Sindhutai comes out of the house to pluck flowers for her puja, catches sight of Bachchu Kaka and halts on the veranda, taken aback. Recovering, she laughs and says, ‘Where were you all these days? It's like the sun rising in the west. Would you like to come in? I’ll make tea.’

‘No thanks. It's lovely out here.’

Sindhutai comes down the steps and begins to pluck mogras, which are in full bloom now. Without looking at Bachchu Kaka, she asks casually, ‘Been to Mumbai recently?’

‘A while ago.’

‘Did you meet Ashesh–Nima?’

‘No. Went in the morning, back in the evening. I’ll meet them on the next trip. Why?’

‘Oh nothing. Anima was here. She didn’t mention you, so I thought she’d forgotten. You go every month, don’t you?’

‘Can’t do that now. Also there's less work.’

Sindhutai's little basket is filled with flowers. ‘Why don’t you come in? It’ll get quite hot out here.’

‘I’m a man of the sun. I’m not afraid of its heat. I’m more afraid of people.’

‘I too. You never know when people will betray you. They disappear on a whim. No worry or concern for those they leave behind.’

‘That's not true, Sindhutai. Shankar was more than concerned. He practically forced you to sign for a joint account so he could put everything he had into it.’

‘Only money. What about loneliness? Does money make that go away?’

Bachchu Kaka has no answer. He sits looking glumly at the Gandhi mandir. The early morning sun shows up the fine spiderweb that is strung across the niche in front of him, making it shimmer. ‘The mandir looks uncared for.’

‘Who's to care for it with Rama gone?’ Sindhutai demands angrily.

A light breeze blows an old, dry leaf off the peepul tree. It drifts down to rest on Bachchu Kaka's lap. He stares at it for a while, then sets it down beside him on the bench. He gets up, takes the handkerchief from his pocket and gently winds the spiderweb around it. Sindhutai watches him with cold eyes as he does the same with the other three niches. He picks up the holy books one by one and wipes the dust off their covers.

‘Why this sudden love for holy books in the atheist's heart?’

‘My friend wasn’t an atheist. The love is for him. Why has Rama stopped coming?’

‘You know the answer.’

‘How would I know?’

‘Because you have informers all over the padas.’

‘I hardly go there any more. Others have entered the field.’

‘You may not go to the padas, but the padas come to you.’

‘Your network of informers seems to be stronger than mine. But never mind. My informer told me Dr Bhaskar abused Rama.’

‘That's an outright lie.’

‘That's why I asked you for the true reason.’