At Priya’s request, the entire family was meeting at the local temple in Homebush for Tamil New Year. Nala was a little excited; it was a dormant emotion that had slowly resurrected itself. She liked the Western habit of making resolutions on the 31st of December, but by the 3rd of January she had usually broken hers. Having a New Year in April gave her a second chance to ‘be nicer to Rajan, don’t let the children upset me so much, remember to pray for Rajan’s family …’

Smrithi ironed a sari for her; plain lavender with a silver-grey border. It was a gift from one of Priya’s numerous trips to Madras years ago. According to Priya, the colours were ‘too young’ for Nala now, but she didn’t care.

Nala couldn’t even bend forward properly to pleat and set her own sari anymore. Smrithi did it all for her, pinning the layers the way Nala had taught her two decades ago. Her granddaughter placed a fake bun in her hair, wrapped her thinning, dyed curls around it, and pinned a fine hairnet over it all. Finally, she arranged Nala’s wedding chain, moving the pendant to the front, and added a few bangles to her grandmother’s pale arms. She stepped back.

‘You’re still a beautiful woman, Ammamma,’ she said.

‘Do you think so, darling?’ Nala laughed, pleased.

Smrithi parked the car and helped her get out.

Nala noticed the fast clatter of the Parramatta train line heading west. Every single face on the street was Tamil. She tried not to think about the face that was missing.

Sandwiched between stocky, red-brick apartment blocks, the temple in Homebush was adequate. She preferred the much grander temple in Westmead or even the one in Wollongong. Rajan said that God was everywhere and he would rather pray at home, but reluctantly joined them on the regular trips to the temple. Her great-grandchild, Rishi, Smrithi’s son, was surprisingly up-to-date on Vedic philosophy for a five-year-old and he assured her that his great-grandfather was indeed correct.

‘God is everywhere,’ Rishi explained. ‘You don’t have to worship Him in a temple.’

Nala was a devout Hindu who had prayed happily in temples and churches her entire life. She didn’t need to be lectured by a child. She knew that all gods were one and that He could be worshipped anywhere, including in the comfort of one’s own home in one’s own sarong, as Rajan preferred. However, she looked forward to going to the temple.