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.“Want one?” she asked me, her mouth dripping with red saliva.I nodded gleefully and ignored the look Ma gave me.When I was a child there was no way she would have allowed me to eat paan, but now I was twenty-seven years old and I could have betel nuts and more.“My older sister didn’t get married until she was thirty-one,” Neelima offered in support.“In our family we don’t let our daughters chase and marry men from other castes,” Ammamma said as she chewed noisily on the paan.“Here.” She gave me a paan that I stuck inside my mouth with the hope that I would not speak up against the injustice.“She had an arranged marriage,” Neelima countered, and let her knife drop on the wooden cutting board.I saw the tears in her eyes and once again forced myself not to say anything.I was here for just a few days and I didn’t want to get into any unnecessary fights.In any case once they heard about Nick, Neelima would start looking really good to the family.At least she was Indian and I knew that counted for something.A friend of mine, who had now been relegated to being only an acquaintance, had been appalled when I told him about Nick.His instant reaction was “How can you, Priya? He’s not even Indian” as if that made him a cat or a dog.“If your sister had an arranged marriage, why didn’t you?” Lata asked Neelima.“You married Anand in a great hurry.Did you think what would happen to Sowmya here? Who will marry her now? The brother got married and the sister is still sitting at home.”“She hasn’t gotten married for ten years,” Neelima cried out.“How long were we supposed to wait? We waited two years but she was not getting a match.That isn’t my fault.” She stood up and rushed outside to the veranda.Sowmya used the edge of her sari to wipe her face of sweat and probably tears.The heat in the room was increasing by the minute and the fact that all the windows and doors were left open was not helping.Added to that, the slow creaky fan on the ceiling was barely moving the air around.I stood up nervously and went to check on my new aunt.She was sitting on the steps that led to the well from the veranda, her face buried in her hands.I sat down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder tentatively.“Are you okay?” I asked, as I swallowed the paan.She reared her head up.“I hate them all,” she said passionately.“Anand married me.He asked me to marry him; he pursued me.And now they are blaming me for Sowmya?”“There’s no one to blame,” I told her.“But I think what you said really hurt Sowmya.”If anyone could understand what Sowmya was going through it would be Neelima.After all, Sowmya was alienated by her own family for being unmarried and she had nowhere to go.All through my life I had heard people say things to put her down.First, it had been because she was overweight and then because her hair was falling out, which made my grandparents nervous that she would soon go bald.She took care of Ammamma and Thatha , ran their house for them, and they treated her as if she were a burden.Forget gratitude, Ammamma and Thatha made her feel like she was a load they couldn’t wait to dump on some unsuspecting “boy.” I wondered how they would survive once Sowmya did get married.Who would cook and clean? Who would make sure the maid came and did her work properly?“I didn’t mean to hurt Sowmya,” Neelima apologized.“But I am going to have a baby and no happiness from their side.Why?”“If you have a son, you will have them kissing the floor you walk on—they will have their heir then,” I joked but I also knew it was true.My grandfather was obsessed with perpetuating the line of Somayajulas.He wanted a son’s son and that was why Nate, the only grandson, was not qualified to be heir.Neelima wept some more at my joke.“They told Anand that our son would never be the rightful heir because of me.I am not the right woman to bear their heir,” she sighed sadly.“That is why Lata is pregnant again.”“What?” It was preposterous.How could Lata be pregnant again?“They are hoping she will have a son and he will be the grandchild to carry on the family name.”For an instant I wanted to tell her that she was mistaken, that Thatha was not such a chauvinist, or so old-fashioned, and then I remembered that he was all those things, that he was capable of asking his “pure-blooded” daughter-in-law to bear another child, to bear a son.Burgeoning hope crushed, I realized that he would never accept Nick; he would never accept even the idea of Nick and me.What was I going to do?“So she’s pregnant.like, now?” I asked, wanting to be absolutely certain.Neelima’s head bobbed.“Almost four months gone and they want to do a test soon to find out the sex of the baby.Have you seen the way she treats your grandparents? She doesn’t even let her children come here to see them.But now”—she took a deep breath—“now they are all best friends.And my baby has no right to be born.She says that I might have a miscarriage.”I patted her shoulder in a weak attempt to assuage her.It was an impossible situation, a pointless one.What difference would it make to my seventy-plus-year-old grandfather if he had a grandson or not?But the Indian in me understood him.You were measured in heaven by the blood of your heirs and Thatha didn’t want to fall short.At his age, where life was not ahead of him but behind him, it was more important than ever that the Somayajula family name be carried on.I loved my grandfather dearly despite his anachronistic ways.Thatha was a man from an era long gone.A white burly moustache on his creased face made him look distinguished and his eyes were bright as if he couldn’t wait for the next day.Unlike Ammamma, Thatha was always ready with a quick joke, some smart repartee, and mischief.He was also one manipulating son of a bitch and I was now old enough to see it, but it didn’t change how I felt about him.I had seen Thatha twist and turn people around to suit his needs; I still adored him.My father disliked my grandfather and disliked him immensely
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