Her schizophrenic but brilliant uncle has to return from abroad, his distraught wife cannot cope with his condition alone any more. Her family comes down to the ground floor from the fifth floor where they live to talk to dadi and dada. Her father says, ‘You did not tell us of his condition when you came with the proposal. True, we were impressed by his educational qualifications, his intelligence, his career prospects. But you should not have withheld such important information from us, how is a girl’s father ever to know of a prospective groom’s mental status if it is not immediately obvious?’

Someone loftily replies, ‘It was not obvious because it was not so bad, in fact it was not bad at all. Perhaps you should ask your daughter what she has done to worsen his condition. Men improve after marriage, you know.’

The father looks hard at dadi and dada, ‘I am not one of those men who will allow their child to suffer just so that the world does not get a chance to talk. My daughter is now like an unpaid nurse to your son, that is all her life has become. I am sending her an air ticket, she will divorce your son, that is that.’

All that loftiness rapidly hisses out of the room, like air from a balloon.

Quickly, in double time, a decision is taken. Bring him back to India with his wife, they will stay in this house, they will both be safe here, dadi can help in keeping an eye on him so that the wife gets time to herself as well, her own family is just five floors above so won’t that be nice? They can move into the third room, that is the best room with light, air and privacy; the occupants of the third room can move into the second room with its cracked bathroom panes and tiles, dadi and dada will continue to live in the hall-cum-bedroom. They will take care of each other, protect each other, obey each other, they will be one big happy family. In this house, safe haven; this lie.

For the son with his wife and three daughters rent a small place in an old building somewhere down the road. To get the money to pay up on the enormous advance rent and house deposit, sell the Poona house.

It is a tiny, tiny bungalow, almost like a doll’s house in Poona, near the station, with a guava tree in the hanky-sized front garden. She loves it, all the holidays spent there are bliss. And now she must not even feel a wrench as it gets taken away from her so that she can go into another home where she will be safe. Away from this house, safe haven; this lie.

When they load the three haathgaadis with the family’s belongings, she swings up her youngest sister and sticks her on to a stool strapped onto one of them. She makes the haathgaadiwallah rock the handcart. Her sister squeals with delight, she feels her spirits lift. They will be happy, just their very own family in their very own house down the road.