“No, he just left for work. I have to go now, too. I’m so glad I got to talk to you.”

“But we really haven’t said anything.”

“Bye.”

“Mohini . . . Mohini?”

There was no answer. I couldn’t figure out why Mohini had called. Did she just want to hear my voice? Did she want to tell me something and then changed her mind? But what? Maybe I was taking her simple straight words and bending them in all different directions. Stop guessing, I told myself.

That night the thoughts I’d pushed away wiggled back. I fell asleep thinking about Mohini, and my sleep was filled with a caravan of dreams. In my dreams Mohini was with me. In the morning only her worries were with me.

Sarina was in Mount Abu and there was no one else I could talk to.

I came up with an excuse to see Neel the next day. “Mummy, I haven’t played with Nupur for a few days. What if I go spend an afternoon with her tomorrow? Nimita would like that, wouldn’t she?”

“Yes, she would.”

I was so happy with myself, I couldn’t stop humming. When Mummy went out, I called Neel. “Can you meet me by Crawford Market?”

“Yes, what time? Maybe we can have lunch together.”

“I only have half an hour.”

“That’s all? It takes longer to get there.”

“I know, but that’s all I have. I’m supposed to be at Nimita’s.”

“I’ll drop you near her house. It’ll give us a little more time.”

I hesitated for a second, then said, “Sure.”

But in the evening, my humming, my good fortune, and my plans were all blown away. I felt chills up and down my back, and my hands and feet turned ice cold. It was hot and muggy out, but I couldn’t stop shaking, and then sneezing.

“The ill-timed rain brings sickness as fast and furious as a wild horse,” Mummy said. She made me hot milk with sugar and tapioca and rubbed my arms and legs to warm them up. My mouth tasted as if I’d eaten bitter neem, and my throat hurt.

“You’re not going to see Nupur tomorrow. Nimita needs a sick guest as much as farmer needs a dead bullock.”

I had no strength to answer Mummy. All I could do was close my eyes and hope I felt better in the morning.

The next day I left a message for Neel that I was sick and wouldn’t be able to see him.

My sickness turned into pneumonia, and for the next week I lay in bed all day long and listened to Mummy jabber away like a talking parrot. Mummy repeated the stories she’d heard at temple. For the first time in my life, I realized that Mummy went to temple more for gossip than for God.