‘He is only proposing to rent a house, not to buy one. You can try.’ With that, her father was gone.

‘Tell Sanju you can’t move. You father once wanted to move to Singapore but I refused.’ Her mother said with finality.

‘That was a great opportunity that I missed.’ Her father yelled from somewhere.

Anu’s grandmother, now drying her hair vigorously with a towel, chimed in. ‘Tell Sanju that I might die any time and so you can’t move.’

‘You said the same thirty years ago to foil our Singapore plans.’ Only Anu heard her father mutter as he passed by.

Anu suddenly felt very dejected and her eyes began to well up. ‘None of you are taking me seriously. I am the only one who is fighting to stay back.’

Anu’s mother handed her a cup of coffee. ‘Men always make these outrageous plans. It won’t happen, Anu.’

Her grandmother squeezed her hand. ‘I will pretend to get admitted to a hospital. My friend Rathnamma’s daughter owns one. Then how can he ask you to move?’

Anu sighed. Her father was too practical, grandmother too impractical, and mother in complete denial. It was her battle now. She considered talking to Sanju’s parents but dismissed the thought. They preferred to simply go along with whatever their beloved son proposed. Only Padma aunty could put some sense into Sanju, although she might also convince him to marry someone else. Some battles have to be fought alone because the outcome of it affects only you.

Anu walked on aimlessly through the Vijaynagar main road that evening. She ate Masalpuri at her usual corner (the cook knew she liked it mildly spiced without sweet chutney,) drank Mosambi juice from her regular joint (the shop-keeper knew how she liked it—only fruit, no water, no ice and one spoon of sugar), bought a kurti from a street vendor—well, Anu didn’t know him but he still sort of favoured her over a hoard of other customers.

While heading back home, Anu stopped before an ice cream shop feeling all nostalgic. That was where Sanju had proposed to her. From then to now, the shop had severely shrunk. Once big and airy, it was now reduced to a nook with two chairs. The bigger area had been rented out to a mobile outlet. But the owner was the same.

Anu smiled at him. ‘Hi.’

He looked at her intently. ‘You are Balakrishna sir’s daughter. How are you?’

Everyone in that area either knew her or her family. Anu called Sameer. ‘At the ice cream shop. Will you come?’

Squeezing inside the nook, Sameer frowned at Anu. ‘Ice cream? We are not in high school anymore, Dorothy.’

Anu laughed. ‘The only literary reference you can make!’