When Nathan arrived at Sydney Uni to study science, he blended right in.
Back home at Mudgee he had always felt unique, thanks to the brown of his skin.
At Sydney Uni, however, every skin tone in the colourist’s palette was visible! The white students too were sun bronzed, and looked Maltese rather than Anglo-Saxon.
Nathan loved it all, instantly.
When everyone gathered and talked about where they were from, Nathan said, “I’m Australian. My parents adopted me from Sri Lanka.”
“North or south of Sri Lanka?” someone asked.
“I don’t know,” Nathan answered, slightly embarrassed.
His skin colour aside, he had always felt Australian in thought and culture. And yet, now, he found himself drawn towards people of a similar ethnicity. He couldn’t explain it. When they spoke in their native language, he did not understand, and felt somewhat conflicted. He liked the way they referred to each other as ‘machan’, and soon learned that it was their version of ‘mate’.
Many had migrated to Australia between ten and fifteen years ago.
When one friend Sivakanthan invited him home to dinner, he accepted readily. He was delighted at Siva’s parents’ warm welcome, but was disappointed when he struggled to enjoy the various dishes they served. Having been raised on very Australian fare, this Sri Lankan meal was far too spicy for his palate.
His parents Emily and Chris, who owned several acres of vineyards, had raised him lovingly and flawlessly, with good values. They were well-respected in Mudgee, and he also received the same regard. His life, which had been a clear stream thus far, now felt as if something was missing and incomplete. What is my origin, and who is my biological mother, he pondered? Many questions arose in his mind.
*
Back home in Mudgee for the summer, Nathan decided he would find out more about his biological mother. Confused and worried as to how to broach the subject with his parents, he had many sleepless nights. Some nights it was the hooting of the owls and the chirping of crickets that rocked him to sleep.
One night, as they sat in the garden under the starry sky, enjoying the cool breeze and their favourite Cabernet Sauvignon, Nathan gathered the courage.
“Mum, Dad, what do you know about my… uh… my… real parents?”
Emily and Chris were taken aback, but managed to stay calm because they had expected this question to come one day.
It was Emily who responded first, her eyes welling up. “Sweetheart, we knew you would ask one day, but we also wanted to wait until you felt ready to inquire,” she said, gently drawing him to her. “Nathan, we know nothing about your parents. As we were not blessed with children, we adopted you from Sri Lanka. We heard about the suffering caused by the war, the children left without support, and when we heard about you, we knew we had found our child to love.’’
Chris put a comforting hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “We love you just as much as if you were our own flesh and blood. You are our son, no matter where you came from.”
Nathan felt a mix of emotions swirling inside him. Confusion, sadness, but also a strange sense of relief, as if everything suddenly made sense, even if it didn’t really.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” Nathan murmured, his voice breaking.
“You don’t have to say anything, Nathan,” Emily said softly. “Just know that we love you, and we will support you no matter what.”
The next few days were a blur for Nathan. He tried to go about his usual routine, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t shake the feeling that a part of him was missing, that he needed to find out more about his biological mother.
It was a week later when he said to Emily and Chris, “If it’s ok with you, I’d like to go to Sri Lanka.”
When there was no answer, Nathan put his arms around his mum’s shoulder, and said, “You will always be my mother and father. I am blessed to have parents who are kind and sensitive and who have given me a wonderful life. If you are not happy about my idea, I’ll reconsider.”
“No, no, dear, you can go freely,” Chris said. “You have our full support.”
Emily brought out the adoption papers.
“Nathan, I understand totally that you want to look for your birth mother,” she said caressing his back. “Just be prepared, though. Your search may go wrong.”
*
Nathan got together with Sivakanthan to devise a strategy. First up, they sent the adoption documents to a private investigator in Sri Lanka, to seek information about the parties that had given him up for adoption.
It took a year for them to hear back – the authorities had found some information.
Nathan was ready to travel to Sri Lanka, the land of his birth, and to find out more about his mother. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he felt a deep-seated need to connect with his roots.
As he boarded the plane to Colombo, his trusted friend Siva by his side, he felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. He didn’t know what he would find in Sri Lanka – he just knew he had to go. He had to find the missing piece of himself, to finally answer the questions that had been plaguing him for so long. As the plane took off and soared into the sky, Nathan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The journey ahead would be difficult, but he was ready. Ready to uncover the truth about his past, and ready to forge a new future, one that embraced all parts of who he was.
*
His first feel of his country of birth was the welcoming embrace of the hot humid air.
In Colombo, the investigator took Nathan and Sivakanthan to an orphanage in Vavuniya in the Northern Province. There they learned that Nathan’s grandfather Velayutham had brought him here. His mother Akilla’s poverty, it was explained to him, was the reason she gave him up for adoption.
Velayutham was not to be found at the address they were given. Following more inquiries and wandering around in search, they finally traced him to a village called Chettikulam near Vavuniya.
As they set out to meet him, Sivakanthan said, “Do you know, Velayutham is a Tamil name. You could turn out to be my relative!” Nathan knew this was his friend’s way of easing the tension. He smiled in reply, “Then we’ll become true machan.”
Velayutham, they found, was bedridden and suffering from dementia. His younger sister Pakiam, who was also his carer, had some answers. Akilla had migrated to Adelaide, Australia, she revealed, and provided an address and phone number.
Like a boomerang, Nathan returned to Australia in the search for his mother.
“Your next destination should be Adelaide,” Emily said to him.
“I’ll go,” said Nathan, and added with a plea, “But I’d like you to come with me.”
