The music reached its peak, signalling that the auspicious moment had arrived. It was time for the guests to stop talking and pay attention. The music was loud enough to drown out the sounds of geckos and any other bad omens that might appear at the exact moment of marriage, the moment when Prashanth tied the thick gold wedding chain around Smrithi’s slender neck, bonding them together forever.

The wedding chain had been blessed by the married elders in the family, investing it with the power of all their dreams and hopes for the young couple.

Nala remembered how nervous Rajan had been when he reached around her with the chain. It was the first time he had touched the perfect line of her neck. His surgeon’s fingers, usually so precise, so sure of themselves, struggled clumsily with the complicated clasp. His dark hands shook against her much fairer, pristine skin. Amma had to help him. Standing behind them she had reached forward, and it was her, not Rajan, who sealed their marriage.

Nala’s hand wandered to her own neck, and she ran her fingers over its imperfect line. She looked for him in the front row and then she remembered. Sixty-four years—it was a lifetime.

Tomorrow she would make her famous crab curry for the family. He would like that.

‘Ammamma, Ammamma, help me,’ Smrithi whispered as Prashanth fumbled with the chain.

Nala said one more quick prayer, wishing her granddaughter all of the riches that had been bestowed upon her own married life—children and grandchildren, health and happiness. Her fingers were older than they were at the last wedding, but still steady. She reached down and quickly closed the clasp.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book has taken almost a decade to find its way, from my community’s memories to my chosen home.

To the team at Ultimo Press, most importantly to Robert Watkins, for valuing this story and for believing in my work.

To my family: Amma, Appa, Aunty Nalaini, Rajan Uncle, Narendran, Rachel, Noah, Tejas, Allegra, Mum, Rohan and Maria, the Rasanayagams, the K.Pillais and the Pintos. Some of us are gone, but there are still more than there used to be. That breaks my heart and fills it.

To my Book Club, Kate Kelly, Bekster, Nat, Havas, Franksy, Jay, Keda and Tara who read so many drafts.

To my Kunj. And our babies, Ellora, Kailash, Hari and Sid, think about the oor we came from, it’s more than a place. It is our ancestors’ gift to us. You hold it in the cells of your body.

Nandri.

Anbudan.

Shankari.

Shankari Chandran was raised in Canberra, Australia. She spent a decade in London, working as a lawyer in the social justice field. She eventually returned home to Australia, where she now lives with her husband, four children and their cavoodle puppy, Benji. She is the author of two previous novels, Chai Time at Cinnamon Gardens and The Barrier.