‘The Tamils will lose and then Dhara will lose more than her child, she will lose … more than she has already lost.’ He couldn’t speak for a moment. An orange robe of fire furled itself around the memory of Mohan. How many times could he hold a broken and bloodied woman? ‘We have to stop all of this now—the baby, the cause, the group she’s joined—all of it. I won’t allow it, Nala, I won’t allow it.’

‘You won’t allow it?’ she repeated. ‘You won’t allow it. You don’t understand, Rajan—she’s not our daughter. We can’t stop her. We love her—I love her,’ her voice broke. She took a deep breath and spoke again. ‘But we have never been able—we have never been allowed to stop her.’

‘It’s wrong,’ he repeated quietly, desperation creeping into his voice. ‘This baby—it will always be Dhara’s. Eventually, a mother always wants her child back—and what will they tell her, the baby? Think of the damage it will do to Smrithi, to Priya—to all of them, to all of us, Nala. Please, think of the damage,’ he pleaded.

‘The damage is already done, Rajan. This part, where a beautiful baby is loved by our daughter and remains part of our family—that is the only thing that feels right.’

Rajan shook his head in confusion and despair.

•

Dhara and Priya stood in Nala’s shrine room again. Dhara placed her finger in the pot of holy ash and touched Priya’s forehead and the baby’s. She had tried to flatten Smrithi’s erratic tufts of hair with sesame oil, giving her whole face a shine. The child looked at her closely, dark eyes fringed by long lashes.

‘You could style that into a frontal lobe puff, with enough Brylcreem,’ she said to Priya, not taking her eyes from the baby.

Priya didn’t laugh, nor did she wipe away the tears that streamed down her face.

‘Don’t cry, Acca,’ Dhara said. ‘It’s the right thing. This is no place for our daughter.’

‘Hold her again, please, Dhara,’ Priya whispered, pushing the child towards her. ‘It will never be too late to change your mind. She’s yours—the moment you tell me, I will bring her back to you.’

Dhara shook her head.

‘Just hold her one more time, she deserves to be held by you,’ Priya could barely speak.

Dhara took the child in her arms and traced the lines of her face one last time. It amazed her. She kissed the baby’s lips, smelling her breath. She handed her back.

‘Go, please. The car is waiting for you. I won’t come out. Call me when you arrive safely. Go quickly, Acca, it will be easier for me.’ She kissed her sister and her child one last time.

•