"I had only heard the noise all this while, but two weeks ago I actually saw one," says Christa about the shelling in her home town of Batticaloa. "We all saw it. All the children in my class. We were in our school at that time and our classroom is in the second floor, so we could see everything. We saw it coming and we saw it falling into the playground in front of our school. No one was hurt, but it was so terrible."

The fifteen-year-old has decided to stay at home since she saw the shell falling into the playground. For her, the 'most scariest thing' in her hometown is "shelling".

"I think the children in Colombo are very lucky. There is no shelling sound to disturb their studies and they can go to school everyday. I want to go to Colombo, I will never be able to study here," Christa says.

All her life, Christa has lived in this sandy city in the East, with conflict in the background. But the noise of war has never been more clear and real than now.

"Even the machine gun noise is so terrible. It shakes our school buildings. We get so terrified that the building will collapse," she says, "At those times our principal asks us to vacate classrooms and gather in our school grounds. All the students come and we wait there until it stops."

Education has been severely hampered in the war-torn areas of this island-nation. Some schools cannot function because they are crowded with refugees and others cannot function because they are deserted.

"Many children like me don't come to school any more," says Christa. "We only get around two periods to study during the day. The rest, we are either vacating classrooms or going home."

"When we were small, we used to share so many jokes in class with friends. We would tell each other stories, share girl-talk and enjoy, but now, all that the children talk about is war and IDPs and shelling and how we are supposed to study. We don't even play during the break."

"I used to enjoy going out with my family. We would go to the market; sometimes we would go to the beach. But we don't go anymore."

No parent in this troubled town allows children out alone anymore. By 5:30 in the evening all children are inside their homes and by seven all adults. Young and old alike are disturbed by the sounds that interrupt the night silence.

Christa's little brother Chrishone is just 10. Unlike his akka (elder sister) he wants to stay here in Batticaloa no matter what happens. Like many little boys of his age he is fascinated by guns and rockets and fighting; he even knows the difference between the sound of a multi-barrel attack and a shell attack.

But for Christa, her home town has lost all meaning. "I don't want to stay here any longer. I'm just waiting to leave this place. If I go, I will never come back; even if the war is over," she says.