Almost facing each other, on either side of the main road leading to Doom Dooma, were the two lanes of Cheenapatti. On the other side of the railway line stood the Chinese school.

Pulok looked at the school. There were a few people on the verandah talking amongst themselves. A group of young children were playing in the courtyard. The shop-cum-restaurant owned by Mok Min near the school was full of customers.

An ex-tea garden labourer named Raghuwa Mahato, who lived inside the Cheenapatti lane, came out carrying two tins of paint. These days he cultivated his own land and did odd jobs.

‘Is everything okay?’ he enquired with a wide grin.

‘Yes, uncle. Where are you going with these tins of paint?’

‘To K. P. Lee sahab’s bungalow. His wife called me. She asked me to bring two tins of paint. Yesterday, I painted Ah Fuk’s sister’s house and Ho Chang Ho’s house too. It’s going to be fun,’ smiled Raghuwa.

Across the lane was Ming and Company’s factory, owned by Ming Ho, one of the wealthiest Chinese men of Makum. Besides repairing tea garden machinery, the company also retreaded the machines. Next to it was K. P. Lee’s factory. K. P. Lee lived with his family in the same compound.

‘Lee sahab is going to buy another new car, I have heard. I don’t know what he will do with so many cars. He already has two Plymouths and a Jeep. He has such a huge factory. Just go in and have a look, your head will start reeling,’ Raghuwa muttered. Saying goodbye to Pulok, Raghuwa entered the compound. Several Alsatians barked from inside. Leaving the factory behind, Pulok turned left to enter a narrow lane towards Chitta’s house. Chitta’s wife Bela was seated in the courtyard, busy rubbing oil on her baby’s body. Noticing Pulok, she covered her head with the throw of her sari.

‘Please sit down, dada, while I bathe the baby.’

Chitta’s mother came out of the kitchen and sat beside him. She had seen Pulok grow up. Chitta’s sister Jhuma was in the kitchen garden. She hurriedly came in holding her sari and, after speaking with Pulok for a few moments, left to make tea.

At that moment, Mei Lin was talking to Kaushalya outside her house. Kaushalya was the local collector’s daughter. The house stood on the right side just beyond the entrance to the lane adjacent to the Chinese school. Many Chinese families lived in this lane too. Mei Lin’s friends, Siu, Alan and Mei Hang, also lived here – all three slowly arrived.

‘We have just been to your house,’ said Alan. ‘Have you forgotten that we have to go from house to house to help make the New Year snacks?’

‘Will it be okay if I come after an hour?’ asked Mei Lin.

‘Where are you going?’ Mei Hang asked, faking gruff seriousness.