On a cold January night, an hour before midnight, Jayakumar kissed his sleeping three-yearold daughter Bhumika’s cheek and walked out of the house, closing the door softly. On the dark beach about 100 metres away, his brother Senthil and uncle were already dragging their bright green fibreglass boat into the crashing waves. For four hours, they sailed quietly, their faces barely visible to each other in the moonlight. When the shoreline was out of sight, they cast their net. Just as they were pulling up their net heavy with fish and prawns, a blinding beacon flooded their boat. The Sri Lankan Navy was speeding towards them, filled with 10 men, machine guns in hand.
As soon as the speedboat caught up, a navyman hopped on board. In broken Tamil, he screamed at Jayakumar to rip the fishing net, but the latter hesitated — the net was full of catch. Enraged, the navyman ordered everyone to strip. As they did, shivering in the cold night, he laughed. “Now jump in the water!” he said. More...
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As soon as the speedboat caught up, a navyman hopped on board. In broken Tamil, he screamed at Jayakumar to rip the fishing net, but the latter hesitated — the net was full of catch. Enraged, the navyman ordered everyone to strip. As they did, shivering in the cold night, he laughed. “Now jump in the water!” he said. More...
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