Smashing the patriarchy is complicated business. It’s true that you can’t throw a punch without hurting your knuckles, but it’s time to stop telling women that it’s all or nothing, that it’s only valuable if it hurts.’ That was my favorite line, Mom,” Ashna said, telling her mother again how fabulous her award acceptance speech had been.

“When you and Rico have a baby girl, she can be whomever she wants to be,” Shobi said.

“So long as she’s badass. And plays soccer—okay, any sport. And doesn’t cut her hair. And takes over the restaurant. And her grandmother’s institute,” Ashna said with a laugh.

“Goes without saying.”

Mother and daughter sat on a Sagar Mahal terrace overlooking the cliff that dropped into the Arabian Sea, drinking tea and watching the waves crash into rocks. Ashna leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder. “If you had fallen in line, I’d have had a happy childhood. And I’d have married who you and Baba picked for me. It wouldn’t have been a bad life, but then we wouldn’t know what it’s like to love these two.”

Omar came up the cliff, the breeze ruffling his silver hair and squeezed Shobi’s shoulders and dropped a kiss on Ashna’s head. Then he proceeded to pour the tea Shobi handed him from a bone china cup into a black stoneware cup.

He dropped into a wicker chair across from them. “Kya guftagu chal rahi hai ma beti mein?” Whatever he said sounded incredibly poetic and Mom’s eyes went soft and hazy.

Every woman deserved that, Ashi was thinking when a wet face pressed into her cheek from behind. “Yuck, you’re all sweaty,” she said, and Rico shook his head and splattered some more sweat all over her.

Rico and Omar were supposed to have gone for a walk. “How much did you run? You’ll hurt your knee again.”

“I won’t. It’s good as new,” he said stubbornly and poured himself tea.

“I think the man is fully capable of gauging his own pain levels,” Mom said as Rico kissed her cheek and sank down on the marble floor between Ashna and Shobi.

“Thanks, Mom, I’m not doubting his capability.”

“And yet, you won’t let me swim because I get ear infections,” Omar said sagely into his tea. There was a warm strength to him, and Mom’s entire demeanor relaxed in his presence.

“That’s because you’re not thirty anymore. And you get cranky when you’re in pain,” Shobi said with the most ineffective frown, because her eyes were twinkling.

“But he’s old enough to know how to put some earplugs in his ears.” Ashna shook the hand Omar held out.