The House Where Heroes Sleep
On the northern tip of the Island of Sri Lanka there is a gravesite that flies the flag of a dissenting minority group, the Tamil Tigers. This is a hero’s cemetery. These are the dead who died for freedom, and they are honored. The name of the place is The House Where Heroes Sleep. Farther south on the eastern coast of Sri Lanka there is a beautiful estate. It is columned and arched with complicated corridors. An elaborate garden surrounds the castle between its high outer walls. The rambling sections of the living quarters are separated with courtyards that are shadowed with lemon trees and climbing vines sparkling with the thrown spray of the marble fountains. The air throughout is fragrant with citrus and warm grass. The grass is carefully cultivated and lays like silk around the blue and white embroidery of fountaining pools.
If one could breach the high outer walls and walk across the quarter mile of cultivated lawn and garden undetected and then climb the vines on the side of the mansion to look through the eastern most window on the third floor one would see a classroom. This classroom is well
A beam of dusty light projected a green and blue image on the white mosaic wall. Just on the edge of the light a tiny, raisin-skinned, white-haired woman aimed a long cane at the projection, expounding both in English and Sinhalese the significance of the slides, “Sri Lanka lies directly off the southeast corner of India between the Bay of Bengal and the Indian Ocean. Because it looks very much like a teardrop just fallen from India’s long chin, the island has been called the Teardrop of India. It is also called Serendib, the Resplendent Isle, Ceylon, and the Pearl of the Orient—many names for the myriad desires that burn in the hearts of men.” Her wizened finger pushed a button and the wall flashed to a collage of animal and plant life. “Sri Lanka brims with treasures coveted by many peoples. Every corner of the island teems with life. Elephants, deer, sloth bears, peacocks, leopards, and buffalo roam from the arid grasslands of the north to the dense rainforest of the southern coasts. The land is richly laden with coconut, papaya and guanabana, aromatic tea leaves, cinnamon and exquisite flora such as the orchid and the lotus blossom.”
The projector clicked to a charming picture of a young girl in white holding a lavender lotus. Behind the girl was a Buddhist temple richly adorned with gold and other costly looking materials. The learned ancient gently cleared her throat and droned on: “But above all this, men desire the treasures Earth holds beneath our rich, root-veined soil. They yearn after subterranean rivers that flow with precious gems, hard and cold.” She stopped, contemplating her eloquence, compressed the button again and continued. The wall now bore more complex figures. Confused depictions of scarlet stained battles between men and half-men with mask-like faces full of fear and wrath.
She flipped through some of her notes and resumed without turning around “In the beginning of time, our legends say, this bountiful land was ruled by the Veddakah, demons that haunted the beauty of Sri Lanka. The Veddakah lived in peace punctuated by only a few minor skirmishes among the ruling families until the Sinhala crossed the Gulf of Mannar and destroyed their dark kingdom. The great Sinhala established a government in the center of the island among the high mountains of Sri Lanka, near the great footprint made by Buddha in his time among men. The Sinhala name named their capital, “Kandy.” It is there that the sacred tooth of Buddha is enshrined.
The Sinhala prospered here in this verdant land but they did not live in peace. The people whispered that the demons had left a curse on the land, and that unless the Veddakah’s dark ghosts were somehow appeased the island was doomed to sorrow and strife. The island’s abundance seduced many would-be conquerors and bred passionate jealousies. Fleets of swift ships from the far western country of Portugal were the first to claim ownership of the Sinhala’s kingdom. However, although the Portuguese stayed many years, they were never able to successfully root the Sinhala out of their fortress in the mountains.
It was the British Empire that finally conquered Sri Lanka and stripped Kandy of its sovereignty. They cleared land for coffee, tea and cinnamon plantations and imported Tamil Hindus from the mainland of India to work as slaves on their plantations. This is how the Tamils came to our land.” Vidusahani paused. She had come to the last slide and she turned pointer and mouth poised to guide her student through the appropriate questions. and her cane fell with a dull wooden clatter.
