It was one of the dark days of June 1956. I was lying in an easy chair in my verandah thinking......thinking about the fate of the hundreds of Tamils who had been robbed of their possessions and hounded like dogs from Colombo, Gal Oya and many other places, where some had been even born and bred. I thought of the many shops that had been looted and even razed to the ground by fire; of the families that had lost their bread-winners; of the men who had lost their jobs and saw no means of earning a living, even in their home towns..........
Soft footsteps behind me disturbed the train of my thoughts, I turned... ...and went cold with fright. No... it was'nt [sic] a ghost...... it was a living ghost......the living ghost of a once beautiful girl. She was clad in a saree that had seen better days. Big black eyes stared from a white bony face. There were no tears in her eyes but I could see that they reflected some immeasurable grief. I don't know why, but I was frightened. I tried to call for my mother but no sound came from my dry lips. I tried to get up but the girl stepped forward and pushed me back into the chair. I thought she was mad and in sheer fright covered my face with a cushion. A thin long arm reached for the cushion and threw it into the garden.
I knew that she had read my thoughts. She began to speak "Don't be frightened" she said, "I am no mad woman. No......perhaps I am mad, but only mad with grief. I came here because I was hungry. If you stop being scared and give me a chair, I shall tell you my story."
I nervously pushed a chair towards her and she sat down. "My name is Ranjini. I am the only daughter of a doctor. I graduated in India this year and I was living with my parents in Gal Oya. My father was liked by both the Tamils and the Sinhalese, but we Tamils saw a change in the attitude of the Sinhalese, soon after the general elections. We thought it was temporary. No…anti-Tamil feelings broke out in all their ferocity soon after June 5th. In Colombo unarmed Satyagrahis were beaten up by cowards in public. But in Gal Oya, what happened in public was nothing compared to what was done in secret.
Murderers, thieves, convicts, rowdies, thugs—these were the type of people who had been encroaching into the Tamil area for years. All their criminal instincts came out in full force during the anti-Tamil riots that followed June 5th. Women were molested. Children were cut up like chickens. Men on duty were abused and stoned. Those who locked themselves up were starved. Those who ventured out were assaulted. Well, you must have heard everything. I dont' want to say much about what happened during those few terrible days. Because...because it only pains me beyond belief. But this I must tell you—my parents too fell victims to a kris-knife. I escaped through the kindness of some neighbours. But I lost everything that I possessed except the clothes on my back. I lost track of my friends and wandered away somewhere. The wails of women and children rent the air. I could not bear it. A feeling of bitterness and hatred welled up within me...... I wanted to kill myself......but I was too proud to do so. And God came to my aid. The Tamil exodus had begun-and someone gave me a lift till Chavakachcheri. It was all like a dream to me. Only after I was left alone again that I came back to reality with a terrible shock. Only then I realised that my mother...my father...had left me forever. Destitute, I thought and opened my clenched fingers......no...I had no money.....and I wanted to go to my uncle......to Kayts. And I walked all the way to town. Your house looked inviting so I walked in" She stopped and looked straight into my eyes. "No...," she said, "Don't pity me......I know of many who walked all the way to Elephant Pass; of many who fell by the wayside; of many who were lost in the forest of Gal Oya; of many who died through starvation and grief."
The Tamil exodus had begun-and someone gave me a lift till Chavakachcheri. It was all like a dream to me. Only after I was left alone again that I came back to reality with a terrible shock.
She was crying. I hung my head because tears came to my eyes and I couldn't control them. I thought of all those who must have suffered this and more. I thought of the inhuman devils who had caused all this. And I thought of God...God who allowed such miseries to happen.
A silence enveloped us—a silence broken only by the girl's bitter sobs. Suddenly she wiped her eyes and spoke in a steady voice. "Give me some food" she said "I am hungry. And some money for bus fare. I want to go to Kayts." She ate what I gave her, took my money, thanked me and walked out without another word. At the gate she turned abruptly, and said "I may be only a woman but I will take vengeance on the race that persecuted my people. One day my mother tongue shall stand supreme over the Sinhalese language." Her determination seemed to give her new strength. "Poor child of the Thamil Nad" I thought, as she slowly disappeared from my view'
