‘There’s no senior and junior amongst friends,’ Haridas deliberately takes Ashesh’s words at face value. ‘Janaki’s our guest today. The rest of you are family.’

‘I don’t think family should be ignored for outsiders.’ There’s a round of applause. Haridas bows his head, touches his ears and says, ‘Forgive me, guru. Come this way.’

Ashesh flicks the cover off in one deft movement. The wall behind is covered by a Warli painting. Everybody is stunned.

‘Girji made it,’ Haridas whispers. All eyes turn to the kitchen doorway. There is nobody there.

‘She’s sitting in there. She will not come out. I’d been after her for years to paint something on this wall for me. Suddenly she did this.’

‘Warli women never paint on order.’ Ashesh’s voice is thick with emotion. ‘They paint their own walls for their own rituals. This is amazing.’

Haridas pops a bottle of champagne. ‘Let’s toast Girji’s art.’ They raise their glasses towards the kitchen. Marli is now in the doorway, twisting the curtain around her hand. She giggles when they raise their glasses and runs in.

Sharada stands before the painting. There’s a whole world there, quite unknown to her. Janaki stands beside her, looking closely at the motifs worked in white lines on a plaster of geru. The space, almost five feet across, is filled with human figures. Each figure is two triangles, meeting at the apex. The meeting point is the waist. The upper triangle bears the arms, the lower one, the legs. There are many species of trees around, some with frond-like branches. They have leaves like jagged teeth or spotted sprays. There is a sun in one corner of the sky. Its dazzling light is represented by four concentric circles and six short, pulsating rays. A crescent moon hangs in the opposite corner, surrounded by twelve cool rays made up of tiny dots. In the left-hand corner at the bottom are a tiger and a peacock. In the right-hand corner is a line of eight men. Before them on the ground lies a body.

Janaki looks at Ashesh. ‘What’s happening here?’ Anima takes her by the hand and leads her to the kitchen. ‘Let’s ask Girji.’

Girji sits with her back against a wall, her legs drawn up to her chest.

‘It’s a beautiful picture, Girji,’ Anima says. Girji looks at Anima with clouded eyes and draws her legs tighter against her chest.

‘What is it about?’ Anima asks.

Girji does not answer. She looks down and rubs one foot against the other.

‘This lady is going to write about your picture in her newspaper. How did you think of it?’

Girji continues to look down but mutters, ‘Just like that.’

‘Who is the woman on the ground in the corner?’

‘Bhutali,’ Girji says.

‘Bhutali?’ Janaki asks as they return to the living room.

‘A bhutali is a witch,’ Anima answers.