You said, ‘Your soul will tell you which road to take. You will hear your soul direct you.’

‘But very often it isn’t clear,’ your friend said. ‘Personal experience isn’t always enough to predict the outcome of a decision. The soul has nothing to help it proceed. So it’s confused. What then? How will you decide? Tell me.’

‘You have to know yourself inside out,’ you told your friend. ‘You have to understand what it is you really want. Actually, all our decisions have been taken before our life even begins. We only come to know of each decision when we accept it. We discover that a given decision has in fact been taken already, long before we were even aware of it.’

Your friend’s wife put down her cup of tea. Looking at you eagerly, she said, ‘Explain.’

‘That’s not so easy,’ you said. ‘Probably impossible. All I can do is give you an example. Let’s say I’m out driving one day and I run someone over. The decision about what to do with the injured man has already been taken, before my life even began. All that’s left to me at that moment is to stand at the confluence of time and feel a mild throbbing in my brain. That’s where all the decisions are gathered, waiting to emerge with the flow of events.’

I was sitting beside you in the passenger seat, thinking of that day. As we crossed Elgin Road, you said, ‘Take the medicine at night.’

I sighed. ‘No, I won’t take any more medicine.’

‘Don’t call me and cry when the pain gets worse.’

‘No, I won’t cry.’

‘I’ll put all the phones on silent when I go to bed tonight. I’ve put up with enough disturbance these past months. No more.’

‘Just give me a couple of days, then I’ll leave.’

You braked. ‘What are you talking about? I told you you can go after the surgery.’

‘I’m not going to have the surgery.’

You looked about for the bottle of water. I didn’t help you. Unable to locate the bottle, you started the car again. After you dropped me off, you waited a couple of moments before speeding away.

Once inside the flat, I lay down without changing my clothes. I told myself that I would have to find a place very soon. I would have to pack all my things and get ready for the move. I’d accumulated so many belongings over the past year and a half. Just needless baggage, I told myself. I should have kept in mind that I might have to leave at any moment. The biggest question was: Would I find a flat to rent in Kolkata within the time I needed? Would I be able to get a space of my own?

I went out on to the balcony very early the next morning. There was a cool breeze. The city appeared tranquil. I ran my gaze over all the plants on my balcony, studying them. I had so many in my collection now. Some hanging, some in their special pots. Here was someone out for a morning stroll. The city would be awake in another half hour – hundreds of people and vehicles would emerge onto the roads. The noise would build. Clothes washed in the morning would be black by the afternoon, even before they had fully dried. Layers of dust would settle on the plants, rendering them unrecognisable within a matter of days.