Funny Boy (31 page)

There was a smattering of applause as Black Tie came down the steps. I watched him as he took his seat. He looked tired and defeated.

I waited until the distribution of prizes began, and then, taking advantage of the movement of boys coming on and off the stage, I left the auditorium. I hurried down a corridor and up a set of stairs that led to the gallery. Shehan had seen me leave and he was waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

“What happened?” he called out even before I was halfway up.

I didn’t answer. Instead I bounded up the last few steps and then took his arm. I led him along the gallery and into a deserted classroom. I was panting now from climbing the stairs too fast. He looked at me searchingly as I recovered my breath.

“You know those poems perfectly. How could you mix them up like that?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, “I know them.”

Then I began to tell him everything that Mr. Sunderalingam had told me about the importance of the poems to Black Tie’s speech. As I spoke, his eyes widened in understanding.

“What made you do it?” he said to me almost in a whisper.

I didn’t reply. Instead, I crossed to the window and looked out at the quadrangle below. As I gazed down at it, I recalled my first day at the Victoria Academy and how I had been so terrified of the older boys who were playing a game of rugger. That person seemed quite different to the one standing here. Even though barely two months had passed since that day, it seemed a long time ago. I turned away from the window. Shehan was waiting for a reply to his question.

“I did it for you,” I said. “I couldn’t bear to see you suffer any more.”

There was a look of surprise on his face, then understanding. He moved to me and I put my arms around him. From the auditorium below I could hear students’ names being called out and clapping, but this seemed a distant reality compared to the rhythm of Shehan’s breath against my neck and the warmth of his back under my fingers.

After a while, I became aware that the clapping had ended, and we heard a stirring of chairs as people stood up for the school song. Shehan and I moved away from each other with a sigh. We both knew that it was time to go down and face whatever had to be faced.

When we came out of the classroom, the school song had started. I walked to the gallery and stood there, looking down at the audience. My eyes came to rest on my parents. As I gazed at Amma, I felt a sudden sadness. What had happened between Shehan and me over the last few days had changed my relationship with her forever. I was no longer a part of my family in the
same way. I now inhabited a world they didn’t understand and into which they couldn’t follow me.

Shehan was standing by the classroom door, waiting for me. The school song had ended now, and the audience was beginning to disperse. We stood for a moment, each lost in his own thoughts, then we began to walk together towards the stairs that led down to the auditorium.

July 25, 1983

6:00
A.M.
Two hours ago the phone rang in the hall, waking us all. At first I thought that I was dreaming, but then I heard Amma’s and Appa’s door open and I knew that I was awake. By the time I got to my door, Sonali, Diggy, and Neliya Aunty had already come out into the hall. Appa was on the phone and, from the expression on his face, we knew that something had happened. Finally he put the phone down. “That was Mala,” he said. Then he told us that there was trouble in Colombo. All the Tamil houses near the Kanaththa Cemetery had been burnt. We stared at him, unable to believe what he was saying. “Why?” Amma asked. Appa explained that it was because of the thirteen soldiers who were killed by the Tigers two days ago. The funeral was held last night and the mob at the cemetery went on a rampage. Appa tried to dismiss the whole thing.

He told us to go to bed, that it was only a rumour, that there was probably some gang fight in a slum around Kanaththa which people were calling a communal riot. But I haven’t been able to sleep. I have tried to read, but that is impossible, too. The only thing for me to do is write.

From the dining room, I can hear the murmur of Neliya Aunty’s and Amma’s voices and the clatter of plates and spoons. It is their attempt to provide some normalcy to the day. Yet all it does, this everyday sound, is make me realize how frighteningly different this day has been so far.

