‘No, Nala—we’re not having this argument again. Oprah took that straight from Karna’s life. He was surrounded by the expectations and disappointment of others. His mother expected him to leave Duryodhana and fight with his Pandava brothers instead of against them. Duryodhana expected him to be loyal and defend him in battle. He was torn. In the end, Karna chose to embrace and follow his duty.’

‘But that’s exactly what Lord Krishna said to Arjuna on the battlefield. Oprah took it from the Bhagavad Gita,’ exclaimed Siva. ‘Lord Krishna said: Do your duty to the best of your ability, Arjuna. Focus only on that and detach yourself from everything else, from the consequences of your actions, from the rewards of your labour.’

Nala wasn’t interested in the Bhagavad Gita. ‘It was Oprah, not Lord Krishna or Karna. Oprah says you should know who you are and just own it. She’s a funny one, that woman. She’s not married either, but she’s very clever, like Smrithi. If you see her in America, tell her your mother said hello.’

London, 2003

When Smrithi announced her pregnancy, Priya packed her bags, stocked the freezer for Siva, and left for London, proposing to stay for three months.

‘I’m going to be helpful,’ she declared to her husband.

‘Why are you going four weeks early?’ he asked nervously.

‘To nurse her through her confinement, obviously. You can join me in London when you’ve finished writing letters to the UNHRC,’ she replied defiantly.

‘Whatever you do, don’t talk about the Hindu wedding,’ Nala warned her.

‘What Hindu wedding?’

In her hand luggage she carried a 5kg block of deep-frozen chocolate cake, Smrithi’s favourite, made for her by Shiranthi, and Tupperware containers of frozen aubergine curry from Nala.

As soon as she arrived, she rearranged Smrithi’s spice cupboard the way she liked it. She reorganised the fridge so the restorative cooking and bulk freezing could begin, explaining, ‘Smrithi, the coriander and cumin in sarrakku powder will heal and act as a natural antiseptic, the okra will lubricate your stools, in case of tearing and constipation, the garlic will release your uterine wind, and the shark meat helps breastmilk production. Everyone knows that.’

Everyone except her daughter.

Smrithi gave birth to a girl, Ahalya. The baby looked like a little bird, fresh from its shell. She was covered in a soft down of black hair with folds of skin hanging loosely over her tiny frame. She was mesmerisingly beautiful and terrifyingly fragile. The new parents and grandparents were in awe and in love.

Smrithi read books on birth, babies, and breastfeeding, and she had her own ideas on how to recover post-pregnancy, how to feed, and how and when to put the baby to sleep. Priya was amazed—why were there so many books on this topic? And who in God’s name made Gina Ford the boss of everything?