‘Good. I want this message on the poster, not on just the label.’

‘Sir, these additions will take up too much space. It’s written quite clearly on the label.’

‘And the caption?’

‘Go Mata Ko Bhata (the chewing gum that the cow mother loves).’

‘Still sounds odd.’

‘Sir, trust me on this. I have spent quite some time on the subject. What better way to get the natives to love our chewing gum than to use a cow? After all, it is the first chewing gum in the—’

‘Tomorrow you will put a pig on the label.’

‘No, the Muslims—who said pig?’ Pestonjee observed Thompson.

‘What are you thinking? No pig,’ Thompson fidgeted uncomfortably. ‘What is that smell?’

‘Sir, I have something that will convince you that the cow is the best ambassador for our product.’

‘What?’

‘Here in the lobby.’

Thompson stepped out of his room. The white cow with red horns stood in the lobby looking at him with great big moist eyes, masticating.

‘What is this nonsense? Is this a joke, Mr Pestonjee?’

‘No, sir. I got her for you. To show you how she chews the cud, just like chewing gum. And prove to you that she deserves to be on our posters. I will open her mouth and show you. Natwarlal! Open her mouth,’ Pestonjee ordered.

‘Sir, she might bite.’

‘Cows don’t bite.’

‘Does she know this?’

‘Just open her mouth.’

Natwarlal put a cloth around his hands and tried to open the cow’s mouth. The cow stood still. Her saliva trickled down his wrist and towards his underarms, making him wiggle.

‘Now shoot,’ Pestonjee yelled at the photographer, who had been summoned exclusively for this purpose.

‘It’s too dark,’ the photographer responded. He preferred still life. He was unprepared and unenthusiastic about drama.

‘Natwarlal! Get a torch.’

Natwarlal ran to the stationery room and returned with a torchlight. Pestonjee flashed the torch into the cow’s mouth that Natwarlal held open using both hands.

‘Perfect,’ the photographer said.

‘I want her mouth wide open,’ said Pestonjee. Then, turning towards Thompson, ‘Sir, the cow chews all day long. All Hindus love cows. If we use her on our posters, they will love our chewing gum.’ He flashed the torch again. The cow shied away from the light nervously and blundered into the cameraman and his equipment.

‘Stop her! My camera!’ screamed the photographer.

‘First, get her out of here,’ Thompson shouted. ‘Clean up this mess now! I can’t breathe. I want this place spotless before the end of the day!’

Then he left.

Pestonjee, the officer and Natwarlal tugged at the rope around the cow’s neck. She suddenly jerked her neck and sent them sprawling on the floor before lumbering off towards the filing room.