‘Saturn is moving out of the fifth house, the house for family and children.’ He tapped the fifth box. ‘Jupiter is moving into this house next month. You will be blessed with sons soon. These things, they are written in the planets, thangachi, and when the planets move, our destiny moves too. Your sons will come.’ The old man patted Amma’s hand and left the room.

Nala grabbed Mohan and raced around the house to watch the astrologer leave. They ducked beneath the large verandah and crawled, until they were almost under the old man and her father.

‘Stay back, Nala, they’ll see you,’ Mohan whispered. She laughed; he was constantly afraid of getting in trouble. ‘Your father will get angry!’ Nala wasn’t afraid of her father; she was his favourite.

‘All the very best for your move, thambi,’ said the astrologer. ‘God bless you, and be safe in Colombo; things are changing in the south.’

Colombo? What was the old man talking about? She had never been to the capital city. Appa tried to pay him but the old man shook his head and put his hands together to say goodbye. Appa did the same. She laughed again; the men looked like they were praying to each other.

‘Shh, Nala!’ Mohan whispered. ‘What’s wrong with you? I’m going to get a caning, and you will too if you’re not careful. This is no laughing matter.’ Mohan sounded just like his father, making her laugh once more, this time louder.

As the astrologer walked down the verandah steps, Archi came running out and gave him a tiffin carrier. Nala could smell the fried okra through the steel. She wondered what other curries the compartments contained.

‘Careful, it’s hot. Thank you again, Iyah,’ Archi said as she handed the old man the food.

Appa stood on the steps and watched the astrologer walk slowly away. Without looking down at the children, he said, ‘Nalayini, why don’t you go and sit with Amma? She’s feeling a little better; she could do with your company. You too, Mohan, your back must be hurting.’ He smiled as he walked back into the house.

Colombo, 1937

Nala inspected her brothers. The babies stared back, blankly. They looked like two dumplings with their puckered, shiny faces and lazy folds of paper-white skin. She wanted to touch the hair that feathered their bodies. It looked soft.

Amma said, ‘No touching, not yet, they’re too small.’ She meant special. Whenever Amma wasn’t looking, she inched her face closer to theirs. She wanted to smell them. She had seen her mother pick the babies up and place her nose in the space between their jaw and neck. Amma would close her eyes, breathe deeply and sigh. Nala wanted to try.

Amma saw her. ‘Move back, Nala,’ she placed a hand on her shoulder and gently but firmly pushed her away. ‘They need air.’