When I got home all I wanted to do was to take a bath, eat, and go to bed. But for the past month there had been a shortage of water, and we were getting water only for one hour in the morning, so there wasn’t enough to take a bath in the evening. I would wash my face, hands, and feet, and drink a glass of cold buttermilk with roasted ground cumin and a little salt. Then I would fall asleep as I tried to study for the next day’s exams, and have nightmares about them.

For the whole week I avoided the Times of India and the Janmabhoomi Pravasi. At exam time they always had reports of students throwing themselves in front of fast-coming trains or jumping off rooftops. Finally the exams were over. I had been so used to going to Sarina’s house to study, it felt strange to spend an entire weekend at home.

We continued to follow the same routine on Sundays with Girishji and Nimita coming over for a big lunch. Now that my exams were over, I helped Mummy with the cooking. The kitchen was as hot as coal-burning sagdi, and I felt like I was a cob of corn getting roasted. As the perspiration plastered my blouse onto my back, I wondered why I’d bothered to take a bath that morning.

Nimita was very pregnant, very round, and very happy. Her stomach protruded below her blouse. Instead of wearing the light georgette and chiffon that she usually wore in summer, she wore heavier cotton saris. It helped, but did not completely hide her stomach. She ate a lot, too. Now Mummy fussed over both Girishji and Nimita.

Nimita moved slowly and clumsily. Every time she asked for something, Girishji would spring like a windup toy. Nimita said that in the morning when the smell of dal and spices made her sick to her stomach, Girishji would cook for her.

While Mummy and I cooked, Nimita and Girishji played cards or carrom with Chiraj and Vivek. I could hear their laughter and it made me happy. Sometimes, when Nimita was feeling fine, she would come and sit in the kitchen with us, and Girishji would talk to Pappa or teach Chiraj and Vivek how to play chess. I wished Mohini were there, too.

Nimita had a glow that Mummy said came from carrying a new life, but I felt it was also from Girishj’s attention and love. I realized how much I liked Girishji now.

On Sunday afternoons, instead of embroidering, Mummy would ask me to read the Bhagavad Gita. She wanted the baby to hear good words and for Nimita to think pleasant thoughts. That way the soul that came would be a good soul. I wondered what kind of naughty thoughts Mummy had had when she was carrying me.