‘What do you want to know?’ he yelled. His nerves were so taut that he felt as though his head was going to explode.

‘I want you to tell me the truth, that’s all. I want you to let go of the burden you’ve been carrying with you all these years. I want you to live, Madhav! Live as yourself, not some gruesome, twisted version of someone else.’ Radhika spoke as earnestly as she could, not wanting to aggravate him further.

‘What do you want to know?’ he asked, his voice ringing through the valley below. ‘What do you want to know?’ The veins on his neck were now visibly throbbing.

‘I know everything, Madhav. I just want to hear you say it,’ she said, trying to calm him down.

Madhav went down on his knees, groaning as though in pain, his face buried in his hands. Radhika held his shoulders, caressing him, her warmth easing his pain a bit.

‘I killed him,’ he said abruptly, his words piercing through the air. Radhika’s hands fell from his shoulders and she crumpled on to the grass next to him as her knees gave way in shock.

‘Did you know this? Did you? Of course you did not!’ She numbly watched his face contort in pain.

‘You killed Parth?’ she asked, hardly recognizing the words that left her mouth. She had suspected that Madhav was a witness to Parth’s death, but never once had it occurred to her that he might have caused it.

‘Yes, I killed him. I killed Parth.’ Madhav broke down. Radhika didn’t have the strength to hold him. She draped her shawl across his shoulders and waited for him to speak. ‘That is why I have kept him alive inside me,’ he said. ‘It just happened, Radhika. I didn’t mean to. Any of it . . .’

‘What exactly happened, Madhav? I want to know.’ She held his hand and sat next to him. The skies had turned a soft greyish purple and the wind had ceased its howling. Even the birds had returned to their nests, so it was calm when Madhav began to speak.

16

1996

Hilltop School, Nainital

Sixteen years ago, shortly after my tenth birthday, my parents got fed up with my troublesome, lazy ways and decided to send me off to boarding school. I wondered if I would fit in at my new school. I was scared to leave my parents and go. But I had to; I had no say in the matter.

It was my first day at Hilltop. It was a posh school with the kids of politicians and businessmen throwing their weight around. I missed my parents terribly and felt alienated by the moneyed lot.

My life always seems to take an unexpected turn as soon as I start predicting it. My first English lesson was in the lower sixth common room—a sunlit classroom overlooking the lush gardens and rolling hills. There were thirty-one students, nineteen of them girls. One of them was Shriya.