‘It’s fairly obvious.’ He peered down his long nose. ‘The water bowl on the left, the clean palm even while eating rice, the slight self-deprivation. Yes, I noticed how you did not ask for another helping despite wanting to. Of all the people gathered here, you are the only who deserves to sleep on a bed rather than in a sty. Those around us are already on their third or fourth servings, clearly having abdicated being men in favour of being pigs. And the way you covered your face when you burped. Amongst savages, burping is more of a competition than a social offense.’

‘You figured I was from Meru by the way I ate?’

‘There were other signs too. The faint cane marks on your wrists. Why do the Acharyas think they need to beat rules into you?’

Nala laughed, annoyed that he had given himself away so easily. He couldn’t help but notice that even the Namin had been eating with the precision of a surgeon, his lips unsmeared with food, the plate tidy, and the passageway between thumb and index finger clean. ‘Erm... good table decorum makes up for lack of good food up there.’

The Namin chuckled. ‘Meruvians, in essence, are diplomats, and table manners constitute the cradle of diplomacy. You see, when we were still barbarians, eating wasn’t a mundane affair. The tools used to eat a boar were the same ones used to cleave an enemy. One could never be sure whether one was walking into a peace-dinner or a sword-fight. That is why a system of rules was devised to keep the animal spirit within us in check while we ate.’

‘I did not know that. Are you from the Meru too, Reverend One?’

‘No. What’s your name lad?’

‘Nala. What may I call you, Revered One?’

‘Ah, let’s keep that a mystery. No good ever comes from anyone knowing my name.’

IV

Nala could not sleep, though he wanted to. So, he rose quietly and went out to the balcony that encircled the first storey. The night was eerily warm. The air still stank of resin. He arched over the railing, breathing deeply. Below, at the bottom of a rather dizzy descent, the river wound through dense woods. He knew trees dotted the slope of the high hill on which the Mansion stood, but he could barely see them under the moonless sky.

Nala felt content. He thought of the day that had been. He had got along well with the unnamed Namin. Then there was the gracious Prince Bheem. As the day had come to an end, Nala and his brothers had resigned themselves to carrying the drunk Caani and Matre home. That was when Bheem had come forward, inviting them to stay in the Mansion’s guest quarters. Courtesy demanded they refuse respectfully, but exhaustion had already claimed their pride. If this was how noble the nobles were, Nala swore to study harder to pass with good marks from Meru. Maybe Bheem could put in a good word for him, so he was sent to Hastina as an Acharya when he graduated. Nala sighed with pleasure at the thought.