In the kitchen, Seema succumbs to irritability. Surely Tahera is keeping everybody waiting to call attention to how namaz is more important to her than the dinner she’d spent all day cooking for Seema’s friends. Like the martyr Tahera used to like playing as a girl.

“I’m hungry,” Seema frets. “At this rate, I’ll be in labor by the time she finishes.”

Nafeesa looks: Tahera is still moving through her prayers. It would be unseemly to start dinner without her—especially since the dinner owes its existence to her—but Nafeesa is nettled by Tahera’s disregard for their guests. She decides: “Why don’t you and your friends start? I’ll wait for Tahera. She won’t mind.”

Fiaz demurs, but she ignores him. The aroma of biryani fills the room as she transfers the fragrant rice and mutton to a serving dish.

Fiaz breathes in the aroma, his chest and frame expanding as though to suck in all the air in the room, a smile on his face. “How can I say no to this?”

Nafeesa is gratified. “Eat, eat,” she urges. “I hope it’s to your liking.”

She searches for bigger chunks of meat to serve him and Seema. And Leigh as well—at first hesitantly, unsure if Leigh likes Indian food, and then with growing assurance as Leigh praises the dishes.

Satisfied, she settles down to watch them eat. The way they pass the food around, the way their eyes exchange smiles—like a family, she thinks. Something intimate is being shared, without words, through the very harmony that permeates their eating together.

Tahera faces the quiet dark of the living room corner. Behind her is laughter, the sounds and smells of a celebration, from which she is excluded. She can picture the scene, as if she were observing by the kitchen door: Seema and her lover and her friend all focused on their plates until the first throes of hunger and desire are sated, while Ammi, having prepared the feast, would barely be eating, her eyes more on their faces than on her own plate, feeding off their pleasure. A new family coming together.

Whatever be the rewards in the afterlife, Tahera has no doubts now that she is to be punished here on earth, shunned by family and country alike, for never straying from the straight path, while Seema, who has only ever pursued her own desires, is to be feted, rewarded with this new family. And soon the pleasures of a son, while Tahera is to be left with the pain of failing hers, which too could be traced back to the day Seema walked out of their home. The evening fires from the rooftop may have diminished, but now they spark and flame again, only this time with anger.

31

Grandmother, you hear Tahera finally moving around in the living room and you call out, “Tahera, come to eat. We’re waiting for you.”

There’s no response, and you decide to check on your daughter.