Ram grabbed Vansh’s nose with his chubby fist, an act of solidarity Vansh appreciated. He pulled away and blew into his nephew’s pillowy stomach, making him giggle. “Already my man is holding his own amid all these scary women.

“‘I’m not afraid of them,’” he added in baby Ram’s voice. “‘I have a gavel like my daddy.’”

India and Esha spurted laughter. Even their grandmother laughed. Nisha kicked Vansh without stopping in her chewing. “Look, Ram, your uncle is wearing one of your shirts.”

They all thought that was terribly funny too and guffawed some more.

“Don’t listen to them,” he said to his nephew. “It’s a muscle shirt. It’s supposed to be fitted to your muscles. But old people don’t know that.”

He sat down next to Esha, crossed his legs, and settled Ram in his lap.

“You look well,” Esha said. She always said that to him, and it made him happy because it seemed to make her so happy when she said it. Then she frowned, studying his face. “Whom did you fight with?” Did he mention Esha was clairvoyant?

“Disagreement over work with someone.” It was always best to stick with the truth with Esha. Everyone in his family had a sixth sense about when he lied, but Esha’s clairvoyance was foolproof.

“Work? Are you leaving again? So soon?” Nisha asked, not looking happy at the prospect. Usually, any attempt from the family to keep him from taking off made Vansh restless. Today, it felt nice.

“No, actually I’m thinking about staying for a bit.”

Nisha studied his face, eyes brightening, then getting skeptical. “A bit? Like how much a bit?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided.”

Nisha and Esha sat up excitedly.

“Vansh! That’s amazing,” Nisha said. “That’s the best news ever!”

“It is,” Esha said. “It is a really good choice.”

Until Esha said it, Vansh hadn’t realized that there had been a prickle of doubt nudging at him. Now he felt like this was exactly what he needed to do.

J-Auntie brought up Vansh’s salad, and after some good-natured but still entirely too nosy ribbing about his “himbo” eating habits, he ate in peace as they watched Ram try to jam a precocious fist into his own mouth.

When India came back out after helping Aji to her room with her achy knees, Nisha asked when Siddhartha was getting in. India’s brother, Siddhartha, was an award-winning wildlife photographer who had spent the past eight months in Papua New Guinea photographing birds. Vansh had never met him, but he felt an odd kinship with him. Two men with wanderlust and a higher purpose.