‘Huh? What are you on about, Inaya?’

‘All I’m saying is . . . what’s the point of . . . all the breathing in and out, Fariha? Why not do something . . . that actually counts?’

Inaya sprang to her feet from her last sit-up and thumped Fariha on her back.

‘I need to work on my cover drive. Are you ready to bowl?’

Inaya picked up her bat and raced on ahead, swinging her torso from side to side. Fariha took a deep breath, reached for the taped tennis ball lying next to her, spun it into the air and neatly caught it. She ran on to the field behind Inaya; the spring was back in her step.

Blue-Black Nothings

New Delhi, India

‘How did you get that nasty bruise on your tummy, Jai?’ asked Arathi, as Jai changed into his pyjamas for the night.

Jai hurriedly buttoned his shirt.

‘It’s nothing, Ma,’ he muttered.

‘Well, that’s the biggest blue-black nothing I’ve ever seen,’ said Arathi. She lifted his shirt and scrutinized the bruise.

‘Is someone at school hurting you, Jai?’ she asked, frowning. ‘Is it that Muslim fellow? Rustom what’s-his-name?’

‘Rustom is my best friend. You really have to stop thinking that all Muslims are bad, Ma.’

Just then, Badi Ma walked into the room and began rummaging through Jai’s things.

‘Where could they be?’ she muttered under her breath. Arathi, who was still clucking over the bruise, barely noticed her mother-in-law in the room.

‘This is not about what I think, Jai—this is about you. I hope you aren’t quietly putting up with people inflicting bruises on you, shoving you aro—’ She suddenly noticed her mother-in-law, ‘—ask Badi Ma. She has had to put up with so much because of those people.’

Both Jai and Arathi looked at her expectantly.

‘Ah, there they are,’ said Badi Ma, picking up her spectacles from the dresser. ‘It makes such a difference when you see the world through the right lens.’ She sighed deeply and sat down on the bed beside Jai.

‘I was just saying to Jai—’ began Arathi.

‘The Muslims suffered just as much as we did during the Partition, Arathi,’ interjected Badi Ma softly. ‘Sometimes, when I hear about people who had to leave India and go to Pakistan, I feel like I share something with them that perhaps not even my own family will understand.’

This was definitely not the first time that Jai’s grandmother had broached this topic, but she usually left off without completing her stories.

‘Why were you so saddened by that diary and pouch we found, Badi Ma?’ Jai asked.

Badi Ma was quiet, as if riding some spiral of memory. Then Jai saw her shut the windows to whatever there was in her past. It was a look he knew only too well. It meant there would be no more information coming.

‘Did you read that diary, Ma?’ asked Arathi. ‘What did it say? Any clue to whom it had belonged?’