A Mini-Series by Sriram Tawker
📌 Based on a Real Incident
📚 Missed the previous chapters? Catch up below:
➡️ Read Chapter 1 – Beginning of the End
➡️ Read Chapter 2 – The Retaliation
Previously on The Children of War:
In Jaffna, Tamil leader Amritaraj announces the largest peace protest the region has ever seen — a bold stand against years of oppression. But in Kandy, a secret mission is set in motion by Defence Minister Cyril Mathew, who briefs a hand-picked Sinhalese police battalion to crush the protest with force.
Meanwhile, Kesavan, the local youth leader of the movement, prepares to lead the protest — torn between his duty to the cause and his pregnant wife Chintana. The protest is only hours away, and both sides are on edge.
Chapter 3 – The D-Day
🗓️ May 27, 1981 – Jaffna, Sri Lanka
The rising sun bathed the northern town of Jaffna in a golden hue. Towering palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, scattered across a vast, flat landscape where houses stood modest and spread apart. To the east lay an ancient port built by the Portuguese in the 16th century, and at the town’s centre stood its pride — the grand public library, home to hundreds of rare manuscripts and centuries of Tamil history.
After cutting through a canopy of trees, the sunlight finally reached Kesavan’s home — a small, fenced property with a neat garden of blooming flowers and a tiny well tucked into its backyard.
Kesavan woke with a start. He sat up in bed and turned to his side — Chintana wasn’t there. He glanced at the calendar, and an uneasy knot formed in his stomach.
Today was the day he had long prepared for, yet secretly wished would never arrive.
It had been six years since he joined the TULF party, driven by a deep belief in justice and equality. His boldness had earned him the role of youth wing leader, and he had since led several peaceful demonstrations. But today was different. Today, nearly fifty thousand supporters from across the country had already gathered in Jaffna — and more were arriving by the hour.
Despite being the main coordinator of the protest, Kesavan couldn’t shake the fear gnawing at him. What if something went wrong? What if he was arrested? What would happen to his wife Chintana, who was due to deliver their first child within a week?
They had no savings, barely surviving on his monthly income. He considered speaking to Chintana’s father before leaving. But his mind shifted to darker possibilities — of what the ruling government, known for its brutality, might do in retaliation.
Still, fear wasn’t the dominant feeling. Rage was. Rage born from years of silence, fuelled by the words of his leader Amirtaraj:
“Fear is the tool the government uses to silence us. Let us break free, speak our truth, and lead our children to freedom. We fight not just for ourselves, but for generations to come.”
Had this protest taken place before he was married, Kesavan might have felt only pride. But now, with a family to protect, the stakes felt unbearable.
Chintana hadn’t spoken much since she learned of the protest. He got out of bed, searched the house, and found her sitting silently on the porch, staring at the empty street.
He sat beside her gently.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, still looking ahead.
“What are you thinking about? You haven’t said more than a few words to me in days.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Are you worried about the protest?”
She didn’t answer.
“You know how important this protest is, right? What it means to our people? If we succeed, our children will thank us.”
Chintana turned to him, tears rising. “Do you know how important you are to me? To our child who hasn’t even seen the world yet?”
“I understand,” he said softly. “But nothing bad will happen. It’s a peaceful protest. I’ll be back by evening.”
“You know that’s not true. There are rumours in town that the government is sending in an army battalion. I’m begging you, Kesav… don’t go today. I don’t want to lose you.” Her voice broke into sobs.
He reached for her hand. “Chintu, my father suffered under the Sinhalese regime. So did I. Today, I fight so that our son won’t have to. I don’t know how this ends — but I do know it’s the start of something bigger. Either we win today, or we spark a revolution that will shape the future.”
Chintana began to cry uncontrollably. She knew nothing could stop him.
Kesavan moved closer, put his arm around her shoulders. They sat in silence for a few moments, staring at their uncertain future. He rested his hand on her baby bump — as if saying goodbye.
After Kesavan left for the protest, Chintana wept alone on the sofa. Exhausted, she eventually drifted into a restless sleep, only to be jolted awake by a sharp knock at the door. Heart pounding, she rushed to the window and peered outside.
It was her father.
His face was pale, grief-stricken.
She opened the door urgently. “Appa, what happened?”
He hesitated. “Something terrible, Chintu. About an hour after the protest began, a police battalion stormed in. They beat everyone — women, children, elders. The town is burning. They’re trying to frame the protest as violent and crush it entirely.”
Her voice trembled. “What about Kesav?”
“They arrested everyone. Kesavan, Amritaraj… all of them. No one knows where they’ve been taken.”
Chintana collapsed to the floor, hands clutching her head.
“There’s more,” he said, almost unable to speak. “They’ve started arresting families of party leaders. Amritaraj’s family was taken this morning. They’ll come here next. You must leave — now.”
“Leave? But where? I want to stay — Kesav needs me.”
“Chintu, we can’t do anything now. The country is spiralling. I fear this won’t end soon. Militants will enter the scene. This could become war. You have to protect yourself — and your baby. If they arrest you…” he paused, his voice shaking, “God knows what they might do. Please. Leave now.”
“But… Kesav?”
“We’ll do everything we can to find him. But you must go — not just from this town… from this country.”
Chintana froze. “What? But where would I even go? I don’t know anyone outside Sri Lanka.”
“You’ll go to India. I’ve spoken to my friend Senanayake — he’ll help you get there by boat. Take what money you have. He’ll guide you from there.”
“But this is my home. These are my people. I can’t leave everything behind.”
“Chintu,” he said, voice breaking, “I’ve never seen anything like this in my lifetime. We are on the edge of war. Your child should not be born in the middle of this chaos. Please, I beg you.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “What will I do in India? We don’t know anyone.”
“The government there will provide you with basic needs. You’ll be a refugee, yes — but you’ll be alive. That’s what matters now. After all this is over, we’ll come for you.”
He stuffed a bundle of currency into her hands.
“Then you also come with me, Appa,” she pleaded.
“My time is over. I need to stay and try to find Kesav. Don’t worry about me. Just go.”
Just then, sirens blared in the distance. He rushed to the window.
“They’re here. Take your things and go out the back.”
Chintana hurried to her room, grabbed whatever money and clothes she could, stuffed it into an empty bag and returned. Her father was still at the window. She hugged him tightly, trying not to cry.
He kissed her forehead and led her to the back door.
She slipped through the gate, walking quickly toward the eastern edge of town.
Her father stood watching her, tears falling silently. Then he went inside, latched the door, and barricaded it with a table.
Chintana walked faster. After a few minutes, she ducked behind a tree and looked back.
An army van screeched to a halt outside her house. Two officers stepped out, guns in hand, and marched briskly toward the entrance. Without hesitation, they smashed the door and stormed inside.
Silence followed.
Neighbors began to gather, quiet and wary, watching from a distance.
Each passing second pounded like a drum in Chintana’s chest.
Then — a burst of gunfire.
A single, shattering cry.
The final, broken scream of an old man.
And that was the moment Chintana felt it — the first sharp, unmistakable strain of labour pain.
🙏 Thank you for reading Chapter 3.
👉 Chapter 4 arrives next Thursday.
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