Shimmering and swaying on the gentle waves, the four-day-old moon looked like a tiny bindi over the dark face of the Arabian Sea. Once in a while the breeze from the sea picked up, and I shivered. Neel must have noticed, because he took his cardigan off and wrapped it around my shoulders.

I shivered all over again to be so close to him.

“Are you still cold?” he asked as we walked a few more steps.

“No, I’m fine.”

All of a sudden a wonderfully smoky smell filled the air. A young woman, her face glowing like gold sequins in the light of the burning coals, was roasting fresh corn on a sagdi. She was wearing a worn but beautifully embroidered mirror-work skirt and blouse. Her skirt covered her ankles but not her bare feet, and on each of her toes she wore a silver ring. As she rotated the cobs, the darkened kernels released a scent that was impossible to resist. We each ordered one and stood near the woman, warming up. After roasting the corn, she dipped a slice of lemon in salt and ground red pepper and rubbed it on each cob.

Neel, Sarina, and I took the cobs and sat on Marine Drive, while the rest of the family strolled on the footpath. Neel watched the waves as they gathered and crashed against the concrete blocks that had been put there to stop the ocean.

“Neel is hypnotised by the ocean,” Sarina said.

“I am listening, I am eating, I am talking.”

“I am singing, I am swaying, I am falling asleep,” I said, mimicking Neel’s tone.

Sarina laughed so loudly that a couple strolling by turned around.

“Let’s walk,” Neel said, and got up.

While we walked and ate, Neel continued to watch the ocean. He hardly said a word.

It didn’t matter. I was swirling, twirling, furling in the rainbow.

Sarina and Neel brought me home at eleven. They waited in the car until I walked across the courtyard.

When I came into the apartment, Mummy said, “Look at her sailing in like a scented breeze.”

Could she smell the perfume Sarina had sprayed on me? I wondered.

“I’m so tired,” I said, and yawned.

“Go to sleep,” Pappa said.

“Who brought you home?” Mummy asked.

“Sarina,” I said, walking toward the bedroom.

“Who drove?”

I pretended I didn’t hear.

“Probably her father did,” Mummy answered herself.

I was relieved that the living room windows didn’t face the main street and Mummy hadn’t been able to see who had dropped me off.

As I lay on my mattress, I kept unfolding the last few hours over and over again.

Before I drifted to sleep I thought, when am I going to see Neel again?

nine