Toshi sighed, ‘I wish you had met my husband. His name was Prakash Puri. He was kind and good-hearted, just like you, Loki. And I have a son, Jai’s father—his name is Rajan.’

‘Is he here, in London? Is this where you live? When can I meet him?’

Just then, Rajan walked up to them. ‘Sorry, Ma,’ he apologized, his quizzical smile flashing over the old gentleman seated by his mother. ‘There was a really long queue to get into the museum. I hope we haven’t kept you waiting too long.’

‘Not at all, Rajan. The wait was well worth it,’ replied Toshi, smiling.

Too Familiar

‘So, what is this big lunch about, Ma?’ asked Rajan. They were seated in a Chinese restaurant, decorated in bold reds, with a swan motif on practically every imaginable surface.

‘It’s just a small celebration as a family—and besides, it was Arathi’s birthday, so we need to mark the occasion,’ said Toshi. She looked happier than Rajan had seen her look in a very long time.

‘Shall we order?’ asked Jai. He found all these discussions rather pointless. Big lunches were meant for eating. Period.

‘Yes, why not?’ said Arathi, smiling indulgently. ‘Try and catch a waiter’s attention please, Jai.’

As Jai turned around to try and catch the waiter’s eye, his attention was drawn to someone else instead. He groaned. This could not be happening. Pesky Girl and her family were in the same restaurant—and as if that weren’t bad enough, they seemed to be heading towards their table.

‘Hello,’ said Habib, ‘We meet again.’

Toshi smiled at him. ‘What a coincidence,’ she said—which it certainly wasn’t, as Habib and she had decided to ‘bump’ into each other at this restaurant with their families, so that they could break their news to them. In stages.

Arathi stiffened at seeing the Pakistani family again.

‘We’re all in attendance now—the whole khaandaan,’ said Habib, with a smile. ‘I’d like you to meet my son, Irfan. And this is my wife Humaira and her sister Adeela.’

‘It’s wonderful to meet you all,’ said Toshi. ‘And this is my son, Rajan—you met him briefly at the art gallery—the rest of us probably look familiar.’

‘Too familiar,’ muttered Jai, under his breath.

‘Are you talking to yourself?’ asked Inaya.

‘Er, no,’ said Jai. ‘You must be imagining things.’ Okay, not the greatest comeback, thought Jai, but it was a start.

‘Lovely,’ said Habib. ‘So, we’ll let you get on with your lunch. But perhaps we could all have dessert together later. We might as well plan it out this time since we seem to be bumping into each other everywhere?’

He looked around at the group’s stunned faces, quietly amused. No one seemed to be displaying any enthusiasm whatsoever.

‘We’re leaving for Pakistan in a few days, so it’s unlikely that we’ll see each other again,’ he continued, ‘And Inaya and I have discovered this fabulous little gelato place, which is less than five minutes away . . . ’