By Frances Harrison At Pulal refugee camp in Madras

"What I have learned is living in an alien country is painful," says Sri Lankan refugee Selvaratnam.

I would rather die in my motherland

Niroshen, young refugee

He and 300 other families live in squalid shacks in Pulal refugee camp on the outskirts of the southern Indian city of Madras.

They fled from north-eastern Sri Lanka more than a decade ago, making the perilous sea journey at night.

"In the middle of the sea our boat was going to sink. We prayed to every god to save us," remembers Devagee, an elderly nurse from Trincomalee.

She survived because another boat saw their flashing torch and came to their rescue taking some of the excess passengers off to prevent them all drowning.

Desperate for peace

The peace process in Sri Lanka has raised hopes among people who have been waiting for some good news for a long time.

Social life at the camps is limited

"Each and every person in this refugee camp wants to go back to Sri Lanka even if they don't say it openly," explains Selvaratnam.

He comes from Chavakachcheri, one of the worst-damaged towns in Sri Lanka and used to be involved in militant politics himself.

His property has been destroyed but he says life is so hard in the camp that he is willing to risk becoming a refugee in his own country because even that would be preferable.

"Except begging we have done everything you can think of," says Jeyanti who fled to India aged 18, newly married.

"I have no idea what the Tamil Tigers are going to do or the other parties. I am just an ordinary person. I just want peace, that's all," she says.

Menial labour

Her friend Selvi has tears in her eyes as she asks for news of Sri Lanka and hears the names of familiar places.

Refugees rely on hard labour to earn a living

For years she lost touch with her mother because of the fighting back home and only re-established contact a year ago by letter.

"Here I eat food with tears," she complains, "I just want to eat with joy and happiness and see my mother's face."

But Selvi says the days they eat are the days her husband finds work in a huge dusty cement warehouse.

The Sri Lankan refugees have the worst task of loading heavy sacks of cement in and out of lorries.

Mixed feelings

Many of them were farmers, fishermen and even ran their own businesses before.

Some children have grown up with divided loyalties

Now they say their parents would not recognise them doing such lowly work.

Devaraj, who used to be a fisherman, says he is willing to go back whether or not the peace process succeeds.

He just wants to see his family in Sri Lanka and make sure his children who were born refugees know where they belong.

"All I know about Sri Lanka is that it's like a mango - round and drooping - hanging off India. I know there's forest and roads and bombs that bounce on your head," explains eight-year old Nishanten.

He says he wants to go for a visit but he prefers to return to India for education.

Powerful bond

The younger generation is suffering from divided loyalties.

Some camps have only very basic services

"I cannot say I have a wonderful life here nor am I having a terrible time - if you're a refugee you're bound to face difficulties," philosophises Niroshen.

He came to India aged six and is now a teenager attending a dance rehearsal for an inter-camp competition.

He remembers only the bombs that drove his family out of Sri Lanka but says if he returns there, he would not go into exile again even if the fighting resumes.

"I would rather die in my motherland," he explains.