He had not thought that Jivan would resist him. He had thought only of the wound to Jivan’s pride in not asking for his permission. “I cannot spare time to go home and fetch a wife,” Karak said. But it was more than that; he would not have gone if he could. Something about Rosa made him feel free, unburdened by his past.

Jivan frowned. “Yes, I had the luxury to travel to Punjab. It is true.” He turned abruptly and walked back toward the house, leaving Karak there, standing alone by the pond. The water shone like blood under the sunset. He turned and followed Jivan.

“I did not mean to offend, bhai-ji.”

Jivan did not look at him. They walked together across the crusted earth. “I give you my permission, Karak,” he finally said, without enthusiasm.

Karak hesitated. “Thank you, bhai-ji.”

“I went to fetch Kishen in 1910 and bring her back. There was no risk then. I could go without the British government forcing me to stay in India. And the Americans allowed me to reenter without any restriction.” He was explaining something to Karak that he did not need to explain. “It was a different time.”

“Even if I could, I will not return to Punjab, bhai-ji,” Karak said. “I have no one there except my mother. I will leave to my brothers the few acres I have. Better that I marry and settle here. They will be happy too. They cannot survive without the money I send.”

Jivan stared at him. “You have my blessing, Karak. Go and do the needful.”

Karak would have married Rosa anyway, regardless of what Jivan said. But he felt a weight lift from his shoulders that he had not known he was carrying.

FOR TWO WEEKS, Ram kept his distance from him. After Karak had returned from the first dinner at Rosa’s home, Ram did not ask about it. “They served chicken,” Karak had said, as they cleaned out the packing shed the following day.

“What?”

“They served chicken.” He glared at Ram. He picked up the toolbox and headed for the house, leaving Ram staring after him. He would not stand for the arrogance of a man who already had a wife and son to deny that to another.

That evening, when Karak was bathing in the ditch, Ram came for his bath too. “I mean only that you will lose yourself if you marry her. You know what they say at home, about the mixing of people. Your ancestors will curse you, and your descendants will too. She is outside of our society.”

“Perhaps you have forgotten, Ram. I am not Hindu.”

“I am reminding you of the dignity of the dastar you wear.”

“I know about dignity. We do not believe as you do.” He saw Ram flinch. After all, Ram had never known his father, a Sikh man who was said to have died a hero in battle. He knew the words would hurt.