“Why do we need to know about the way he treats his family or how his family treats others?” Daraja asks.

“Well, if we can remove Baarish from power, someone else will have to step up. If we know what his family dynamics are, we may be able to guide someone who doesn’t want to kill Taraana to fill Baarish’s position. It seems prudent for us to see what kind of people his family are, as well,” Paheli says.

“Isn’t this going to be dangerous?” Sevda asks. She’s sitting on the edge of her seat, looking ill at ease.

“If you don’t feel up to it, you can stay behind tomorrow,” Valentina reminds her.

“No, I was just asking,” Sevda says, a blush staining her cheeks.

The conversation falters for a bit, and we turn our attention to the Taj Mahal gleaming in the distance.

“It’s so beautiful,” Widad says, sighing. “People call it the greatest testament to love.”

“People need to remember it’s a tomb.” Kamboja sneers. “A tomb, in case you didn’t hear me the first time.”

“How did the empress die?” Areum asks. “Don’t look at me like that, Talei. The lives of dead royalty are hardly the most important parts of the history I need to know.”

“She died giving birth to her fourteenth child,” Daraja answers her.

Fourteen children. That poor woman.

“He should have loved her a little less so she could have lived a little more,” Etsuko muses out loud.

“What is love, do you think?” Areum asks.

“Mangoes. Unlimited mangoes,” Paheli promptly replies.

Valentina rolls her eyes. “Love is peril.”

Paheli nods. “And mangoes.”

“I miss going out on dates,” Sevda says softly. “And meadows filled with flowers.”

“I can ask Eulalie to magic us a meadow,” Paheli offers.

Sevda shakes her head. “It’s okay.”

“You know what I miss?” Ligaya asks, leaning against a chair. She doesn’t give us a chance to answer. “Periods.”

We stare at her.

“Periods?” Areum chokes.

“Periods.” Ligaya nods.

“Kick her out of here,” Kamboja says, standing up. “Take her star!”

Areum pounces on Ligaya, tickling her, and the rest of us join in, until Ligaya is screaming for mercy. Our periods stop as soon as the stars embed in our palms. Time stops for us biologically, so periods, too, become a memory.

Does the absence of periods make a question of our femininity?

Observations, Conversations, and Hot Parantha