Vairum has called for tea. “So you’ve met my niece, Janaki.”

“Yes, it’s funny…”

“Yes, we were…”

They begin once more in concert, Bharati warmly and Janaki wanly, so that it is clear Bharati would have told of a long acquaintance and Janaki might have said no more than that they had been chatting as he showed up. They stop, realizing this. Vairum is looking from one to the other closely.

“Did you ever meet in Cholapatti?”

Bharati wags her head while Janaki is too tense to respond. Vairum turns to her children.

“Bharati lives just across the street-that big white house, did you see it?” he asks.

Janaki’s children nod, silent, awed.

“Oh, well, don’t I always run into someone famous when I come to this house!” Janaki exclaims in a high and brittle pitch.

Bharati blinks.

There is a pause. Vani has put aside her veena and joined them. Vairum follows her with his gaze. “I came too late to hear you play today,” he says wistfully. “I tried to get away.”

“Did you know, children,” Bharati says, “I grew up in your mother’s hometown, and when I was a little girl, I used to sit in a mango tree back of Vairum Mama’s mother’s house and listen to Vani Mami play.”

She doesn’t look at Janaki, and Janaki wonders if she was supposed to have said something about their childhood chumship, so long ago now, improbable, irrelevant. In movie lore, it’s common knowledge that Bharati is from Janaki’s hometown, but still no one has ever thought to ask Janaki if they know each other-what could a girl from Janaki’s family and a girl like Bharati have in common? Many suspect the sort of matters Gayatri confided, and even those who don’t think about such things, even Baskaran, who has long forgotten that brief encounter on the Madurai bazaar, would never make such a connection and so why would Janaki make it for her uncle and aunt? There is no need.

“Yes, and now she comes here, morning and evening, to listen”-Vairum takes a tumbler of tea from a tray held out to him by a maid-“whenever she’s not filming in Kashmir or Kerala or some exotic place!”

Bharati, smiling, also accepts a cup. “I can never get enough of Vani Mami’s music!”

“Yes, I miss it terribly.” Janaki, who doesn’t take tea, refuses the tray. “You’re awfully lucky.”

Bharati doesn’t look at her, but smiles a little at Vairum, who is not paying attention.

“I like your movies,” says Janaki.

“Me too,” Thangajothi squeaks, and Bharati reaches across Janaki to pat her head.

“Well, Vani Mami doesn’t see films,” she responds, “and so has no idea what I’m about to ask her, but I hope she might consider it.”

They all look at Vani, now covered by her sons. It’s impossible to tell if she’s listening.

“There is a film in the works where I am to play a musical genius,” Bharati continues, now addressing Vairum. “You know I play, but veena is not at all my genius, and it would be such an honour were Vani Mami to consider playing the music for the film. It would be all classical-in fact, she would have full rein to choose whatever she wants to play. The composer and orchestra conductor will adjust. I would make sure she is treated like a maharani, and it would be recorded here in Madras, at Sagittarius Studios, so she would not have to travel at all.”

“I think that sounds like a fine idea, don’t you, kannama?” Vairum says and then notices one of the office workers from downstairs, hovering with obsequious insistence at the door.

Vani smiles vaguely, and Bharati, who clearly can’t tell what Vani is thinking, looks back from her to Vairum.

“Excellent,” Vairum says with finality, rising. He seems to think Vani has concurred, which probably means she has. “Just let us know the schedule. You’ll come, bring the conductor, composer…?”

“Oh, yes. I think it will be some months from now before we start, but yes, plenty of notice, plenty of freedom. Oh, I’m so honoured!” Bharati claps charmingly.

“I’m off-have to meet some Canadians.” Vairum pauses in the doorway. “You’re here for some time?”

“Sadly, no.” Bharati has stood also, and Janaki wonders if she should. “We start filming tomorrow-in Sholavandan, near Madurai. Do you know it?”

“Of course-beautiful country. Get in touch with my office there, in case you need anything.”

“Thank you, Mama, I will, certainly.”

“Sit, stay!” Vairum is gone.

Janaki is by now also standing, and wonders if she looks inhospitable, as though she is trying to usher Bharati out. She is resentful-she feels it now, rising in her like heartburn-that Bharati would have invaded this salon and be entertained here like anyone else, like their equal. This is the sort of thing she hates most in the city, and most of all in Vairum and Vani’s home. None of Baskaran’s relatives would consider such a thing, even those who have lived in Madras for generations; it almost makes her uncomfortable to stay here, to permit the children to eat here. If it bothered Baskaran more, she might find somewhere else to stay, but Vairum’s house is so well situated to attend the music festival, and she gets so few chances now to hear Vani play. She also prefers not to chance alienating her uncle by refusing his hospitality. He still mentions, from time to time, with pride, the role he played in her marriage.

“How is it that you have come to live-” Janaki pauses and gestures toward the street-“so close?”

Bharati’s smile fades. “Yes, isn’t it fortunate? I have known Vairum Mama and Vani Mami for some years now, through mutual friends. They knew I was looking for a house-Vairum Mama made a point of letting me know when that one became available. I love this neighbourhood. And how is your grandmother?”

“She is well. Your mother?”

“She is well. She and her mother, and my brother and sister, they are all living here with me now. I know if ever they need something while I’m away on tour, we can always count on Vairum Mama. You must come some time,” she says, though her smile has not returned.

“Yes, you also.” Janaki looks at Thangajothi, who she fears is a close observer, much like herself. “You must come if ever you are in Pandiyoor.”

“Well, I must get ready to travel,” Bharati says, gathering herself with a briskness that reminds Janaki that she is a working woman. Bharati turns and Janaki smells her perfume and rouge, and her silk, which smells light and crisp, like lemons and new rice, very different from the nutmeggy scent of Janaki’s own, and the Pond’s talc that dusts her face. “Goodbye, Vani Mami,” Bharati calls. “I’ll go and come. You can count on me to pay a call when I return.”

Vani goes and fetches vermilion from the other room. Bharati dots it on her throat. Janaki walks her out to the balcony, Thangajothi’s arm around her waist.

“Go and come.” Janaki uses the formal conjugation.

“Go and come,” Thangajothi echoes her mother, faint and intense.

“I’ll come,” the star rejoins.

A servant has been waiting on the ground floor, and now opens Vairum’s compound door for Bharati, battling one of Vairum’s servants to do so. He scoots across the street ahead of Bharati to open the arched wooden door in the whitewashed wall of her compound. Bharati pauses there and looks up. Thangajothi waves. A few seconds later, Janaki does too. Bharati raises her hand in response and disappears inside her home.