The noise subsided as soon as our teacher, Mrs. Desai, walked in, wearing a starched light gray sari with a red border and a matching blouse. Every day she wore a thick gold necklace and diamond stud earrings, and between her two gold bangles she slipped on glass bangles that matched her sari, so today they were red and gray.

One by one Mrs. Desai assigned seats, and one by one my friends left me. Finally she said, “Jeeta Parekh in the third row with Sarina Shrimali.”

I wasn’t thrilled to sit with a new student. Often, they were dodh dyha, wise-and-a-half, which made other students look disorderly and ignorant. But Sarina’s father was a high court judge and I didn’t want to offend her. You never know when you might need the help of a high court judge, I thought.

I smiled as I sat down beside Sarina. There were just two to a bench, and I knew I must make her my friend quickly or else the year could be very long.

In between every class I talked with Sarina. She was tall with a copper-colored complexion. Her mehndi-conditioned hair was glossy with bronze highlights. It was as if she were born of fire, like Draupadi in the epic poem Mahabharat. Her arms and legs were long, and her eyes had a liquid quality that made her face soft like the rising sun.

She raised her hand in every class and answered every question correctly. Her brilliance was overwhelming for an average student like me.

That afternoon at lunch recess she sat with Janki, Yamini, and me. Each of us had a tiffin, a three-tiered lunch box from home delivered to us by the tiffinwallah. Most of the students’ stainless steel tiffins contained the same things: dal, rice, rotli, and vegetables. While we were taking out our food I noticed that Sarina came back empty-handed.

“Where’s your lunch?” I asked.

“I don’t know. It should’ve been here.”

“I think the tiffinwallah have delivered for the day.”

“Oh, no,” Sarina said, looking around the lunchroom. Everyone was busy opening their boxes.

“Eat with me,” I said. “I have more food than I can finish, and since it’s the first day of school, Mummy has also packed a container of yogurt with sugar and pistachio nuts.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

“Here,” I said, serving her rotli and spicy peas and potatoes. “I never say no to food that’s placed in front of me.”

“Jeeta’s telling the truth. She never does,” Yamini piped in.

“It’s because she has two sisters and two brothers,” Janki said.

“She has only one sister at home now. Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Yamini asked Sarina.

“No. Only cousins.”

“No wonder you’re too shy to share my food,” I said.