‘Get ready for World War III,’ said Inaya.

‘Oh, don’t worry. We’re in the same boat. Wait until my parents find out that Badi Ma has a Muslim brother, that too from Pakistan; all hell will break loose,’ said Jai with morbid glee.

Toshi gave Jai a playful whack on his arm. ‘So, she still does that arm whacking, huh?’ said Habib, watching them with a smile. ‘And Jai, is she still as competitive when you play games?’

‘Oh, you have no idea . . . ’ started Jai, and then his voice trailed off. He was still trying to grapple with the fact that this actually was his grandmother’s brother, someone who knew her idiosyncrasies—probably even better than he did. He felt a pang of possessiveness, almost. No one was allowed to know Badi Ma better than he did.

Habib turned to Toshi. ‘We didn’t get to finish our conversation that day, Toshi di. Do you all live in London?’

‘No, we live in New Delhi, and you must plan a visit soon, Loki.’

‘Life is so strange, Toshi di,’ said Habib. ‘My adopted parents migrated from New Delhi to Rawalpindi, and you did the reverse.’

‘All the more reason for you to come,’ said Toshi. ‘Tell me, is that pomegranate tree still there . . . the one we used to steal from? And do the fireflies still dance over the canal at night? And who lives in our house now?’

‘Yes, that tree and the fireflies are still very much there. Sadly, however, our house never got rebuilt after it burned down. They’ve built some small shops in its place. But what our neighbourhood is known for now is the first ever café outlet of Nabeel’s Kitchen. In fact, Nabeel Said is the reason we’re in London right now. She is sponsoring Inaya’s tape-ball tournament.’

Jai looked up sharply.

‘Nabeel Said of Nabeel’s Kitchen fame is spon—THAT Nabeel Said?’ A new-found respect for Inaya crept into Jai’s voice.

‘You know of Nabeel Said?’ returned Inaya, equally astounded. For the first time in her life, she looked at Jai with something approaching awe.

‘She has been my hero ever since I read about her in a magazine four years ago,’ said Jai. ‘I want to open a chain of cafés like her one day, and serve up food that reminds us of our grandmothers’ cooking, but with a modern twist—just like she does. Why do you think I was so desperate to try her haleem rolls?’

‘I just assumed that you were a glutton,’ shrugged Inaya.

Jai ignored her and carried on, ‘I would kill to get the recipe for them.’

‘Would you like to meet her?’

Jai’s eyes widened as his head swam in a heady cocktail of disbelief and anticipation, ‘Can you actually introduce me to Nabeel Said?’

‘Sure. What are you doing tomorrow afternoon? Drop in during my match. She’ll be there,’ said Inaya, coolly.

Meanwhile, Toshi and Habib hadn’t heard a word of the conversation between their grandchildren, engrossed as they were in catching up on the three score years that they had lost out on. Jai looked at them and then turned back to Inaya. ‘Do you know this makes us cousins?’ he whispered.