“Sanhitha Nuveena! Are you hearing any word of this?” Vidusahani stood with her hands on her bony hips staring at Nuveena bent over her desk, her head completely out of sight behind the thick linen curtains. Nuveena shot up, flipping the linen around and flooding the room with a flash of sunny brilliance, momentarily blinding poor Vidusahani and giving Nuveena the opportunity to quickly straighten the grin on her face to a degree just shy of a smirk.
“Oh, I am sorry Kaluhandhilage Vidusahani. I was listening, but the garden is so beautiful today with the new lotuses in the pool and the peacocks strutting for their women and children. I heard every word. The Tamil are slave’s children, and we, the Sinhala, are cursed, and the tooth is in Kandy, although I think it is funny that Buddha’s tooth is in Kandy, and I am not allowed candy because it will rot my teeth.” Nuveena smiled gently at her exasperated tutor.
“You are a clever girl, Nuveena. Can you imagine what things you could learn if you listened with both of your ears?” Vidusahani contemplated the sweet girlish face before her. She could not find it in her heart to scold those sweet young eyes in spite of mischievous twinkles. Vidusahani gave a tired sigh, “Ah Buddha knows I can see that I have no hold on you today. You may go to your beautiful garden and join the part of you that has not been here all this morning.”
Nuveena reached forward grabbing and kissing the fragile bones of Vidusahani’s hand and covered the distance between her desk and the arched doorway in two leaping strides. The girl paused just beyond the doorway to smile radiantly at her tutor.
“ Kaluhandhilage Vidusahani, you are full of unseen youth. You have always understood my heart so well.”
“And you, Nuveena, are as innocent and lovely as the lotus blossom. I would not darken your petals with an old woman’s thoughts for all the gems in Sri Lanka. But you are fifteen , which is twice as old as you behave. Your honorable parents will expect you to know your lessons, so we will continue tonight.”
“I will try harder tonight, Vidusahani.” Nuveena turned before the last word was out and sprinted down the long, high-ceilinged corridor.
Vidusahani listened to the quickly fading slap of the girl’s feet echo down the tiled halls and winding stair of the Sanhitha’s mansion. She gathered up her notes and books into a neat pile on her large ebony desk, and then leaned her head into her skeletal hands. Vidusahani was severely thin, but she enjoyed good health and her mind was still active and strong. She was very proud of her reputation as a dedicated tutor, knowledgeable and conscientious of her influence, and she was highly valued by her student’s honorable parents. Nuveena’s parents held high positions in the government of Sri Lanka, and therefore Nuveena could not safely be sent to school. Her parents had much influence, and it was far too likely that someone in this ethnically and politically torn island would attempt to manipulate her parents through their daughter. The danger was even greater now that Nuveena had blossomed into a graceful and lovely young woman. It was her parent’s fear that some unprincipled maggot would attempt to use her for her beauty as well. Vidusahani was preparing Nuveena to take the entrance exams at a private school in the United States. She would complete her last two years of high school in the States, and she would then attend college in England, preferably Oxford on a Rhodes Scholarship.
Vidusahani bent down to collect some fallen slides as she spoke quietly to the room. “These, for tomorrow . . .no, she will have to sit down tonight. We must finish this lesson tonight before her parents return.” Kaluhandhilage Vidusahani had cared for Nuveena from her infancy. The girl’s parents were kind and generous, but preoccupied with state affairs, especially now when the ceasefire with the Tamil Tigers seemed poised on the brink of violent disintegration. A Tamil woman had entered the Consul in Colombo and exploded a bomb taped under her clothes. It had killed or severely injured almost thirty Sinhala and some Muslims also. The Sinhala were angry. Muslim and Sinhala militants had already pledged retaliation. “Oh, protect us from our hateful follies” Vidusahani pled under her breath.
Nuveena had made quick time across the garden. She had entered through an orchid tangled gate, and paused for only a moment at the pool, wondering at lotus hues so brilliant that they painted gray stone walls with purple light, ran past the blue peafowl without a glance, past the stand of King’s coconut palms and behind the jasmine hedge to the small golden pagoda in the farthest northern corner of the garden. “Amaidhi! AmaidhiVadivu! Where are you?” Nuveena whispered loudly.
