The procession of five sets off. At the Udipi's they have idli, dosa, vada, sambar and an incendiary chutney along with Prakash's confusions. While everyone eats, Prakash stumbles over the critical crossroads he finds himself at, now that he is out of art school and in the big, wide world of art. He is particularly disturbed by what Kruttika has said. If this is what young artists are doing, or are supposed to do, how can he continue to paint?

Feroze sighs. ‘Confusion is an artist's permanent condition. We are always standing at a crossroads. Right, Ashesh?’

Prakash is silent for a moment. ‘But I have only just started painting. How can I start doing video art and all? Won’t I need special training for that?’

‘Why should you do video art? Just paint.’

‘But what about the political context and all that? I don’t think about politics much. I’ve never thought of painting like that.’

‘Forget all that. Do what you most feel like doing. Your paintings must be your truth. Nobody else besides you has experienced that. Just look into yourself and believe what comes out of there.’ Feroze has had his say. Prakash swallows.

A silence falls on the table, shredded only by the waiters’ shouted orders. Anima has been watching Feroze with some admiration. This man's goodness of heart is infinite. Janaki turns to Ashesh. She has been waiting to say something to him. His eyes turn towards her at the same time and an unexpected spark passes between them. Ashesh looks away and Janaki bends her head to gaze at the lemon-coloured laminate of the table. When the waiter brings the bill, Ashesh puts his hand over it. A sharp desire to place her hand over his leaps in Janaki's heart. She makes herself turn towards Prakash who is saying, ‘But that will be even more difficult for me, sir. To look inside me . . . How do I do that? And how will that tell me about painting? I once tried to meditate. They say that's how you can reach into yourself. I’m not sure if I reached in but nothing came from inside. It was all dark.’

Feroze is exhausted. He nods to get through this one. But Prakash's eyes are still fixed on him, full of faith and hope. Janaki would like to be swallowed by a dark pit. ‘Please, Prakash,’ she begins. ‘No, no, that's all right.’ The milk of human kindness spurts once again in Feroze's heart. Ashesh eyes him with amusement. ‘What our young friend says is right. When you enter a dark room all you can see at first is darkness. But when you stay put, you begin to see lines and forms and shades. Darkness has many shades. Ask Ashesh how often we’ve found ourselves thrashing around in the dark.’

‘Still doing it,’ Ashesh smiles ruefully. The waiter brings the change.

‘What's this? It was supposed to be my treat.’