After the hundreds of close friends and distant cousins departed, Nala and Rajan retired to their bedroom. A thoughtful aunty had thrown frangipani flowers over the bed, and Nala’s mother had left a tumbler of warm milk on the nightstand.

She reached prettily for the silver cup: her dowry bangles falling over themselves to her slim wrists, disrupting the graceful movement she was attempting. She passed the tumbler to Rajan as her mother had instructed her.

He cleared his throat nervously, drank the cup of milk and handed it back to her. There was a piece of sugar candy at the bottom to sweeten it. It shone dully, like an unpolished diamond. She wanted to pull it out and eat it, but he was looking at her.

Until now, she had understood, even enjoyed her part in the wedding ceremony, but in the quiet of their bedroom, she wondered what would happen next. How should they begin a life together? Amma had reassured her that Rajan’s years of medical training would have prepared him properly for his duties. Apparently he had done a rotation in obstetrics and even won a prize in midwifery.

She looked hopefully at her husband. Her black curls were fighting to release themselves from the elaborate but dying flower arrangement. She would need his help to remove the jewels that were woven into her braid. She blushed at the thought of his fingers in her hair.

‘Thank you for the milk, Nala,’ he said finally. ‘You must be very tired.’ He moved to the far side of the room and quickly changed into the plain sarong and night shirt he had brought with him. He got into their bed and turned his back to her, leaving her, still wrapped and trapped in her heavy wedding clothes.

•

After two weeks, Nala began to worry. The couple had moved into Rajan’s parents’ home in Wellawatte, only six blocks from her parents. Every evening he would return from work and the family ate dinner together. Her mother-in-law, Devaki, served the food, heaping steaming hot curries onto her father-in-law and Rajan’s plates. As both men began to eat, Devaki would motion to Nala to join them. She served her own plate and only started to eat when her mother-in-law did. After the meal, she and Rajan would retire to their room, where he read and then formally wished her good night.

By the third week, she decided it was time to seek advice. She visited her own family daily, often meeting them at the nearby Pillayar Temple for a chat and a quick prayer. On one such visit, she quietly pulled her grandmother aside and confessed her concern.

‘Archi, it’s been weeks since the wedding and … nothing has happened,’ she began tentatively.

‘Nala, it’s far too early for you to be pregnant,’ her grandmother replied.