The dice is rolled. Our hands meet as I pass it to the next player. Sometimes it is a warm embrace, other times a hurried snatch. Mother and I have come to visit her parents, back in our country. The flight trips are long so we visit infrequently, now we can only talk over a game of Ludo. It is Grandmother’s turn now.

“How is life in the big foreign city?” she asks, as her dice rolls down the board, slowly coming to a stop at the centre.

“Eventful,” Mother answers curtly. Grandmother scoffs, and moves three places up.

“And the food?” she continues.

“Good.” I throw a one.

She sniffles, a little indignantly, I should have said nothing compared to her cooking.

“No nutrients in your pizzas and burgers,” Grandfather says eating my token with his, the yellow blinks mockingly. He is talking to my mother but his eyes remain fixed on the board, he might as well be talking to his token.

“We don’t eat out every day baba,” Mother sighs, her token finally joins the board.

“When would you have time to cook? With your fancy job and all,” Grandmother taunts, rolling out a five.

I get a four but there aren’t enough places to move, so my turn is skipped. Grandfather moves up two places.

“I am also getting paid in six figures and she is getting top class education there,” Mother’s token is now toe to toe with Grandfather’s.

“What about here? What about our culture and our heritage?” Grandmother’s token overtakes Mother’s. “There are good schools here too you know.”

“Colleges and jobs prefer home students who are used to the accents.” it is a practiced answer, one I have given time and time again. I move my eaten token back into the game.

“Is career as important as family’s support?” Grandfather asks, his throw is weak, he only moves up one place.

“What about you? Did you think about culture when you moved from the village to the city?” Mother challenges. She gets a six, she moves her red token fast, keeping up with the pace of her words. “When you uprooted us? Did you fear I was growing without traditions? Were you more concerned about family or my education?”

Grandmother and I skip.

Grandfather contemplates the board for an unusually long time. After a stretched moment he finally throws the dice — a six.

“What if I tell you I regret it?” His token reaches ‘home’. The game is over.

The table is silent. We draw deep breaths and prepare ourselves. We shuffle the board and exchange colours. Hands brushing hands — in an embrace or a hurried snatch. The game begins again.