‘He’s only ten years old, let him be, there’s still time,’ she replied defensively. She didn’t deny that she indulged him, but Rajan did too, only differently. Nandan did, said, and wanted things that his sisters were not allowed—and her husband just looked away.

‘At his age, I was teaching myself human anatomy.’

‘At his age, you were a lot less fun.’ She rolled her eyes at him.

‘Priya should study medicine. She’d make an excellent doctor,’ he said.

‘She’d make a terrible doctor, Rajan. She doesn’t even like science.’

‘Still. We should talk to her about it.’

‘You can’t force her to do medicine because you want one of your children to be like you. Anyway, you know what happened to her in her dissection practical,’ she pleaded her daughter’s case.

‘Medicine is nothing like those practicals, although it’s a shame she’s so easily nauseated. She doesn’t have to do surgery, she’s a girl,’ he replied.

‘Exactly, she’s a girl. We should be looking for husbands for our daughters instead of pushing them to study,’ she said. ‘Priya will make a wonderful wife. She mothers anyone who comes near her. She has an instinct to look after people that could only come from you.’ She smiled winningly at him. It worked on other people.

‘Think of it this way, Nala: marrying a Tamil doctor is highly competitive—being a doctor would obviously give her a better chance of marrying a doctor herself.’

‘Ah, but she is the daughter of a doctor. She doesn’t need to study medicine herself!’ Nala refused to be outsmarted.

‘She could be wonderful at both. So many girls are going to university now. She’s clever—she could be more than an office clerk or a teacher,’ he replied.

Or a wife, she thought.

‘It’s getting harder to get into medicine these days,’ Nala tried again.

‘I know, but I can tutor her.’ As usual, he had an answer for everything.

‘It’s harder than it was in your day.’ She didn’t want to offend him but it was true. ‘There’s talk of a new system. Priya might need more marks than her Sinhalese friends to get into medical school—there are too many Tamils in the profession.’

‘I know, thank you, Nala. I read the papers too. Quotas will be introduced: one Tamil for every six Sinhalese students. I will tutor her and she will get in. I’ll talk to people.’ He rarely talked to people, he was fair and honest.

She thought about the conversation that was to come. Priya had already shown her the prospectus for home economics at Aquinas College. She loved cooking.

‘You always get what you want, Rajan,’ she said softly, bitterly.