She put her palette down; she had ruined the skin-brown and would need to start again. She braced herself for the conversation with Rajan. Talking about money made her nervous; sometimes talking to him about anything made her nervous. Before she could speak, Rajan began—‘I’ve asked your Amma to look for a husband. We mustn’t wait too long, Kamini is getting older. She will finish studying soon, and I’m sure she’s keen to start her own family. I told Amma that the dowry can come from your Appa. Your father wanted to do his duty. This house—his house—will be more than enough. I will pay for the wedding and other things. Kamini will have a good start in life, Nala.’

She tried to speak but he raised a hand, a gesture she usually found upsetting.

‘Your brothers,’ he continued, ‘they’re doing quite well in their exams—Sahadeva is better than Nakula as usual. Nakula spends too long on the track, running races and showing off to his friends. He doesn’t do all the extra homework I set him. He’ll need to buckle down for his A-levels. I told Amma that I will help with their university expenses.’

‘Rajan, I … don’t know what to say. Thank you—’ she stood up, unsure of how to express her gratitude, her relief. She wanted to put her arms around him, but he looked away.

‘There’s nothing to say,’ he said quickly, closing the sliver of a moment that had opened up between them. He cleared his throat as if the conversation had irritated it; the words a mucus that needed to be expelled. She resumed her seat behind the canvas.

‘One last thing, Nala—if we give this house to Kamini, then Amma and the twins can move in with us, when we set up our own home.’

‘Our own home?’ she repeated.

‘Yes, our own home. We need a little more space, and there will be … more children, God willing. We should move, don’t you agree?’ Before she could respond, he said, ‘I’ll stop talking now, so you can paint me; you can “capture my essence” if you wish.’

God willing.

More children.

Our own home.

She looked around the canvas to see if he was making fun of her. Rajan’s eyes were serious but his mouth soft. His dark skin was tinged by an unusual pink; he was the colour of palm sugar.

Annamalaiyar Temple, Tamil Nadu Province in South India, 1954

Nala breathed deeply, willing herself not to cry.