Nala had assembled their grandchildren—two from Australia and two from upstairs—in the shrine room where the offerings were laid out. As a boy, the god was renowned for stealing butter from his mother’s pantry. All children loved the tales of his pranks.

Smrithi was given the honour of making Lord Krishna’s footprints. Nala had been about to lift Smrithi’s feet and place them onto a tray of rice flour. She would then be allowed to leave her small, white footprints in a trail from the door of the shrine to the altar where the food sat.

‘Wait, Amma,’ Priya stopped her. ‘Let Dhara do it.’

Nala hesitated, but Priya pushed Dhara forward with an encouraging smile. Dhara lifted Smrithi onto the plate, and together they laughingly made a mess of the shrine room floor.

Rajan suddenly remembered something from his childhood—a fragment of a story thrown randomly into his mind. Lord Krishna was stolen away as a baby to save his life. He was given to and raised by another. A familiar coldness rushed through him.

‘Lord Krishna, forgive us,’ he prayed. ‘You taught us that everything around us is an illusion, it is all Maya. Our attachments to each other, our love, our desires, even our fears—this is all Maya.’

The child should be told. The lies—Maya all around him closed in. He shook his head and prayed again.

•

The children padded quietly across the tiled floor of the study. They gathered around to inspect his withered toes. Their strength and speed were legendary. Rumours had traversed the Indian Ocean and spread quickly among them—rumours that, despite their aged appearance, his toes had the reflexes of Bruce Lee, even if he did not. He stirred, his eyes closed as they prepared to assess the claim passed on by their parents.

Vivek, the eldest at nine years old, was not the bravest. He nominated Smrithi, the naughtiest, to offer her tiny fingers as a sacrifice in this experiment. The rest of them stepped back a little, putting a safe distance between themselves and the famed vice-like grip of those pedestrian digits. Rajan, still pretending to be asleep, tried not to smile as Smrithi scratched the constellation of mosquito bites on her leg one last time, took a deep breath and reached towards her grandfather’s toes.

•

The holiday was almost over. Priya, Siva and Vivek had gone to India for a week of shopping, leaving Smrithi with the family in Cinnamon Gardens. As soon as Priya heard the news about the riots in Colombo, she cut short her expedition. The new plan was for Priya and Siva to fly from Madras back to Colombo. They would stay in the airport for three hours, giving Rajan enough time to bring Smrithi to them. Then they would fly back home to Australia.