Nala thought about Rajan, who vowed to disavow his only son but could not; instead giving Nandan the Hindu and Buddhist weddings he had asked for. He chose to embrace the marriage, not just tolerate it.

Siva and Priya would learn to do the same; they would learn because there was no other way forward. These things just take time, she thought to herself, taking the abandoned knife from the cutting board. She adjusted her glasses and slowly, less uniformly, finished cutting the onions for dinner.

•

‘Oh, Dhara,’ Priya cried. ‘What are we going to do? He thinks he’s in love!’

She gave Dhara a summary of the problem unfolding in Sydney, between sobs of disappointment. She wiped the phone; it was covered in tears and onion.

‘We are going to calm down, and by that I mean you. You are going to calm down. The best-case scenario is that this is just a passing fancy. If you try to forbid the relationship, he’ll go all Romeo and Juliet on you and that ended badly for everyone.’

‘Dhara, this is no time for jokes!’ she tried to stifle her laugh.

‘I’m not joking!’ her sister replied. ‘You need to think strategically, not hysterically. The worst-case scenario is that they get married and live happily ever after, which is actually a lot better than the Romeo and Juliet scenario. You’re on a good wicket, as Nandan would say.’

‘You’re not helping.’ She dried her tears and blew her nose into a tissue. More tears fell. ‘Plus, I’m not taking advice from my interracially married younger brother.’

‘Your happily married younger brother. Acca—just give Vivek time to work out what he wants. He’s a sensible boy; he’ll do the right thing. It might not be the thing that you wanted or expected or planned for him. But he’ll do it well, and if you ever want to see your future grandchildren, you’ll support him,’ Dhara replied, trying not to laugh.

‘My future grandchildren are going to be called Carmela, Sofia and Luca!’ Priya managed to laugh at herself, if not her predicament. ‘How did you become so wise and Western?’ She could finally speak clearly; her voice was congested but steady.

‘It’s one of the many benefits of not having to do the hard work myself, Acca,’ Dhara replied softly.

‘You do different work, Dhara. How is everything there?’ she asked her sister carefully.

‘Same as usual. How is Smrithi?’

‘Same as usual,’ Priya replied, distracted from one worry by another. ‘She’s an adult now—a woman. She deserves to know, Dhara. I think she senses something isn’t right between her and me. She must know, on some level, surely …’

‘Everything is as it should be between the two of you, Acca. Mothers and daughters fight. It’s a rule. I think I read that somewhere in the Vedas,’ Dhara replied.