9:30
A.M.
Sena Uncle and Chithra Aunty came to visit an hour ago. The moment we saw their faces we knew that the situation was serious. Amma invited them to have breakfast with us. They had been to the area around Kanaththa. The rumours are true. All the Tamil houses there are burnt, and the trouble has begun to spread to other parts of Colombo as well. Chithra Aunty started to say something more, but Sena Uncle stopped her and nodded towards us children. She became silent. After breakfast, my parents, Neliya Aunty, Sena Uncle, and Chithra Aunty went into Appa’s study and closed the door behind them. Diggy, Sonali, and I crowded around the door, trying to hear what was happening, but they were speaking very softly. Sena Uncle said something and Amma drew in her breath. “No,” she said. “No. That can’t be.” Chithra Aunty said, “Shhh,” and they spoke quietly again. When they came out, Amma and Neliya Aunty looked frightened.

Once Chithra Aunty and Sena Uncle had left, Amma called us into the dining room. “We’re going to spend a few days at Chithra Aunty and Sena Uncle’s house,” she said.

This was not something we had expected. “Why, Amma?” Sonali asked. “Never mind why,” Amma said. But then she felt a little sorry, for she said, “Don’t worry, it’s just a precaution. It’s safer this way.” Yet we knew she was lying. The situation must be very bad, for she has sent Anula away to stay with her aunt.

Amma said that we can only take a knapsack, otherwise it would look suspicious. We are supposed to bring a few clothes and one other thing that is important to us. I can’t decide which thing to take. I have asked the others what they are taking. Diggy says he’s not taking anything, but I noticed that some of his Willard Price books are gone. Amma is taking all the family albums. She says that if anything happens they will remind us of happier days. The picture of my grandparents is missing from Neliya Aunty’s dressing table, and Sonali is taking two of her dolls, even though she doesn’t play with dolls any more. We are not using our own car because it is too small for all of us. Sena Uncle is going to return with his van.

Amma and Appa have phoned the other aunts and uncles. So far, they are okay. Ammachi and Appachi’s area is particularly bad. Some of their neighbours have offered to hide them in their house if anything happens.

The radio news is beginning again. We have listened to the broadcasts at 6:00, 7:30, and 8:45, but there is still no mention of the trouble. If not for the phone call and Sena Uncle and Chithra Aunty’s visit, we would think that nothing was going
on in Colombo. After the last broadcast, Appa looked at Amma significantly and said, “No curfew.” From the way he said it, I assume that this has something to do with what Sena Uncle told him.

11:00
A.M.
I have learned what Sena Uncle and Chithra Aunty told my parents. But I wish I had not found out.

I was in the garden trying to read when I heard the sound of Amma’s and Appa’s voices. Although I couldn’t make out the words, just from the tone of Amma’s voice I could tell that it was important. So I went and stood under the study window. “How can the government be doing this?” Amma was saying bitterly. “After all, we Tamils helped vote them in.”

“We’re not one hundred per cent sure that they are behind the rioting,” my father said.

“Of course they are. If not, why aren’t they declaring curfew, and why aren’t the police and army stopping the mobs?”

My father didn’t respond.

“It has been planned in advance. Otherwise, how could the mobs get electoral lists so quickly?”

After that, both my parents were silent.

At first I didn’t comprehend the reason for the electoral lists, but now I have thought about it and I understand. Since the mobs have electoral lists, they know which houses are Tamil and which houses aren’t. This means that we have no chance of escaping if the mob comes down our road. And if they do, there will be no police to stop them.

12:30
P.M.
The phones are dead, and for the first time I’m really frightened. Where is Sena Uncle? The van should have been here an hour ago. Has something happened to him?

1:00
P.M.
The government has now declared curfew. Anyone caught on the road without a curfew pass will be shot on sight. I am so relieved because this must mean that the government is not behind the rioting and that Sena Uncle and Chithra Aunty’s story was wrong. After the announcement I could see the relief on my parents’ faces too.

Of course this means that Sena Uncle won’t be able to pick us up. Appa says that it is all right. He didn’t really want to leave the house in the first place, and, since the government has declared curfew, the situation will soon be under control. Amma didn’t agree. She said she would prefer to go to Chithra Aunty’s house for the night.

3:00
P.M.
The announcement of the curfew has not stopped the riots, and in fact the fighting has got worse. We have finally learned why Sena Uncle did not come for us.

