On my birthday I’d stuff myself with the ladu Mummy made, and couldn’t settle down until Pappa came home. He always gave me gold or silver jewelry, and made me guess what it was until I got it right. Mummy thought it was a childish game, but Pappa and I had been playing it on my birthday ever since I could remember. I told Mummy, “Pappa and I will play it even when I’m forty and Pappa’s an old man.”

But this summer my thoughts were so stuck on Neel, I almost missed my own birthday.

“I’d like to have South Indian food,” I told Mummy.

“Then that’s what I’ll make.”

Mummy’s Gujarati food, which we ate every day, was delicious, but her South Indian food—crispy dhosa, steamed rice, and lentil cakes called idli, and spicy soup called sambhar—didn’t taste like it should.

“Can we go out for dinner?”

“Out? What’s wrong with my food?”

“There is a new restaurant called the Shree Café. It’s on the way to the swimming pool and it smells so good when we walk by.”

I didn’t think Pappa was paying any attention to our conversation until he said, “How would you like to go to the fanciest place you’ve ever been?”

“Where?”

“Mummy and I will take you to the Taj.”

“To the Taj?” Mummy said. “She isn’t the only sister of seven brothers. If you spoil her, who would carry her burden?”

“It’s my birthday.” I said.

“So? Are you the first in the family to have a birthday? It’s not like you have hunted a tiger, you know.”

“If I’d hunted a tiger you’d have to bring me food in jail. It’s illegal to hunt a tiger.”

“O mara bap! You exhaust me like none of my children do,” Mummy said, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Purnima, if you’re already exhausted, I don’t want you to cook. Let’s take Jeeta out to eat,” Pappa said, and winked at me.

I thought about going to the Taj with Mummy and Pappa. I’d been in the hotel’s lobby once, with its shiny marble floors and sparkling chandeliers, to buy pastries. It had made me nervous to walk across the floor, thinking I was going to ruin the place.

To go to the restaurant in the Taj would be special, but the prices on the menu would steal my appetite. And what would the three of us talk about? Mummy and I would probably just land in a jungle of arguments.

I asked Pappa if we could all go to the Shree Café for dinner instead, and he said yes.

When I found out Girishji couldn’t come with us because he had an office party to go to, I was happy. I felt mean and guilty about being happy, but I couldn’t help it.