‘This isn’t that landmark-wala Eram,’ Eram said quickly. ‘This is your son Eram. The child you spawned. Your offspring, heir, progeny, sole legal—’

‘I know that. What do you think I am, an idiot?’ A light had finally come on somewhere in Faizl’s brain and, just like that, he was his irritable self again. ‘I can’t find my slippers anywhere in my room. Come help me look for them.’

‘Okay, sure, but I’m in Goa, remember?’

‘Well, when you’re back then. I’m up for another hour or so, I’ll leave the door open.’

‘No, don’t leave the door open, Pa. I’m not . . . Ahh, nevermind. See you soon.’

He cut the call. Even the thought of explaining what a poker tournament was, what Goa was and why he couldn’t be back from there within the hour to hunt for the missing slippers exhausted Eram. He was long past the point where his feelings could be hurt by the fact that his father hadn’t even noticed that he wasn’t around.

Eram sat at one of the tables scattered about the pool area and toyed with a tiny standing menu advertising the cocktails of the day.

If this were a poker movie, I would get properly wasted, determined to throw away my life, but at some point in the night a major secret about my past would be revealed to me. I would show up late to the tournament tomorrow, probably in a leather jacket, and sweep the field. The winning hand would either be some epic bluff by the villain that I would catch with a soul read, or I would hit a goddamn royal flush.

He was about to order a pint of beer as the first step on this journey towards redemption when raised voices nearby distracted him. There was a hedge hiding the actual poolside bar from the tables where Eram was seated. When he stood on tiptoe to take a look, he saw Gehna.

She was drunk.

He could tell because she was trying, and failing, to climb on to one of the eight tall stools that stood like sentinels around the oakwood bar counter. She would hold the rotating seat in both hands, try to step on to the metal railing at the base of the stool, miss and stumble.

It bothered Eram to see Gehna so messed up, but what really made him turbulent was that she wasn’t by herself. Three college boys—loud, confident, with expensive haircuts—were crowding around Gehna, pressing another shot of tequila on her. It was their laughter that Eram had heard earlier.

Gehna launched another assault on the barstool. This time, though, when she stumbled, she landed butt first on the ground. The skirt she was wearing bunched itself up around her waist so that her panties were on display. She laughed. The college boys laughed even louder, but Eram saw something dark in the looks they exchanged. One of them squatted besides Gehna and rested his hand on her knee.