. ‘They were meant to be an independent country, they are their own people.’ The audience murmured its agreement. ‘The Chinese talk about equality—empty rhetoric, empty rhetoric. The people of Tibet have not been equal; they are second-class citizens in a country they didn’t want to belong to. It’s an outrage’—people tried to applaud but he continued, cutting them off as he approached the climax—‘and it is a shame on all of us that the world has watched for so long, without intervening to protect those poor people.’

Rajan wanted to turn away, but Kotelawala was hypnotic. He didn’t care about the machinations of Colombo politicians or Sinhala nobility. Ceylon’s politics were dominated by the same class that had probably ruled it in ancient times. Power didn’t change hands in their little democracy, it just got passed down the generations. Rajan was more interested in how it affected the price of rice and sugar and whether their island would get drawn into foreign wars again. It wasn’t just spices that made them a valuable piece of the former empire; it was their position at the tip of India.

Kotelawala took a breath and motioned to the audience who were still poised to applaud. He was nodding his thanks to the appreciative crowd, deflecting their compliments and shushing their praise with a pained but proud smile, when Myrtle Jansz Vanderstraaten returned from the toilet, giddy with excitement. She sat down and huddled with Nala and the ladies, who all stared at the sweeping staircase leading up to the bathroom, in wonder. One by one they all casually went to the toilet—as casually as ten ladies dressed in their finest saris and dresses could.

The former Prime Minister moved on from Tibet’s right to self-determination. Inevitably, he was talking about Bandaranaike’s failed language negotiations with the Tamils. Prime Minister Bandaranaike hadn’t been as committed to the hard line of his Sinhala Only language policy after he defeated Kotelawala with it.

‘I can’t believe I’m saying this—and no one tell my Senanayake cousins I said it—but Bandaranaike was right. He should have compromised and allowed the Tamils their regional councils. They could have used their language in their provinces. I have many fine Tamil friends whom I’m sure would agree with me,’ Kotelawala said, searching the crowd for Rajan’s face and smiling at him. Rajan nodded and smiled tightly back.

He found himself agreeing with Kotelawala for the first time that night—the bhikkus held too much power in Ceylon. They had sabotaged Bandaranaike’s attempted compromise.