‘No, Dhara, in the Vedas you read: Mathru devo bhava—our first God is our mother.’ She felt the tears cloud her eyes and fall down her face again.

Mathru devo bhava.

‘She should have a chance to know you—as her mother.’

‘She already knows me and she loves me—it’s enough for me,’ her sister replied.

‘It’s not enough for me.’ It wouldn’t be enough for me, Priya wanted to say.

Mathru devo bhava.

How many times had she recited that at temple as a child? How many times had she looked at her daughter and whispered it to herself, begging God to forgive her for not telling Smrithi, begging Smrithi to forgive her.

Dhara spoke after a long while. ‘It’s enough, Acca,’ she said softly. ‘Mathru devo bhava. You are her mother. God forgives all things and so must you. Now put down the phone, stop crying and work out how to make friends with these Italians you might have to marry.’

•

After Vivek’s announcement, extended family members suggested more astrologers, threats and expedited arranged marriages. Shock eventually gave way to resignation and then concern that he might not actually marry the girl, shaming their family in front of the Italians.

‘My only concern is that the girl still doesn’t know how to cook a curry. That boy might starve,’ Nala declared, stacking slabs of butter cake in Priya’s freezer.

‘Amma, when you got married, you didn’t know how to cook a curry either,’ Priya replied.

Nala ignored her.

‘I’ve labelled all the cakes, mahal. There’s one for the Italians too. I don’t know what Vivek is waiting for, he needs to propose.’

‘Leave him be, Amma. He has time, it will happen. It’s Smrithi I’m worried about. I can’t even talk to her anymore. She won’t listen to me. She wants to study overseas now and she won’t meet a single boy we’ve suggested.’ Priya stretched another shirt over the ironing board and changed the setting.

Nala closed the freezer and inspected the fridge. ‘She’s only twenty-two years old, mahal. She has some time too. You can’t give Vivek space but refuse it to Smrithi, it isn’t fair.’

She hadn’t meant to say anything; the words just slipped out. Rajan said she lacked discretion and tact, which according to him was a bad combination of skills not to have. She said it was easy to have discretion and tact if you never opened your mouth.

‘It isn’t fair?’ Priya repeated. ‘It isn’t fair? You let Nandan do as he pleased but you made me follow the rules. Was that fair? Did Nandan ever once have to do what you wanted? Did he become a doctor like Appa wanted? Did he marry a Tamil girl like Appa wanted? Did he?’