Aman stopped pacing.

And there it was again: a faint but impatient knock.

They both looked at each other in surprise. They couldn’t remember the last time they had visitors.

Aman walked to the door and unlatched it. A four-foot-tall, pot-bellied man pushed past him. His hair was in a bun on top of his head and the rest fell in dreadlocks, all the way down to his arms. His teeth were yellow and his eyebrows bushy.

The colour drained from Upasna’s face as she stepped forward. ‘Namahkrita, Sanaka.’

Namahkrita? Aman thought. What does that even mean?

‘Namahkrita, Upasna!’ said Sanaka. ‘You’ve been in my thoughts. Both you and the child.’

Aman stared at this dwarf-like man. He had swept his dreadlocks aside, exposing his left forearm where a tattoo faintly glowed—no, not a tattoo—a blue design, a series of unbroken rings between his elbow and wrist. When his muscles flexed, and the intricate and busy pieces appeared to move, Aman realized that the image was of a blue serpent with large scales that encircled the man’s arm.

‘What brings you by?’ Upasna asked.

‘Only one thought. I have much to tell you, Upasna,’ the man said to her. ‘But before I do . . .’ he stopped mid-sentence, raising his eyebrows as if to signal something.

‘Oh, yes . . . uhh, Aman. Excuse us, please,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘Please, Aman. The balcony.’

Aman stood his ground. ‘Who is he?’

‘Aman! We just need a minute or two,’ his mother said. She escorted him to the small area outside they called a balcony and locked the door behind her.

He was alone. This, however, wasn’t his first time on the balcony. Aman instantly ducked and put his eye to the keyhole. Now he could see them, but he could only hear a faint mumbling; the spinning fan drowned out what they were saying. This guy is so weird, he thought.

It was only much later, when the voices were raised, that Aman caught something that made his blood boil: the mention of his father.

‘. . . to decide is for you, Upasna. No longer Avi,’ the man said sternly.

Aman bared his teeth.

‘Hah! My decision?’ He heard Upasna scoff.

Then, suddenly, instead of responding to her, Sanaka turned around and looked straight into the keyhole, his gaze locking on to Aman’s.

Aman jolted back with a start, his heart beating fast in his chest. He couldn’t dare to return to his vantage point. So, he sat on the floor with his back against the railing of the balcony, looking up at the sky’s twilight colours.

Ten minutes later, Upasna opened the balcony door. But she wouldn’t meet his eyes and refused to turn around to face him. Aman didn’t need to see her face to know she was crying.

Sanaka had clearly left—the front door was wide open. Aman’s thoughts were in turmoil—between what he had failed to say in class, what Prakash had said later and what the strange man might have said, everything bunched together into one unhappy cloud above his head. Aman had reached his breaking point. He clenched his fists and looked at his weeping mother. The man had surely thrown more insults his mother’s way and made more attacks on his family name. Any other day, perhaps, he would have let it slide. But not today.