Kala coiled and redid her hair on the long flight home while Nikhil slept beside her. She pulled out the pencil in her knot and chewed on it for a while. Her teeth left pockmarks on the once yellow pencil. An open book sat on the tray in front of her, but she did not read. Thoughts stood between her eyes and the words in the book. At the airport, Nikhil strained his neck as he tried to get a glimpse of his father. When she saw her husband, Kala set her bag down. As if it were a matter of great urgency, she pulled the pencil out of her hair. She then did a quick little twist, restyled her hair. Her husband, a dark man in his early forties with a light sprinkling of hair on his head and a bulge at the waistline, did not seem to notice. He was eager to hear about Nikhil's music. “How were the veena lessons with Leela Mami? How much did you learn? Any interesting techniques you picked up?” he asked Nikhil. Nikhil opened his mouth to answer his father, but Kala interrupted him. "Arjun!” Kala exclaimed. Nikhil shut his mouth. “Can this wait till we get home?" Kala’s intonation was low. “Can't you ask us how we are?” she asked through clenched teeth. The restraint in her voice caught her husband’s attention. "Okay, okay. Sorry! Well, how are you?" Arjun declared cheerfully. Kala saw that he was not the worried, quiet man she had left behind when she went to India. She responded with questions of her own in a controlled tone. "How is everything at home? Is the house a disaster? Did you save up your entire laundry for me to do it?” She raised her volume one notch per question. “Did you buy any groceries for us so I wouldn't have to go to the grocery store as soon as I came back?" Kala paused, out of breath. "Hey, hey, slow down! Why are you so testy? Come on, you are back home now. I know you are tired. Don’t be so annoyed," Arjun tried to pacify her. "I can answer all those questions. Don't worry. Everything is under control." Arjun pulled the car into their garage. Kala went into the house while her husband and son unloaded everything. She became ominously active as she changed her clothes and headed for the kitchen, where she put the kettle on, pulled out mugs for tea, foraged for cookies, and unloaded the dishwasher. "Nikhil, tell me, how were the veena lessons? What did you think of the teacher?” Kala heard Arjun talking to Nikhil in the living room. "She was cool, Dad. I learned a lot." "Nikhil, be serious, I need to know more." "Later, Dad. Later." "Will you play for me?" he asked his son. "Later, I promise." Arjun walked over to the bedroom. Kala sat on their bed surrounded by fabrics in vibrant colors. He sat next to her. She pushed him out of the way to pick up a couple of saris. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. She froze, her body tightening against his arm. "Arjun, you knew," she exploded, as if she could not hold it in anymore. "You knew about this teacher, you knew how crotchety she is, and you still wanted to send your son to her.” Arjun continued to hold her. “And you didn't tell me,” she continued, “because you knew I would object. I also know you cancelled your trip because it has something to do with all of this. I just don’t know what." “I don't know what to say." He took the saris from her hands and laid them on the pillow. "It annoys me that you care more about music than about the well-being of your son." "So, how has this harmed our son?" "First, tell me you knew." "Yes, I knew. But why was it difficult for Nikhil? He seems fine." "I'm not talking about him now. I'm talking about you. You insisted we go to her. You knew about her and you did not prepare me. Because I would have told you we should pick another teacher." "But have you heard him play after he was coached by Leela Mami?" "How could I have managed that? My brother does not have a veena at home. Leela Mami never let me in to watch." "Look, why don't we see if this was a wasted effort," her husband reasoned. He walked into the living room. Kala refused to follow him. She went into the laundry room, picked up a basket full of clothes. She heard Arjun as he unpacked the veena from its box, yelled for Nikhil to come and play. Nikhil played for a few minutes. In five minutes there was silence. Total silence. Kala cocked her head. She walked into the living room, laundry basket in her hands. Nikhil frowned as he looked at his father. Kala’s heart skipped a beat as she turned to face her husband. Light tears edged their way out of the corners of Arjun’s eyes. He made no attempt to wipe his eyes. Nikhil sighed and asked, “I am sorry, Dad. Is