“Did you see the elephants?” Amitha asked me this morning. The power had gone out and we were taking a break out on the balcony, a futile attempt to avoid the heat.

I gave him a confused look from the hammock in which I was perched, never quite trusting that I had bridged the language barrier. He, however, had no problem reading my face. “In Kandy, at the Temple for the Tooth.”

“Oh,” I said, remembering that Kandy was famous for elephants. With one foot idly draped over the side, I rocked the hammock hoping for a breeze. “Huh. I didn’t see any elephants.”

They were shocked. Everyone jumped to explain where the elephant was and to show their surprise at missing such a massive animal, let alone a cornerstone of Kandy sight-seeing.

“Well, it wasn’t there.” I replied, after I was positive that I understood its standard location. I wasn’t sure at first. But really, how does one miss an elephant?

The whole notion of elephants here in Sri Lanka has been a bit unexpected. Most people are aware that there are elephant preserves. This week I will even be visiting an elephant orphanage. However, the blend of religion into animal deities sometimes results in unexpected outcomes. Take the cow, for example, a Hindi deity, commonly seen feasting on road side garbage heaps. Elephants, representatives of Ganesh, have a special place.

Approximately two weeks ago, during yet another break out on the balcony, we were talking about exotic foods. We were teasing Anjuna about his love of dogs, to which he indicated his preference that they be cooked. Sushi led to snake, and snake lead to beef, and the journey down the slippery slope began.

“So, do you ever eat elephant?” Kara asked. The boys were silent.

“Like when they are old?” Kara quickly added. The boys exchanged a silent yet meaningful glance. The silence took on a tense air.

“I mean, after they are done working,” Kara continued. I looked around for a shovel.

“No!” Anjuna cried out.

“Never, no.” Amitha said at the same time.

It was only at this point that I understood their former silence as horror.

I wasn’t quite sure what to say. However, I wasn’t about to let such a golden opportunity in the ongoing rivalry pass by. I looked at Kara and said, “Yeah, I think they used the cross for the barbeque.”

“The key to comedy,” my high school drama teacher, Robin Edwards, would say, “is repetition.” Ever since our faux pax, Kara and I have teased the boys endlessly about eating elephants. It is always done in an exaggeratedly false manner, in order to make light of our prior insensitivity. However, today when a game of cricket was proposed as a means to pass the time, Amitha said we would need something for goal posts.

“Elephants!” we cried.

I’m not sure if Robin was right. The boys didn’t think it was funny.