Danger, Love And Loneliness

• Adam Stafford-Bell, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2014

The following story focuses on the effects of cultural differences, specifically the Singhalese and Tamil Civil War.

Lalith was busying himself with his guests: “Welcome everyone!” he cried, struggling to be heard amongst the chatter. “I hope you have all enjoyed this plentiful harvest and that Buddha has been pleased with our offerings! Now let us celebrate,” he grunted as he opened the large doors to the hall.

Visakan began weaving through the dancing guests.
He soon noticed her; a beautiful girl who was about his age. He began to admire the way her jet-black hair flowed over her shoulders, how her eyes sparkled in the moonlight and the way her smile made his heart skip a beat. He hesitated. Something in the back of his mind went off like a beacon. He saw a man standing with her, kissing her on the cheek and holding her hands. Visakan’s heart sank; she was already with someone.

“There he is!” smiled Anajan as Visakan moped towards them, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” replied Visakan solemnly.
“I know that face,” said Saravanan cheekily, “who is she?”
“Best you don’t get wrapped up about it mate,” explained Anajan cut in, “there’s no point admiring any of these Sinhalese girls.”
Visakan was furious, “What does it matter? How is she any different from you or me?”
He stormed off. ***

Something caught Ajantha’s eye, “ARGH! It’s those Tamil boys!” he cried, malice dripping off each syllable. Immediately he began to walk towards Visakan and his friends, fisted balled.
Suddenly, Lalith was there, towering over him.
“What are you doing?” he asked rhetorically, “Don’t you dare think of ruining this sacred day with a brawl!”
“But uncle, they are Tamils! -“
“It doesn’t matter who they are,” Lalith said quietly, “as long as everyone is happy.”
***
Visakan was leaning on admiring one of the many tapestries lining the hall when the girl snuck up on him.
“Excuse me?”
Visakan jumped. It was her!
“Oh, good evening, I’m Chandika” he stammered, reciting the name tag of a servant he bumped into earlier that night.
“Really?” she replied sarcastically. She raised one of her eyebrows knowingly.
She edged closer. Another beacon went off.
“Who was that man you were with before?” he asked.
“No one,” she muttered.
“Would you like to dance?” She smiled.

“I should probably tell you my name,” he whispered as flew across the dance floor, “it’s Visakan.”
“Sanuthi,” she replied.
Visakan was surprised that he hadn’t been kicked out.
“We should go somewhere a little more private,” she said, noticing his angst.
Leaving the hall they climbed the nearest stairway.
Then he kissed her.
Unsurprisingly, she kissed him back.
***
It was late into the night when Sanuthi realised the danger they were in.
“You have to go Visakan,” She whispered.
Visakan nodded quietly, feeling quite depressed.
“I’ll see you soon, I hope,” he said, kissing her one last time.
Then she was alone, like always.