Amongst the old critics who no longer write because art has been forced to retire from the public gaze is Som Parikh, who has seen Ashesh’s work from his earliest days. He has seen all his shows, and he is here again. Ashesh is happy to see him in the crowd, not socializing, but looking carefully at the paintings. He looks at each painting from close up for its texture and from a distance for its composition. Having gone around, he returns to the four works in black.

He comes to Ashesh with his customary smile that is warm without being cloying. ‘So the Joker takes you out of black. Is that the beginning of something new?’

Ashesh nods. ‘I’ve been static for too long. I want to travel now.’ Parikh shakes his hand warmly and says goodbye.

Meanwhile Sumitraben and Prakash have arrived and are posing for the press. Prakash, thrilled with the attention, smiles his recently developed swami smile. He says a few words to Janaki, introduces Sumitraben to Anima, then floats over to Ashesh and intones, ‘Sir, it’s a great show,’ taking Ashesh’s hand in his own soft one and pumping it up and down.

The opening has been a success. Kapoor’s face is wreathed in smiles. The only fly in the ointment is Ashesh’s insistence that he will not go to the post-opening dinner. He wants to have a private party with his friends. Kapoor cannot understand this. Is this man mad or crazy? He wants to pass up this great opportunity to network? He wants to shoot himself in the foot?

Ashesh is full of apologies but firm. ‘I’m sorry but I’m useless at small talk.’

Kapoor nods sadly. ‘I understand,’ he says, but his face makes it clear that he is completely bewildered.

The first-floor restaurant is an old haunt. Tables are joined. Ashesh is flanked by Janaki on one side and Sharada on the other. Opposite them are Anima, Feroze and Shekhar. At one end, on a chair dragged up from another table sits Haridas, the arrangement ensuring that Shekhar need not see Haridas at all throughout dinner.

Liquor flows, the food is good and everybody is in high spirits. As the plates are cleared away Anima says, ‘I think Ashesh has something to say to us.’ Ashesh is a little annoyed at her for jumping the gun. But he also sees this is the right time for it. He gropes for Janaki’s hand under the table and stutters out four words. ‘I am getting married.’

‘Alone?’ Haridas laughs.

Ashesh reddens and holds up Janaki’s hand. The friends break into loud applause. Champagne arrives. Haridas raises his glass. ‘To the great institution of . . .’