A delicate girl of about twelve years with mahogany skin and large black eyes peered timidly from behind the pagoda. “Nuveena, I am here.” Nuveena walked around to the far side of the pagoda. Amaidhi was sitting on a woven mat of palm fronds and a pile of mosquito netting with her back resting on the pagoda’s wooden foundation. She was holding the porcelain elephant in one hand and she turned her other hand from side to side so that the glittering green and amber crystals in her bracelet would catch the light. Littering the ground and palm leaves around the little girl were banana peels, water bags and a plate stained yellow by curry sauce and pebbled with dry rice. A nearby basket shaded by the jasmine bush and still half-full of wheat cakes, bananas and water pouches, rested on its side.
Nuveena knelt down beside the younger girl, and put her arms around her shoulders. “How did you pass the night? Did the wails of the peafowl disturb your sleep?” Nuveena asked, intently gazing into the profile of the younger girl’s narrow face. “I forgot to warn you. Their cries sound like a child’s. I worried all night that you might be frightened. Were you cold?” Amaidhi, who had still been gazing at the bracelet peered sideways and smiled shyly at Nuveena.
“I dreamt I was back in the refugee camp. There was always crying at night there. I wasn’t cold, but I wanted a blanket.”
“You will have a blanket tonight. I found one in my parent’s rooms, and if you will come just after the sunset fades, I will throw one down to you from my window, and I brought you a book.” Nuveena pulled a red leather bound book down from the back of It was a story from the myths of the Sinhala of Amin, a devil who had befriended the first Sinhala. Nuveena read to Amaidhi. “Because Amin had tried to help the Sinhala and been unjustly killed, his spirit rose and dwells with Buddha now. It was Amin’s brother, Sasrutha who left a demon’s curse on the land; The Sinhala will never live in peace until they could be as noble as Amin.”
“Nuveena Sanhitha! It is time for your tea.” Nuveena did not wish the house servant to come looking for her, so she quickly rocked back on her feet and began to tidy up the palm mat. She gathered the banana peels and water bags, wiped the plate cleaner with a banana peel and shoved it under her dress and up below her arm.
Nuveena could not get away for the rest of the day. Vidusahani insisted that their history lesson be completed. “Nuveena, I will use the slides again. Your parents believe that multimedia will improve the quality of your education, but I will be watching you more closely. And I will quiz you tomorrow in front of your parents. Listen closely! In order to balance the influence of the powerful white minority in Sri Lanka the Sinhala were given preference by the government, and many of the smaller groups, especially the Tamil, were discontented. In 1983 the first attacks by Tamil Tiger separatists were carried out against the Sinhala. This civil conflict has lasted for twenty years. The recent ceasefire is the longest episode of peace since 1983. Hundreds of thousands of people have been displaced and have fled to India or live in refugee camps.”
“Kaluhandhilage Vidusahani, do you believe in the demon curse? Will we truly not ever have peace with the Tamil?”
“I believe that demons are no stronger than our own hate. I hope that we may live in peace, but the Tamil are bloodthirsty, deceitful people, and I fear that nothing will ever improve unless we give them the north as their own, and put our armies on the border.”
“I do not think the Tamil are anymore bloodthirsty than we are, Kaluhandhilage Vidusahani.” She paused and then added, “My parents said they were not.”
“Nuveena, I will not argue with what your parents have said, but the Tamil worship Shiva who is a vicious god, not like our peaceful Buddha.”
Nuveena lowered her eyes and wrote down some notes, which pleased Vidusahani. “You may go and eat your dinner and play a while before bed if you wish.” Nuveena stood slowly from the dinner table and walked to the garden. She wanted to bring the blanket, but she did not know how to explain such an odd bundle to passing servants. It would be better to throw it down to Amaidhi as planned. She had requested an extra plate of spicy curry vegetables at dinner, telling them she wanted to finish in the garden.
