The room was unfamiliar and yet, the warm sunlight streaming through the windows and balcony door was familiar.

It took Gāyathri a few minutes before she realised where she was. It was not completely silent but the morning sounds were different; there were no crows cawing nor any bird for that matter. That was strange, considering that there would be large gardens both in the front and at the back of the house. Her father had mentioned the gardens. And the fact that there were no crows in Hyderabad, but she had not been able to believe it, convinced then that her father had been joking with her. How could there be a place with no crows? It was true in Hyderabad.

She sat up in her bed and looked around, wondering why a new place did not feel strange to her. The walls were painted a pale green, with a couple of pictures; one was of a champa bloom, the pale yellow a vivid contrast against the deep green and the other was of a kadamba fruit, a fuzzy ball of white and yellow. She had loved those as a kid, Suma and she had often played with those balls. Her father must have photographed them, she had a couple of similar photos that her father had taken, in her room back at Kadiyam.

The curtains fluttered; pastel green with vibrant floral print in pink and peach lotuses and she recognised them. The curtains back home were of the same print. She looked around with renewed curiosity.

The room was similar for it was almost identical to her room in her hometown; in size, shape and décor. Both had been designed by her father. She soon noticed more similarities; the laminate used, the positioning of the beds and wardrobes, the mirror and the dresser, the study table with its upholstered chair. The only thing missing was the framed photograph of her parents on the table, which considering the circumstances, was too much to hope for. But everything else seemed to be like her old room.

It was as though her father had ordered two of all the items for each of the rooms. This room was indeed hers; kept ready for the day she would come to Hyderabad. Tears threatened to fall but she held them back. It would not do to cry amidst strangers, even if she was alone in her room.

Then she became aware of whispers; of young voices, most probably outside her room.

Quietly slipping out of bed and as stealthily as she could manage, she walked to the door and waited to be sure her presence was not known. When she could still hear the voices, she pulled the door open, only to see the backs of two kids running away. She would have to wait longer to find out who they were.

Plodding back to her bed, she bent her head in a quick prayer, before taking out the jar and pulling out a slip. She sat for a few minutes wondering what message her father would have for her and then shook her head; better to read the note than waste time in wild guesses.

"There are times when family becomes strangers and times when strangers become family."

Gāyathri did not like those words; she did not want the family she had known all her life to turn into strangers. More importantly, she did not want the strangers she met yesterday, however kind and affectionate they were, to become her family.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Her next sighting of the children was when they followed Lavanya into her room.

Shanta had finished helping her get dressed but when Gāyathri was vehement in not going downstairs to have her breakfast, she had been unable to decide on her own. Shanta had gone to seek Lavanya's advice, which explained why Lavanya had come, presumably to talk to her.

It shocked her to learn that they were Lavanya's two children. The daughter, Anusree, was all of eight years and her son, Karthik, was just five. She had always believed that her father only had a son. She looked at them, her siblings and the familiar pangs of anger and jealousy ignited.

Karthik was a miniature of her...no, their father. She had seen her father's childhood photos and Karthik was a living version of those photos. No wonder he was adored. But if she could bring herself to be fair, she would have to admit that he was a bundle of cuteness, round eyes wide with wonder, thick hair which refused to be tamed by a comb and cheeks that still had a bit of baby fat. He stared at her with unbridled curiosity and she found it endearing. She could like him.

It was Anusree who aroused that anger fuel by insecurity. She had always thought she was the only daughter of her father and somehow found it difficult to accept that he had hidden the fact that he had another daughter. That was not like her father yet she could not dispute the truth standing in front of her. Anusree was Lavanya's daughter which made her...

Gāyathri did not finish that sentence, she did not want to. A half brother she could bring herself to accept, not a sister. That was impossible, only she was her father's daughter. And then another fear ran cold in her veins, that note her father had written about a daughter being a blessing, was that for her or Anusree?

The kids greeted her, at their mother's insistence. Their hellos were polite and she noted that her relationship was not mentioned. Ignoring the hurt and the relief that omission caused she smiled at them. Words would be difficult but apparently, her smile was enough.

Still hiding behind his mother, Karthik peered at her, "Does it hurt?"

"No, not much. I take medicines so..."

"Medicines are bitter. Amma gives it when I have a cold and it is yucky. I do not like medicines. Do you like yours?"

She shook her head, warming up at his delightful talk, but before she could say anything, Anusree answered her brother, "Even if the medicines are bitter, they are good for her, it would help her get better and stronger faster. It must be difficult for aat...akka to do her work with one hand."

Gāyathri picked on that hesitation. Why did Anusree hesitate to call her akka? She was her sister, and even if the child had not been told the truth, it was an accepted practice to call young girls older than oneself as akka. What could be the reason behind that hesitation, was it an unwillingness to accept, as she felt? Or was it just a lapse of speech and she was reading too much into a simple slip of the tongue?

Her hot breakfast turned cold with her conflicting emotions. She struggled with monosyllabic answers, strived to eat in silence; wanting them to leave yet hoping she would not be left alone. When Lavanya left with the kids, promising that they could meet her after they came back from school, Gāyathri was disappointed.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Lavanya indulged Gāyathri and allowed her to have her meals on the balcony, eating in the bedroom was not permitted under any circumstances. Gāyathri loved the view from her balcony, the gardens were well maintained, though if her opinion was sought, she would have suggested a few ways to make the garden greener and lusher. Some plants were the wrong choice to be planted next to each other, and others plants would benefit from shared beds. There was a space where a trellis could be built, it would be home to a fragrant jasmine creeper and sturdy crotons could grow in the shade offering colourful contrast to the deep green leave. And the opportunities to build walkways with colourful bordering plants...the gardener surely needed some urgent lessons.

Mealtimes were enjoyable, despite being alone. The rest of the time, she was miserable.

In a sort of routine, the kids would spend a few minutes in the morning before they left for school, while Shanta helped her with her bath and getting dressed. Once Shanta went off to school and tuition classes, Gāyathri was alone. Her grandmother would come to see her after lunch and she pretended to be asleep. She was not sure what they could talk about and was afraid of what could be told to her. Lavanya did not come over again and Gāyathri was surprised to know that she too went to work; it should not have surprised her but each thing she learnt about Lavanya, however small or commonplace it was, surprised her.

Her mother also worked all her life, she had a nursery that she ran and maintained, oversaw landscaping projects and even sold plants across the country with orders received online. Her mother was a successful businesswoman and was an inspiration. Yet, the fact that Lavanya was a working professional surprised her. She seemed to know nothing about Lavanya, though that woman's existence had figured so prominently in her mother's life.

She did speak to Suma regularly, the familiar conversations were soothing, but that would be only for a couple of hours. She was not a book reader nor enjoyed watching televisions; with nothing to do, the days passed slowly and the nights dragged on.

For three days, Gāyathri alternated between enjoying her solitude and moping about being alone. On the fourth morning, her grandmother paid her a surprise visit and commanded her to join the family for all meals.

It was a command and an ultimatum she could not refuse.