Anima laughs, looking at her brother in surprise. ‘Don’t let him put you off. Bachchu Kaka’s a lovely person—warm, sharp, strong, extremely dedicated and wonderfully eccentric. He’s mellowed now. He had lunch with me some time ago. I said, “Sorry, it’s all vegetarian.” He said, “That’s all I eat now. Meat doesn’t suit me.”’

‘What?’ Ashesh’s eyes almost pop out of his head. He and Anima exchange glances and burst out laughing. Janaki is an outsider to the joke. Ashesh notices her face, controls his laughter and brings her in.

‘Bachchu Kaka once dropped in after one of his tours of the Warli padas. We were having dinner. Ai asked him if he’d join us. He said he’d just eaten in one of the padas. Ai wrinkled up her nose and said, “Shee! You’ll catch some terrible disease eating with them.” That riled Bachchu Kaka. So he set out to annoy her. “Disease? It was delicious. They killed a rabbit for us. Sometimes we have to make do with insects. But even they are fine when roasted. Snakes too.” Ai got up from the table and rushed out to throw up. Anna told Bachchu Kaka off for upsetting her. “Why should she be upset? I am upset. One doesn’t turn down people’s hospitality. We eat what the Warlis can offer. Some Budhibai in rags shares her meagre meal with you. Her food is something that she’s dug up or killed or torn off a tree. It’s enough to fill just one corner of her stomach so she can keep her skin and bones together and work and live another day. But she offers us a little bit out of that. Do we turn up our noses and demand dates and cow’s milk instead?”’

‘After that, every time Bachchu Kaka came back from a tour, we’d ask for a list of the things he had eaten,’ Anima says. ‘I could barely take it. But this fellow . . . He’d listen to the list as if it was a fairy tale. Didn’t you feel revolted, Ashesh?’