it that bad?” "No, no, not at all. It's that touch. It is just as I remember. Even better with all these years," his father said with a sniffle. "Dad, do you know her?" Nikhil’s question was direct. "Leela Mami, I mean. She is, like, really quiet and serious you know." "Yes, I knew her." Nikhil scratched his ear. "Knew her? When? Why didn't you tell us?" Kala stopped sorting through the laundry basket. "Many, many years ago, I was her student." Kala dropped the clothes back in the basket. "I was so good I could have been a professional musician. But it was not to be. My parents stopped my music classes because they thought I needed a 'proper' career. I had to go away to college." "My grandparents did not like music? That's not true, I know that!" Nikhil protested. "Don't get me wrong. They did like music. Only, they did not want me to be a professional musician. They thought a musician would not have the steady income of a technology professional.” “But how about having a career you love or loving what you do?” Nikhil countered. “Nikhil, I think they were also a little jealous of all the time I was spending at Leela Mami's house. In a strange way, they were afraid of losing their son. I was her protégé." Kala threw the washed clothes on the floor. They could be folded later. "And you just agreed to stop? Just like that? How could you, Dad? Unless, you wanted to..." Nikhil persisted. "Not really. But I finished high school and went away to college. When I went back to her one time, during the summer vacation, she told me she was busy, she did not have a slot for me. And that was that." "Why are you telling me this now? Why did you not say anything before we went, Dad? All you had to tell me was that you were sending me to your old teacher." "Yes, exactly," Kala broke in. “Why did you cancel your trip, you could have taken Nikhil to her yourself." She moved over to sit close to her husband. "Don’t you think she would have been more welcoming?” "No. I did not want her to know who you are. Think about it, Nikhil. Why would she agree to teach you if she knew who you were?” “I don’t understand,” Kala argued. “Why would she refuse to teach your son?” “I did not want to take that risk. I didn't want her to think, what's the point? This boy will also turn out to be like his father." Kala played with the clothes she had strewn on the floor. She had a lot of sorting to do. There was silence for a minute. Nikhil lifted the veena and placed it on the floor. He rose. “Dad,” he said. “Can I go back to Leela Mami next summer?” Arjun took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face. He blew his nose loudly, folded the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket. Then he repeated what Nikhil had just said. “You want to go to Leela Mami next year?” “Yes. Please?” “Okay.” Arjun did not hide the smile that wanted to burst through. Kala did not say anything. She chewed on the pencil she had pulled out of the knot in her hair. * A year went by in a busy blur. Soon it was time for summer vacation. Kala and Nikhil walked the familiar route to Leela Mami’s house in silence. Nikhil rang the doorbell leaning forward from outside her kolam, to make sure he would not step on it. Kala stayed a few steps behind him and studied the kolam; it had not been smudged by trampling feet yet. Leela Mami opened the door and a small smile of surprise escaped her lips. Nikhil stepped in, his hands outstretched in an automatic gesture, as if to hug her. In a second, her lips straightened, the smile erased so fast, it might never have appeared. Leela Mami took a giant step back in alarm, retreated from the threat of physical contact. She turned around, walked ahead into the sitting room furnished with the two hard cane chairs. Kala followed. The babbling brook of words inside Kala flooded its banks. Her smile, she knew, must look inane. “Hello, hello. Hope you have been well. It has been a year, right? Of course, you know. We were here last year at this time. Do you think Nikhil has grown? He has matured so much. It is quite incredible how they grow and…” Nikhil untied his shoe laces. When he finished, he shook his backpack from his shoulders, yanked the baseball cap from his head and shoved it into his pocket. “Mom,” he said with a sense of purpose that made Kala stop talking and draw in a sharp breath. “I want to talk to Leela Mami.” Kala sat down. She bit her lips and looked around. Nothing had changed. The kolam at Leela Mami’s doorstep, her cotton sari, the furniture in the living room, the open windows and, yes, even the pigeons atop