Recap: A newspaper report evokes an unexpected reaction from Maahir’s widow Aparna that piques both her son Azaan and Bhatia, his lawyer.

“I thought the girls could share this room. It was meant for girls, don’t you think?” Aparna turned to smile at the Pandits, who blinked back at her, still a little bewildered from the jet lag, their fall from fortune and the fact that they were now being sheltered by Maahir’s wife.

Fortunately, Seher spoke first. “It’s lovely, uh…”

What does one call one’s father’s first wife? Seher couldn’t bring herself to say Mrs Khan or worse, Mrs Kumar. Raahi may have an aneurysm.

“Call me Aparna,” the grey haired, soft-faced lady before them nodded, before striding to throw open the lace curtains and reveal a view of their wild garden, overrun with weeds. “Ideally I’d like to give you each a room but this is the only one that’s sweet and pink. Other than mine. The two on the third floor are so... grey and depressing. I can’t possibly let you stay in one of those.”

Aparna shook her head vehemently and switched the AC on and then back off.

Zaara shot Seher a look behind Aparna’s back. To her, Aparna was clearly cuckoo. Her floaty grey kaftan and eager eyes didn’t help. And her manic movements made Aparna seem like a witch with a twitch. Seher, however, felt for Aparna. She understood her nervosity. It was an uncomfortable situation all around.

“Not that I want to put you in a grey and depressing room uh…,” Aparna turned to Raahi and stopped short, unsure how to address her. Raahi smiled tightly, nodding to fill the silence.

“I’m alright with grey, Aparna,” Raahi said bravely. “I’m grateful to you for giving us a place to stay at all till our house is up and ready. The owners assured us that it wouldn’t be longer than two weeks to work out the kinks in plumbing. I’m sure we’ll be out of your hair sooner than that.”

Zaara suppressed a smile. Seher could tell she was laughing inwardly at Aparna’s bedraggled hair. She squeezed her baby sister’s hand, to stop her from offending their hostess.

“Please stay as long as you like!” Aparna trilled. “It’s nice to have a house full of family. It’s always just been Azaan and I.”

Aparna broke off with a choked sound and Raahi flushed with embarrassment, as they all realised that it was due to the latter that the former’s house had always been so empty. The silence spread amongst them, like thick oil on water, threatening to drown any potential of friendly feeling.

“Seher sweetheart, aren’t carnations your favourite?” Raahi ventured, desperately pointing at the pink and white floral arrangement on the vanity.

“They are,” Seher nodded, genuinely, grateful for the diversion. “It’s a wonderful bouquet.”

Aparna smiled and touched the petals tenderly. “I made it myself,” she confessed. “Flowers... they keep me going. They’re wonderful, aren’t they? Each blooming in their own special way.”

“That’s right, you used to be a florist back when...,” Raahi trailed off, blushing again.

“Back when I was happily married.”

Another uncomfortable silence ensued. Jesus, at this rate they would never make it past dinner, let alone survive the fortnight.

“Have you ever thought about returning to the profession?” Seher attempted, determined to persevere through the awkwardness.

“My mother doesn’t need to sell flowers for a living anymore.”

The women turned to see Azaan enter, his face contorted in a frown. Zaara’s features instantly twisted into an answering scowl. She had not met her half-brother before but she knew all about the bullying campaign he had led against Seher in middle school. It had affected her sister so severely that Seher, who had been chatty at the time, had stopped speaking altogether. Even changing schools hadn’t helped. Azaan and his goonish friends had shown up at Seher’s new school and ensured that nobody would risk befriending the bastard child. After three months of complete silence from Seher, the Pandits had relocated to London.

Anger, hot and unadulterated, blazed through Raahi. Even though the move to England had been wonderfully freeing for them, Raahi had never forgiven Maahir’s son for crippling her daughter’s confidence. She avoided talking about Azaan with Maahir, and she avoided looking at him now, to stop her tigress instincts from tearing him apart.

Seher, however, smiled at her half-brother. “I wasn’t implying that uh... Aparna needed to sell flowers, but that she may want to. Real talent is so rare that it shouldn’t be wasted.”

Aparna beamed with appreciation. It had been a long time since she had heard any praise of herself. So far her life had been crowded by her husband’s indifference, her friends’ pity and her son’s concern. It was refreshing to be considered again.

Aparna placed her hand on Seher’s arm. There was something about the tall, willowy girl that radiated genuine warmth, despite her very serious expression. Aparna decided that she liked her.

“You will have fresh carnations in your room for every day that you’re here,” she said to Seher, “and there will be some daisies on the table at dinner tonight — along with Ali saab’s delicious kheema pao…”

“I’m a vegetarian,” Zaara spoke up for the first time since they arrived at The Kumars.

“Of course you are,” Azaan rolled his eyes. “Ma I’ll be eating in my room.”

“Sorry for caring about the environment,” Zaara muttered. Azaan narrowed his eyes at her, about to retort.

“Don’t worry about us,” Raahi said smoothly, “I’ll just whip up the girls some sandwiches in the kitchen, if that’s alright?”

“Or we could Deliveroo something,” Seher suggested.

“It’s Swiggy here,” Azaan corrected her. “I suppose you never had to come to India before this?”

Before Seher could answer him or Raahi could claw him, Aparna jumped in. “Absolutely not,” she said firmly. “We will all have a lovely dinner together at the table. Don’t worry Zaara, I’ll ask Ali saab to make something vegetarian for you. Does... uh tofu kheema sound alright?”

Zaara forced a smile, trying her best to seem enthusiastic. “That sounds wonderful.”

Seher and Raahi both bit their lips, stifling laughter. Their brat had never had to be polite before this. Despite the circumstances, it was a treat to watch.

“You have a lovely smile beta,” Aparna said, touching Zaara’s cheek, charmed as most people were by Zaara. “I’ll just go inform the cook. Dinner at eight! All of you.”

With a warning glance at Azaan and a swish of her kaftan, Aparna disappeared.

Her son stayed a moment longer, staring at the Pandits like they were animals eager to encroach upon his territory. Raahi narrowed her gaze at him, unable to restrain herself any longer. “Can I help you beta?”

Azaan said nothing. He glowered at them for another uncomfortable moment, and left.

Zaara went straight to the door and closed it.

“Do not unpack” she said. “We are not staying.”

(To be continued)

This is the fifth episode of Riva Razdan’s serialised novel Nonsense and Respectability, published every Sunday

Riva Razdan is a New York University graduate and currently working as a screenwriter and author based in Mumbai. Her debut novel Arzu was published by Hachette India in 2021