Rohan spent the next hour with his head down, using the PDF like a secret decoder ring. He memorized three phrases.

“Your inheritance,” his mother whispered with a wink.

“Khaana bahut swaadisht hai, Dadi.” English: “The food is very delicious, Grandma.”

When Dadi came out of the kitchen with a plate of gulab jamun , she said, “Le, kha le. Motu banega.”

Rohan hated Sundays. Not because he had to go to school the next day, but because Sunday lunch meant a visit to Dadi ’s (Grandma’s) house. For two hours, he would sit on the hard wooden sofa, staring at his phone while a rapid-fire river of Hindi flowed over his head.

“What’s this?” Rohan asked.

Rohan flipped it open. The first page was a simple greeting.

“Beta, paani laana ,” Dadi would say. Rohan would just smile blankly.