that single open window. She stopped. Something was different. Kala’s gaze swept around the room once more then halted at the corner table. It was in the center, as if he had given it to her only yesterday. Nikhil’s not-very-artistic 'thank-you' card stood upright on a corner table. Kala wanted to draw Nikhil’s attention to the card but his focus was there already. He blinked several times as if his eyes smarted. Nikhil plopped himself into the hard chair with a thud. Kala reached a hand out to touch Nikhil, but he drew his upper arm away from her, crossing his arms across his chest. Droplets of sweat trickled down her neck as she waited. Leela Mami's slight smile had long disappeared. Nikhil fiddled with the zipper on his backpack. Then he shoved his hands into his pockets. In one hand he brought out a piece of paper. He straightened the crumpled paper, held it out in front of his face. As if delivering a speech at school, he read aloud from it. “What is wrong is wrong even if everyone is doing it. What is right is right even if no one is doing it.” Kala shook her head, an angry snort escaped. She grabbed her dupatta, holding it to her nose as if she had a nasal problem. She glanced at Leela Mami. Her face might well have been made of stone. Despite a certainty in Nikhil’s voice Kala had never heard before, he looked down at his feet as he said his piece. Nikhil’s once-white socks were still on his feet, the big toe on each foot peeping out of the holes in each sock. He spoke in English, the words rushing out of his mouth like the gush of a geyser. “I am Arjun’s son. You know your student, Arjun, from a long time ago?” He looked up from his feet for a second but returned his gaze to them immediately. Nikhil continued, “You know what I said just now about what is wrong is wrong, I read that on a poster in my school every day last year. I thought I should tell you who I am before we start this year.” Kala gripped the handles of the cane chair so hard, the ribbed pattern on them transferred to a design on her palms. She turned and glared at Nikhil. He refused to look at her. He kept is eyes on his feet. After long seconds, Kala turned to face Leela Mami’s reaction. Leela Mami’s face did not reflect shock or anger. Nor did she look disappointed. She did not stand up and order them to leave. She sat with a thoughtful expression on her face. The pigeons atop the open window pane cooed as if they understood that the silence was uncomfortable for Kala. Leela Mami broke the silence. "Yenaku teriyumay," she said in her short manner, in Tamil. She said, "I knew." "You knew!" Nikhil exclaimed. The words burst out as if from a pressure cooker. "You can hide everything from me. You can dress American, you can talk in English. But the one thing you cannot hide from me is your music. I knew the moment you played for me the first time." "Oh!" Kala put her hands to her head. Her hair was getting really sweaty. Leela Mami continued, "You see my sangatis, my progressions, are unique and they are truly mine. Only a student of mine could have taught you those." Her words soft, she continued, "The fingering, the style and even the song you chose, all the same." Nikhil concentrated on his feet. The exposed big toes rested one on top of the other. They switched places over and over. Kala licked her dry lips; words deserted her. "Come on," Leela Mami stood up and snapped her fingers. "We don't have time to waste. You are here to play, right? We have a lot of work to do then, don't we?" Without a word Nikhil walked over to the veena and assumed his position, ready for the new lesson. Kala summoned up a smile and rose to leave. After all, the teacher did not teach with parents watching.                             * THE END* Glossary of unfamiliar terms: Mami: a term meaning aunt, which is usually appended to a lady’s first name to indicate respect. Salwar kameez: a tunic and pant outfit commonly worn by Indian women. Dupatta: A matching scarf that goes with a salwar kameez Veena: an Indian instrument Yenna vishayam: what is the matter at hand? Peru ketirupel ninaaikeren: You would have heard the name, I think? Raga: Scale in classical Indian music. Chakravakam, Kalyani, Mohanam: Names of ragas Pankaja Lochana: the lotus eyed-one, the first two words of a song in the raga Kalyani Talapu: Also called the pallu, the talapu is the part of the sari that drapes over the shoulder. Alapana: An improvisation segment in classical music that comes as a prelude to the main song. Carnatic music: Classical music of southern India. Yeppidi vaschichan: How did he play?