Priya wondered what Siva would look like with his frontal-lobe puff of hair all messed up. The puff looked difficult to achieve—it had elevation, uniformity of direction and considerable shine. The third time they met, they were allowed to go to the Galle Face Hotel for ice cream, accompanied by Dhara, Kamini mami and Nandan. Priya took the opportunity to study his hair and noticed that it didn’t move in the wind when they walked on the Green. The conversation was stilted but pleasant.

•

Priya cried as she carried Dhara’s belongings with her back to Dhara’s room. They didn’t know how to separate their things: clothes, books, study notes, make-up and trinkets. They were theirs, not one or the other’s.

CHAPTER 8

Colombo, 1971

Rajan sat down on the divan slowly. He was fifty years old. He felt like an old man. He pulled his trousers up as he leaned down to undo his shoelaces. He never kicked his shoes off like Nandan. He undid the laces first, loosened the bridge of the shoe and slipped his foot out. First the right foot, then the left; never the other way around.

•

For the first time in their marriage, Rajan refused to make a decision. There was only one path in front of them and Nala took it. She sent Priya to London on the scholarship and offered no explanation to Dhara. She knew no explanation would be adequate, and Dhara said no explanation was necessary.

•

Nala had stopped going out. She sent Ayah alone to do her errands. She used to enjoy going to the market at Kollupitiya. She went every week, often with Kamini, who considered herself an expert at bargaining with the stall holders. Ayah or her driver Kannan would always accompany them, so she didn’t have to carry anything except her small purse and her list for the week.

•

The state of emergency should have ended but it continued indefinitely. Nala thought she would get used to army checkpoints and soldiers laughing in the streets, with guns slung as casually over their shoulders as the cigarettes that hung from their mouths. She thought she might stop noticing it, but she didn’t.

•

It was the first morning tea Nala had attended in a while. Rita Matthews had made her go.

Nala was very worried now. Rita’s preamble was getting longer, and although she too enjoyed the art of good storytelling, it was time for Rita to get to the point.

‘Listen, Nala, I’m only telling you this because you are one of my dearest friends and I think you would want to know. If it were my family I would want to know,’ Rita said. ‘Dennis and I have nothing but the highest regard for you. I’ve known you for such a long time and these people have only recently married into your family. I feel a responsibility to tell you.’

‘Rita, what has happened? Just tell me.’