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The Children of War – Part 5/5

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

➡️ Read Chapter 3 – The D-Day

➡️ Read Chapter 4 – The Escape

Previously on The Children of War:

As Jaffna burned, Chintana fled across the sea with the help of Senanayake — a retired general who stood against his own people to protect her. Alone, pregnant, and broken, she made it to Indian shores. But safety comes with a price. And the war is only just beginning.


Chapter 5 – India

In her dream, she sat on the porch of their Jaffna home, watching her son run in circles, laughing. Kesavan chased after him, smiling, carefree. The palm trees swayed gently in the wind. No war. No soldiers. Only peace.

But then a sharp pain sliced through her body.

She woke up.

Chintana was in a hospital bed, tubes in her veins. Glucose flowed into her bloodstream to restore her strength. Her head pounded. Her body ached.

And then she noticed.

Her baby bump was gone.

Panic surged through her. She ripped off the bandages, pulled at the tubes, and tried to stand just as a nurse rushed in.

“Madam, please… lie down. You need to rest,” the nurse said.

“My baby.. what happened? Where is my baby?” she asked, her voice cracking with panic.

The nurse placed a calming hand on her arm. “You were found by the coast guard. They brought you here. You were stable, but the baby had trouble breathing inside. We had to do a caesarean to save him.”

Chintana’s breath caught. “Is he… is he okay?”

The nurse gave a gentle smile. “He’s safe. Healthy. He’s sleeping in the next room. I’ll bring him as soon as he wakes up.”

Tears welled in Chintana’s eyes. “Thank you… but how? I didn’t even feel anything.”

“It happens in few cases,” the nurse said. “You were under anaesthesia. Now, please… get some rest.”

Chintana nodded and returned to her bed, heart still racing. It all felt like a dream. Just yesterday morning, she had woken up in her home in Jaffna. Now she was alone in another country, surrounded by strangers.

She thought of Kesavan. Where was he? Was he still alive? Would the party fight for him or was it all over?

All the leaders had been arrested. There was no one left.


An hour later, the nurse returned, carrying a small bundle wrapped in a soft wool blanket. She handed the baby to Chintana.

As she held her son for the first time, he opened his eyes and smiled — a small, radiant smile that, just for a moment, made the pain disappear.

The nurse placed a few papers on the table.

“You’ll need to fill these out. Since you arrived as a refugee, officials will be here soon to collect your details.”

Chintana looked up. “What will happen to me? Will I be sent back to Sri Lanka?”

“I don’t know,” the nurse replied, avoiding her gaze. “You might be sent to a refugee camp… or deported.”

She left the room not wanting to answer any more questions.

Chintana reached for a local newspaper beside her bed. The front page screamed of unrest in Sri Lanka: protests, military crackdowns, the burning of the Jaffna Library. The country was hurtling toward war.

She stared out the window, the sea calm beyond the horizon, and weighed the impossible.

She could stay in India, raise her child, wait for Kesavan.

Or…

She looked at her son. He was still smiling.

“My sweet boy… you are everything I’ve ever loved in this world.
I carried you through fire and fear, across a sea that nearly swallowed us whole — so you could live.
And now… I must go back. Not because I want to, but because your father needs me. Because our home needs me.

“I cannot take you into the storm. You deserve light.
Here, you’ll be safe — maybe not happy, not yet — but alive.
And that’s enough… for now.

“One day, when the guns are silent and the sky is clear, we’ll come back for you.
You’ll see us at the gate, smiling.
And we will go home.
Together.”

A tear rolled from her eye and landed on the baby’s cheek, like a soft full stop at the end of her vow.

She wiped it gently, kissed his forehead, and laid him in the cradle beside the bed.

Then she stood up with an empty stomach but a heavy heart.

With quiet determination, she tied her hair, drank a glass of water, kissed her son one last time, and walked out of the room. From the corridor, through the barred window, she looked back at him for one last time — sleeping peacefully.

She turned away.

And walked toward the sea. Toward Sri Lanka.

Toward the war.


Epilogue

The Jaffna protest became one of the major flashpoints that ignited the Sri Lankan Civil War, which raged for 26 years from 1983 to 2009.

During the protest, the historic Jaffna Public Library was burned to the ground, along with over 97,000 books, a cultural massacre that went unreported in the global press.

The war that followed claimed the lives of over 100,000 people, and numerous human rights violations were later confirmed by the United Nations.

It ended only in 2009, with the death of the leader of the Tamil militant group.

📖 Read more: Sri Lankan Civil War – Wikipedia


🙏 Thank you for reading The Children of War.
This story was born out of memory, mourning, and a desire to bring lost voices to light. If it moved you please share it. These stories deserve to be remembered.

💬 I’d love to hear your thoughts, reflections, or questions in the comments.
📩 Feel free to forward this to someone who needs to read it.

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