‘I missed you at the Hellenic Club. We’ve just started the foxtrot. You can’t hide at home or the temple forever. You should let your friends help you,’ she said as she climbed over the fence. They had cut a hole in the hedge and placed stools on either side so they could do this easily. Helen hugged her tightly.

‘She’ll come round, Priya. It’s just going to take some time. Next week I’m going to pick you up for dance class. It took forever to convince you to join, there’s no way I’m letting you drop it.’

Priya hugged her back. Together they finished feeding the birds and prayed to Saturn one last time before Helen returned over the fence. Priya went inside and checked her answering machine. There were no messages.

When Vivek and Smrithi left home, Siva and Priya accepted the solitude, resentfully at first, and later comfortably. Priya took over Smrithi’s old room with her saris, and Siva took over Vivek’s old room with his books. Suddenly both of them had more space in their lives.

They built new routines around themselves. Every Tuesday night and Saturday morning they went to the temple at Westmead. It was a beautiful building, a stone-carved temple, not a community hall. Siva taught scripture and Priya joined the ladies wing, attending yoga classes and making garlands with her friends.

Every Thursday morning she went to swimming classes with her friend Malathy. On Wednesday nights she went to dance classes with Helen; and every Friday night she spoke to Dhara. For years, Siva and Priya went wherever they felt like, from the local Chinese restaurant to Antarctica.

When Smrithi returned from London, Priya changed her life again. She converted Smrithi’s old room into a playroom. She built new routines around her grandchildren and helped Smrithi look after them. Until now.

Smrithi refused to see her. All the years, the decades of sacrifice, of love, were erased by a lie—a lie that had been told out of sacrifice and love. They had hurt Smrithi, all of them—Nala, Dhara, Siva and Priya—but Priya had hurt Smrithi the most. She loved her the most too, that she was sure of.

Home alone, the void left by Dhara gaped ever wider in Smrithi’s absence. The playroom was empty. She couldn’t even enter it. The toys she’d retrieved from their attic didn’t remind her of her grandchildren. They reminded her of her children.

She didn’t want to change her life again. She wanted to take Ahalya and Rishi to the park and show them the rainbow lorikeets play. She wanted to take them to McDonald’s and temple and swimming parties and all the places that made this their home. Her home.