‘Brahmin, not Brahman. Brahman is impossible, for me at least. Brahmin won’t get you anywhere. What if I’m a meat-eating Brahmin? What if I’m a Shaivite and do not believe in the Vedas? What if  . oh well  . Hindu, Brahmin, fifty-one, male.’

Young looked at the officer. The officer scribbled some numbers and presented the results to Young.

‘According to my estimate, you eat paan twice a day,’ Young noticed a wrinkle on the professor’s forehead and added ‘on average’.

‘On some days I eat none. On weekends, I eat more.’

‘I am correct on average,’ Young replied.

‘I don’t understand. If I have two cows and someone has no cows, we have one cow on average.’

‘It is the volume that matters. What difference does it make if all cows belong to you or to me? I can tell you more,’ Young said.

‘The government . . . English. . . loot . . . yes!’ The professor’s restraint was visible. Young seemed to appreciate it.

‘Tell him about the type of paan he prefers,’ Young instructed the officer.

The officer returned to the tables in his book and began scribbling 89, 5.0, 9.0, 5.0  . ‘Sir, according to our statistics, you have a seventy-two per cent probability of eating paan with lime, fennel, betel nut, cardamom, preserved rose petals—gulkand, hari—’

‘You mean magai!’ said the professor.

‘Magai?’ asked Young.

‘Sir, it is a type of paan, like Banarasi, Kalkatta,’ said the officer.

‘I have diabetes, no gulkand for me. You are right about magai,’ said the professor.

‘You didn’t tell me you have diabetes,’ said Young.

‘What’s the use?’

‘Ask him what time he steps out,’ Young ordered.

‘For example, contingent upon your stepping out at 9 p.m.—’ the officer stopped abruptly, a bit flustered.

‘Go on ask him, ask,’ Young prompted.

‘If you wear a jasmine garland around your wrist, I can tell you which paan—’ said the officer.

The professor laughed. ‘If you were to wear a jasmine garland on your wrist, I can not only tell you what you’re eating but also where you’re going.’

‘Where?’ asked Young.

The officer turned away to face the dusty white wall, hiding a sheepish grin.

‘Never mind,’ the professor retorted.

‘I’ll be direct. I have some money for you. Two rupees and fifty paise. Fifty paise per answer. Okay? Question one. Why are there more clove-eaters in Mahim than in Colaba or Fort?’ Young asked.