Going to Matheran was a jump from a recent sorrow into an older one for Feroze. Many pleasurable and painful memories bound him to Sylvania, the bungalow Hoshi Uncle had left him. In childhood Matheran had meant gorging on sour berries plucked in the wilderness at the back of the house, giving himself acute stomach aches. Teasing Tehmi to tears. Learning to play chess from Hoshi Uncle and one day checkmating him. Eating bhakris roasted by Pandurang's wife, Shevanta, by lantern light in their hut. Cleaning his teeth every morning with the aromatic powder Shevanta made and returning home triumphantly with Hoshi Uncle's gift of a jar of Monkey Brand black tooth powder only to have Freny throw it into the waste bin with a disgusted, ‘Hoshi taddan gando chhe.’

In late adolescence Matheran had meant being driven crazy by Tehmi's smile and golden skin. Being tongue-tied in her presence. Not taking the slow train or hired horse up the slope, but climbing all the way to the gate of Sylvania tucked away in a jungle at the other end of the hill town and coming to a dead halt right outside, panting, not so much because he was tired but because he was nervous and excited. Stepping into the spacious colonial bungalow—hidden by tall, dense trees—still breathless, smiling weakly at Hoshi Uncle's good-natured jibe, ‘Losing breath climbing such a small hill at your age, dikra? Not a good sign.’ And then Tehmi flying in from somewhere to throw her arms, gleaming with golden down, around his neck, turning his legs to boneless extensions.

Feroze had carried his confusion in Tehmi's presence well into adulthood. The only difference was, with his newly acquired social poise, he was better able to suppress its outward signs. He had even learnt to hug Tehmi expertly and give her a peck on the cheek in greeting, but always fearing that she would feel the thumping of his heart against her body and wonder. He had decided he would declare his love and propose to Tehmi as soon as he had sold his first painting. It was all right to marry your mother's first cousin's daughter and Freny was fond of Tehmi. But Tehmi went before his first painting was sold. Her cancer hadn’t given her much time between detection and death. The doctor had described it as a galloping cancer, and it swept her away. No drugs could stop it. One day Tehmi had felt the food stick in her throat and a month later she was gone. The shock had sent Hoshi Uncle into his own shell. There he had created a secret world where he must have seen and heard much that people outside couldn’t. It showed in the occasional smile that slid over his drooping lips. Six months later, he too died. In his sleep. He had willed Sylvania to Tehmi. Now it was Feroze's. But the new master hadn’t visited it for years afterwards.