That night in the afterglow of sunset, just as the stars began to appear, Nuveena threw down the soft wool blanket. As the blanket sailed towards Amaidhi’s uplifted hands it caught the last rays of daylight. The soft wool appeared a glowing, mammoth flying squirrel. Amaidhi laughed with delight.
“Sanhitha Nuveena! What are you doing?” Vidusahani was at the window in an instant and gasped as the blanket came to rest draping a human figure. “Who is that down there?” AmaidhiVadivu looked up at the old woman and Vidusahani’s heart slowed with the sight of her childish face.
Nuveena turned to her old teacher in mute fear, pleading in her heart that all might turn out well. If only Vidusahani could see that the Tamil girl was in need. If only Vidusahani could understand that she must help her. Vidusahani stared back at her pupil and awaited the girl’s explanation
“Kaluhandhilage Vidusahani, she is named AmaidhiVadivu. She came begging for food at the garden gate a day ago. She has no one. She left a refugee camp because she was afraid of the soldiers. Please, let us take care of her!”
“My child, AmaidhiVadivu is a Tamil name.”
“Yes it is Tamil. It is Tamil for symbol of peace! She is so young and helpless.
Would a people that would name their child peace not wish for it also?"
“Nuveena, is that what you were pondering during our tutorial?” Vidusahani sighed and shifted her weight to lean against the balcony railing. She watched Amaidhi retreat hesitantly back behind the pagoda. “I believe that children are innocent. They will learn what is taught them, but this situation is not as clearly defined as it may seem to you in the simplicity of your youthful and gentle heart. If she is from the refugee camp she is under care of the government, and we must report and return her there. If our people discovered that your parents are harboring Tamil refugees, we could all be in danger.”
Nuveena looked away in frustration. Tears had begun to fall down her face. She did not wish Vidusahani to see her crying.
“Let us go down and bring the child to sleep in a bed tonight.”
They brought Amaidhi to sleep in the little chamber adjacent to Nuveena’s rooms.
The little Tamil girl had curled up immediately and closed her eyes. She gripped her blanket tightly against her.
Nuveena’s dreams were troubled and dark. She dreamt of war. She saw armies sweeping across the beaches and up into the green hills. Wave after wave of hatred crashed against the fortresses of ancient Sinhala. She dreamt of green, tree-dwelling demons that attempted to suffocate her by throwing blankets on her head. She was suffocating, and she awoke. There was water in her room and her bed had begun to float. She heard Vidusahani screaming her name, and the cries of servants yelling: “The sea is coming! The sea is coming!” She forced her way through the flood of water flowing across her floor to the door leading to Amaidhi’s chamber. She struggled to open it against the current, and was just able to force her way through. Amaidhi appeared to have just opened her eyes, and was staring blindly at the incomprehensible sight of water on the second floor of the house. Nuveena caught the little girl in her arms and inched towards the door but could not open it. She turned towards the window. The water was flowing swiftly over the windowpane. Debris of trees and other unrecognizable things had started to creep into the room. With all her strength she lifted the Tamil girl onto the overhang above the window, and commanded her to climb to the top of the roof and hold on to the metal Buddha that she knew was attached to a metal pole, as a sort of cross-legged banner. It ran sturdily through both floors of the house and into the concrete foundation. She did not have strength to pull herself up. She could hear Amaidhi crying for her. She no longer heard Vidusahani or the servants. The tide swirled her around the room and out the window. As she was rushed away from the house by the raging water she looked up and saw Amaidhi watching her, crying. Nuveena tried to smile and pretend to swim. She did not want the girl to cry for her. Nuveena did not feel fear even when she was pulled beneath the surface. Amaidhi watching her disappear beneath the waves thought that it was odd that the sea had swallowed the sun in frothy clouds. She wondered that the water could hold her.
Amithnal and Minrada Sanhitha discovered the girl that afternoon clinging like refuse to their mansion’s icon. They marveled at the discovery of a Tamil girl named peace in the house of a Sinhala.
