“Jeeta, is he from the orphanage?”

Before I could answer, Mohini said, “Let’s have coconut milk.”

“I’m going to find the biggest coconut,” Chiraj said. He grabbed Vivek’s hand and they ran ahead of us.

“Thanks,” I said to Mohini.

That afternoon, when Mummy, Mohini, and I went shopping, I ate kulfi. Mohini warned me against it, but the sun was burning me, and the thought of cold, vanilla-flavored kulfi melting on my tongue made me ignore her advice. It was creamy smooth and ice cold. A half an hour later my stomach rumbled, and it seemed like the food was climbing back up my throat. Mummy took me to Nimita’s house, which was only five minutes from where we were. I lay down and rested for an hour.

Nimita begged Mummy, “Please, have a snack or at least a cup of tea. Otherwise you’ll get a headache.”

“Don’t talk nonsense like a pagel. I will not have food at your house. I had a glass of water and that’s enough for me. My mother never touched a drop of water at our house,” she said proudly.

“Is it bad luck to eat at your own daughter’s house?” I asked.

“No, it’s not bad luck.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Why do you eat my head with senseless questions?”

“I don’t understand why you won’t eat at Nimita’s house,” I said.

“Don’t you see? Nimita belongs to Girishji now. I won’t take from her.”

“Will you take from Chiraj and Vivek after they get married?” Of course she would take from them. I knew that, but sometimes I pretended that I didn’t. Mummy knew what I was doing and was furious.

“Choop ker. You’re a pagel. Don’t you see any difference between a son and a daughter? A son keeps his family’s name and he belongs to his family forever. People pray to have sons. Who takes care of us while we are alive and cremates us when we die? Our sons do. Tomorrow all of you girls will take new names, but not my Chiraj and Vivek.”

“We learned in science that both boys and girls get genes from their mother and father. They should be treated the same.”

“This is not a science class,” Mummy said, closing her eyes.

“In some parts of the world the women carry the family name; they’re called matriarchal societies. In some places right here in India, it’s like that. Do you suppose they aren’t allowed to take from their sons’ houses?”

“You lie there quietly. If it weren’t for you we wouldn’t be here.”

I knew the tone of Mummy’s voice too well to argue. I stopped talking and began thinking. What kind of logic was this? Didn’t Mummy and Pappa give Nimita and Girishji this one-room home?