The atmosphere lightens. People shift in their seats. Anima moves over to Janaki’s side. ‘Why have you deserted me, Anima?’ Feroze calls out melodramatically, hand on chest. Ashesh gets up and moves away. ‘Come sit here,’ Janaki says and smiles at Feroze. From where he is standing, Ashesh has Janaki’s three-quarter profile in view. The pearl drop in her ear catches the light. Ashesh holds his breath. Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring. He smiles. Haridas catches the smile. He winks. Ashesh frowns at him and turns to study the Gaitonde on the wall behind him.

Shekhar comes over to him. ‘Can’t stand him. How could you be his friend for so many years? You are poles apart.’

‘They say opposites attract.’

‘He’s constantly performing.’

‘He’s a wonderful artist.’

‘Does that absolve him?’

‘Absolve? We all wear masks to protect ourselves from the world. His is a little exaggerated, that’s all. I’ve never gone into why he’s like that.’

‘You mean he might have had an unhappy childhood and all that? Makes no difference. He’s got his eyes on Janaki now.’

‘What rubbish!’ Ashesh realizes his voice is louder than necessary. ‘Sorry,’ he tries to compensate. ‘I don’t think she’s his type.’

‘Does he have a type? Never mind.’

Ashesh touches Shekhar’s shoulder in a spontaneous gesture of empathy.

Haridas emerges from the kitchen. Feroze growls, ‘Ei, you jungli! Where’s the daru?’

‘It’s coming. But not to get sozzled on. It’s to celebrate what’s behind that bedspread.’ He points to the covered wall. Looking around, he continues, ‘I think it’s only right that the newcomer in our midst, Janaki Patil, should unveil it. Ms Patil, please do the honours.’

Janaki is thrown. She shakes her head vigorously. She looks at Ashesh. He fixes his eyes on Haridas, asking him to lay off. Haridas refuses to meet his eyes. ‘To introduce Janaki Patil briefly, she kind of took off my chuddies in a little piece she wrote on me last month. After that she did a serious analysis of the clay objects made in Dharavi’s Potters’ Colony as objects of art. If she continues to write stuff like that, she’ll be thrown out of her paper. Ladies and gentlemen, Janaki Patil.’

Janaki sits frozen in her seat. She resents impositions. Her eyes shoot arrows at Haridas. His thick skin deflects them. Anima says, ‘Just get up and pull that cover off. Two seconds’ work.’ Feroze says from the other side, ‘Go on, heave.’

Janaki refuses to move. She will not submit to Haridas’s whim. Ashesh gives her a close look, then says to Haridas, ‘I object. I am the seniormost artist in this room. I think the honour should be mine.’ He looks around the room. ‘I shall feel very hurt if my right is ignored.’