“Dear Nathan,” Emily replied smiling brightly. “I was just about to ask!”
*
At the hotel in Adelaide, Nathan took out Akilla’s contact details. Feeling nervous yet determined, he dialed, then abruptly ended the call to calm his nerves, glancing at his mother for reassurance.
“Don’t be nervous, dear,” Emily encouraged softly.
He dialled again.
“Hello!” a mature voice answered at the other end.
Heart pounding, Nathan said, “Akilla………Shaan….mugam please?”
He struggled to pronounce the name Shanmugam.
“Yes,” came the answer.
“My name is Nathan… Grandma told me to meet you,” he said in.
“Which grandmother?”
“Paakiam Grandma.”
“Oh, really! Is everyone safe in Chetikulam?”
“Yes, they are all well. I live in Sydney. I met Patti when I went to Chettikulam. Can I meet you?”
“I’m at work tomorrow. I can come to the Cibo cafe on Victor Street at lunch time, say one o’clock. Can you meet me there?”
Nathan said with confidence, “I’ll be there.”
It was well before that time that Nathan got to the café, taking a seat and anxiously looking at the entrance. The temperature outside was forty two degrees. Inside the air-conditioned cafe, it was cool and comfortable.
Soon a young Indian looking woman, around thirty five years old, entered the restaurant, causing Nathan’s heart to race. He thought to himself that she seemed too young to be his mother. However, she approached and said, “Nathan?” with a raised eyebrow and a smile.
“Yes,” Nathan replied, immediately standing up and pulling out a chair for her to sit down. He took a seat opposite her. As he looked at Akilla’s smiling face, his heart skipped a beat. He noticed the dimples on her cheeks, just like his own when he smiled.
Akila sat down and looked at him from head to foot. “How are you related to me?” she asked, breaking Nathan’s reverie.
Nathan sat transfixed by the woman who had given him life.
“Are you ok?” Akilla prodded.
“Mother,” Nathan finally blurted. “I am… your son.”
Akilla felt as though she had been hit with a hammer, and time seemed to stand still. She placed a hand on her chest to calm the palpitations of her heart. Then, she stuttered, “Wh….at a…re you saying? No way.”
“I went to Sri Lanka and inquired at the Vavuniya orphanage,” Nathan explained. “It was recorded that as soon I was born, Velayutham Patta admitted me to the Ashram. I went to the Chettikulam address they gave me and saw Patta, who was ailing, and it was Paakiam Paati who gave me your address.”
“Oh… but the child had died… that’s what I was told?” Akila’s voice rose in surprise, her eyes wide open.
Nathan sat there, stunned. His whole world seemed to shift beneath him. “Now I am supposed to be dead,” he whispered, almost to himself. Pale-faced and swallowing saliva in his parched throat, asked, “Did Paata tell you I was dead?”
Akilla sat staring at Nathan’s curly hair, fair complexion and majestic body, her stomach churning. Nathan also studied Akilla’s face.
“I have your parrot nose, and dimples in the cheeks,” he said, finding strength in the connection he was beginning to feel. “I’m not dead… I’m alive. Your son is alive!”
Akilla continued to gape, still speechless.
“Mother,” Nathan said slowly. “Can I call you that? Why did Paata say that I was dead?”
Nathan’s question echoed in Akilla’s mind as the horrifying events of twenty-two years ago flashed before her eyes like vivid video footage.
Gathering herself, she found her words, which came out thick and heavy.
“Nathan, have you heard about Sri Lanka’s Thirty Years Civil War? The devastation caused by it… it cannot be told in words. Your father was one of the many victims of the Sri Lankan army’s bombing.”
Overcome with emotion, she fell silent again briefly.
“I fell in love with your father and got married to him at the age of 15, against your grandfather’s approval,” she related. “I was with child when your father died in the war. I had already lost Mother. It was Father who admitted me to the hospital when it was time. It was he that told me that you were a stillborn baby boy. I returned to school, and went on to university. I got married in an Adelaide-based family. My husband and I now have two children. They don’t know about my past misery. I never dreamed that you would come and stand in front of me like this, my dear son! My poor father has deceived me!”
Akila covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
Nathan’s joy at meeting his mother was now shadowed with the pain and suffering she had endured. Stroking her arms gently, he could only utter the word, “Mother,” as if in reassurance.
Coming back to reality, Akilla asked, “How did you come to be here… in Australia?”
“I was adopted from the orphanage in Vavuniya as a six-month-old baby by my foster father Chris and mother Emily. They have brought me up with no shortage of affection and educated me well. But I wanted to know my identity, and above all, my mother and father who gave me life.”
Both sat in silence, thinking and unable to digest the events that happened twenty two years ago. Nathan, composing himself, said, “Mother! Thank you for giving me life, and not destroying me in the womb when your life was upside down. My parents who brought me up are by my side helping me to look for you. Even now, Mum Emily has come to Adelaide and is waiting for me at the hotel.”
He then took his phone out and asked if he could take a selfie. As they hugged, tears ran down their cheeks.
As Nathan left the restaurant, the tears did not stop for Akilla, instead becoming an uncontrollable sob.
The brutality she had faced in Sri Lanka twenty years ago haunted her.
The lies she had just told her son, may have shocked him, but weighed heavily on her conscience now.
The Government’s army not only destroyed the land of the Tamils, but also soiled the Tamil women. How would she ever tell her son that she was one of them – one of those with a secret, that must die with her?
How would she ever tell him?
As she took her first steps out of the restaurant, knowing she was a changed woman forever yet again, she said under her breath, “God, please forgive me.”
