After that I don’t know what happened or what I did until that night, when Pappa made a bed for me on the divan in the living room.

He said, “Jeeta, come to Pappa.” I couldn’t even make it to his outstretched arms before I began crying. He put me on his lap, and I buried my face in his soft, muslin nightshirt and told him what had happened.

“I don’t want to be the third one, I don’t want to be the third one,” I said between my sobs.

“I’m glad you’re my third one. You are my Jeeta, my victory. You bring nothing but joy and love,” he said. “Do you listen to the wandering street dogs that bark nonsense?”

I shook my head.

“Idle talk is like the barking of a dog. Don’t listen to the talk and don’t mind the talk.”

That advice, for whatever reason, stuck with me. Meanwhile, Mummy gave me a lot of advice and made me aware of what people would say, but it all slipped off me, like water from a lotus leaf.

A couple of days later, Mohini had a cold and didn’t come to the pool. After swimming, I took a quick shower and waited for Chiraj and Vivek, hoping they would do thaga-thiya, and take their time.

The three boys came out, and the one with the towel around his shoulders smiled, then stopped. “Your friend didn’t come?”

Even though I’d pretended he smiled for Mohini, my heart sank. “My sister isn’t well,” I replied.

“I’m sorry. I hope you don’t get sick.”

“Hey, Neel, come on,” one of his friend said, looking back.

“See you tomorrow,” Neel said, and ran to catch up with his friends.

“Neel,” I said to myself, and turned his name over in my head as if it were a piece of rock candy in my mouth. I liked the sound of it and its meaning. “Neel” meant blue, blue like Lord Shiva’s neck, blue like a cloudless sky, blue like the Indian Ocean, and blue like a lotus, neelkamal.

On our way back from the pool, I thought about Neel. I wondered if he liked Mohini. He did ask about her, so he must like her. But when I told him she wasn’t feeling well, he told me not to get sick. Does that mean he likes me? Mohini is so pretty! Everyone says so. Why would anyone like me over her? Yet he always looks at me and smiles. He stopped to talk to me. What does it mean? My head started spinning out thoughts that got all tangled up into a tight ball.

I wished I had a friend I could talk to.