‘I already have a family,’ Dhara replied.

‘You could be a wife …’ Priya said.

‘No. No one will marry me after what happened. I’m fine about it, really I am. The Gita says disappointment is just disappointment. It’s one of many temporary emotions. I’ve grown used to it and the freedom it gives me. I’m comfortable with my life now, Acca. I have everything I need.’

‘I can’t believe you’re quoting the Gita,’ Priya replied. ‘You could be a mother, Dhara. There’s still time. I wouldn’t blame you if you asked for her—she’s always been yours. I feel like I’ve just borrowed her.’

‘Don’t cry, Acca. You shouldn’t feel that way. Nothing is borrowed between us. We are the Pandavas—everything is shared. You are the mother and I am—I am a soldier.’

Priya didn’t say anything.

‘Are you sure you brought enough clip-on koalas this time?’ Dhara asked, lining up the small toys.

Priya wiped her nose and tried to smile. ‘Ayah asked for them.’

‘Do you think she might be running a clip-on koala business on the side?’

Priya laughed a little and reached over to her sister. They held each other before pushing each other away.

•

Vivek’s eyes widened as Smrithi emptied the pot of holy ash on the carom board. A grey mist rose from the board game, making them both cough. Ayah was in charge of the children. From the verandah, the children could hear the clatter and clang of her daily meal preparation in the kitchen next door. Smrithi put her finger up to her lips, motioning to him to be quiet.

‘Are you sure you’re supposed to do that?’ he whispered.

‘Yes, I’m sure. The board needs powder to help the pieces slide,’ she replied, rolling her eyes at him.

‘The board needs a particular kind of powder to help the pieces slide, mahal,’ Dhara spoke, laughing as the startled children instinctively moved in front of their crime.

She had been watching them for a little while. She could have stopped them and saved Nala’s pot of holy ash. The powder had been respectfully brought all the way from Thirupathi Temple in South India. Nala would not be happy, but Dhara liked to watch the children play.

‘Mami, you won’t tell on us, will you?’ Smrithi asked, giving her a well-practised smile.

‘No, mahal, not this time,’ she replied, squeezing the little girl’s cheeks. They compressed like Ayah’s pineapple fluff pudding, then sprang back to their delicious place.

‘Can you teach us how to play carom, please?’ Vivek asked, eyeing the game eagerly.

Dhara nodded and began to assemble the black-and-white wooden discs on the board. It was the size of a cards table but made of lacquered plywood, and marked with lines like a square tennis court. In each corner was a hole.