“Then let’s play cards. That way we won’t bother these two girls. They have a lot to talk about.”

“Um . . . cards? With you? I suppose.”

Sarina and I gave each other a look. It was impossible not to laugh.

Half an hour after the lunch, Neel managed to get away from the judge, and came to Sarina’s room.

“So did you let Pappa win?”

“I had to.”

“Pappa only quits playing after he wins,” Sarina explained to me.

Neel picked up my dupatta, which was dragging on the floor to one side.

“This shade looks good on you,” he said, fingering the cloth.

“Thanks.”

For the next few minutes Sarina rattled off details about the picnic. I tried to listen to what she was saying while Neel played with my dupatta. It was as if he were tugging at my heart, and I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

When I looked at my watch I realized I’d been away for too long. I hurried home, thinking about Neel. There was no other choice but to convince Mummy to let me go to the picnic.

As soon as I got home I rushed to ask Mummy if I could go with Sarina. “An all-day picnic in the middle of the wedding?”

“No, no, after Mohini and Anoop leave for their honeymoon. Please, Mummy, let me go. I’ve never been there. It’ll be fun to spend a day with my friends.”

Mummy was quiet for a while and then she looked up and asked, “Who is going?”

“Sarina.”

“Who else? You said friends.”

“Maybe her Mummy and Pappa.”

“Since when did they become your friends?”

I knew that if Mummy suspected that Neel was also going, she’d never let me out of the house. As I fumbled for an answer, she said, “First, find out who’s going with her. Even by car I won’t allow the two of you to go that far alone. Did you deliver the invitation?”

“Yes, and they said they’ll all come.”

“The judge too?”

“Yes, the judge, the doctor, and their daughter.”

Mummy smiled. “I suppose you can go to Vihar Lake with them.”

“Thanks, Mummy,” I said, and gave her a bear hug.

The next day Sarina came late to school. By the time she’d settled in, class had begun. “Neel wants to know, can you go?” she whispered.

“What are you two talking about?” Mrs. Kailas said. Besides Hindi, she taught us history and geography.

“I . . . I didn’t say a word,” I stuttered.

“All right, if you were paying attention, what independence movement were we talking about?”

My mind turned as dark as a cave. I looked down and saw “Bharat Chhodo, Quit India,” which Sarina had written in big bold letters in her notebook.

“Bharat Chhodo.”

“Good, and Sarina, what were you whispering to Jeeta? And don’t deny it. I saw it with my own eyes.”