It was just such a viral clusterfuck that found Harbart a sitting duck. As everyone knows, usually it is the higher-ups who hog the eggs hatched by the indefatigable fucking of the ducks. In these cases, however, it’s the doctors who relish them. For the virus-warfare weapons are entirely and only in their control.

It started with an ache in his back and waist and shoulder, and a streaming nose. He’d thought a plateful of deep-fried chilli-fat balls and a concentrated dose of local liquor (“Returning the empty bottles in unbroken condition will result in a Rs 2.05 refund per bottle”) would force the fidge-fidge-nanny of a fever to flee his veins—but the result was the opposite. The fever reared its ugly head and roared. Scorched his senses. Made him vomit. Two days later, when Jyathaima found him unconscious, she shouted for Dhanna-dada. Dhanna grumbled his way to Dr. Shetal, the homeopath, in his chamber beside the saloon, although the outcome of that visit was not very clear. Because the fever soared higher. Made Harbart delirious.

“Got a brick! Got a brick!” he’d scream, and then fall back unconscious again. The fever took him far away. Somewhere else. He was stuck there—he didn’t know where. At a dead end. Full of filth. The ground slippery and wet. But he couldn’t turn back, couldn’t get out. Because on the trash mountain sat a one-eyed mangy cat. Waiting to pounce if he dared move an inch. So Harbart picked up a bit of brick, mustering up courage to throw it at the cat in case he twitched. And screamed: “Just you try and bite me, you mangy cat you, I’ve got a brick. Got a brick.”

The doctor and Somnath silently exchange glances. Koka puts a cold compress on his forehead. So good that feels. Upstairs, up the wooden stairs, up in a room somewhere, the one who had drawn nearer, leaned closer to blow out the candle, that someone was leaning over him now, looking into his eyes but his eyes cannot see … and the one-eyed mangy cat pounces …

“Got a brick! Brick! Bri …”

Once, he opened his eyes. Saw the room from deep underwater. Jyathaima, Somnath, Bulan, Koka … window …

“Jyathaima! Jyathaima!”

“Yes, dear. I’m right here.”

“So weak.”

“It’s the fever, son. You’ll be better soon.”

“That mangy cat keeps trying to bite me.”

“It won’t come anymore. I’ll shoo it away.”

“Won’t come?”

“No, it won’t come.”

The mangy cat didn’t come anymore. But that same night, across Harbart’s eyes came screaming and lurching a crowd of people of whom only the lower halves remained. Nothing but air above their legs. Somnath was dozing in a chair by his side. Harbart’s whimpers woke him up and he quickly switched on a light. Harbart’s eyes were shunting left and right, up and down. Then a little later he broke out in a sweat. Then fell asleep. Then Somnath fell asleep too.

For the rest of that night, only Shobharani stayed awake, cooling and caressing Harbart’s forehead.