About an hour ago we heard a bicycle bell outside. Then someone banged on our gate. The sound was so loud in the stillness that all the neighbourhood dogs began to bark. Appa cautioned us to stay in the dining room. He went quietly down the hall and looked out through the drawing-room window. Then he signalled to us that it was all right. When we came to the gate, Appa was already outside talking to a man on a
bicycle. He was a clerk from Appa’s office. When he saw us, he stopped talking and looked at Appa, as if uncertain whether he should continue. Appa waved his hand and said, “They might as well know.” I noticed that some of the other neighbours were watching from behind their gates. Appa turned to us and said, “Sena sent him. He had to abandon the van on Galle Road because some thugs stole all the petrol from it.” Amma asked what they would want the petrol for, and Appa told the clerk to tell his story again.

Now Perera Aunty and Uncle, our next-door neighbours, came out of their gate and joined us. The clerk began to repeat his story. He told us that once he’d heard about the riots, he’d left the office. As he cycled towards Galle Road he saw that all the Tamil shops had been set on fire and the mobs were looting everything. The police and army just stood by, watching, and some of them even cheered the mobs and joined in the looting and burning. When he had finally made it to Galle Road, it was crowded with traffic going in all directions. Some motorists had abandoned their cars in the middle of the road and started to make the rest of the journey on foot. The pavements were no better, he said. They were packed with people hurrying home from work. Then, not far in the distance, he had heard a sound like a gunshot. Now the pedestrians began to scatter. When the pavement had cleared he had seen a terrible sight. There was a car in the middle of the road with a family inside it. The car was surrounded by thugs, and near it he saw Sena Uncle’s van. The thugs were syphoning petrol out of it and pouring the petrol on the car. Sena Uncle stood by, watching helplessly. The clerk called out to him, and he saw him and
came to the pavement. That was when Sena Uncle had asked him to take the message to us. Before he left, the clerk had taken one last look at the car. Even from where he stood, he could smell petrol. The family in the car were simply staring out at the thugs as if they didn’t realize what was going on. Now one of the thugs began to ask around for a match. At this point the clerk had left. He had got on his bicycle and ridden away as fast as he could.

Ever since I heard this story, I have not been able to stop thinking about that family in the car. I thought I would go into the garden and sit on the swing for a little, but when I got there I didn’t feel like it. Amma, Neliya Aunty, and Sonali were in the garden, tending to the rose bushes and anthuriums. I could tell that they, too, were trying not to think about what the clerk had said. Neliya Aunty says that there is nothing to do now but to trust in God and pray that we will be saved. Amma says that the best thing is to keep busy and hope for the best. But how can we hope for the best after hearing such a story?

Appa is in his study, reading the newspaper and waiting for the next news bulletin. Diggy is doing his exercises, and I can hear the sound of the dumbbells every time he puts them down on the ground.

6:45
P.M.
A little while ago, Amma and Appa asked us children to come into the dining room. Appa looked stern and serious, Amma was very gentle. She explained to us that we have to be prepared if the mob comes. She and Appa have worked out an escape plan. She asked us to follow her onto the back verandah.

In the back garden, I saw that our ladder has been placed against the side wall. If the mob comes, we are to climb up the ladder and jump over the wall into the Pereras’ back garden. Perera Aunty and Perera Uncle will hide us in their storeroom. Even though Appa didn’t think it was necessary, Amma made each of us go up the ladder so that we could get a feel for it. When I reached the top of the ladder, I saw that Perera Aunty and Uncle were watching us from the other side. Throughout the whole exercise, Amma kept saying that we were only doing this in case the mob came and that it was all a big “if.” Yet I know that this is not so. I noticed that Amma has removed her thali and gold bangles. She must have sent them next door with her jewellery box. Appa also sent our birth certificates and bankbooks. They know that there is going to be trouble. Like me, they are certain that the mob will come. It’s only a question of when.

11:30
P.M.
This waiting is terrible. I wish the mob would come so that this dreadful waiting would end. No, I don’t wish that. It is the last thing I want. Yet I know it’s going to happen. There is no doubt in my mind. So wouldn’t it be better if it happened sooner rather than later? Then we would be put out of this misery.