Unlike me, he’d had an easy childhood. He came from a large family. His parents weren’t wealthy, but they did not struggle. His father had spent his whole life working for an international company, which rewarded him well in his retirement. It seemed a natural progression for Rishi to work for a company like BusinessForward. When he landed the job at BusinessForward, his parents packed up their lives in Mumbai and moved halfway across the world to live out their retirement on the beaches of Mexico. They were close to the US for healthcare, and his dad’s retirement fund meant they lived a very comfortable life away from the hustle and bustle of Mumbai.

Walking up the steps to the plane, I froze.

He tugged on my arm. ‘What’s the matter, Ashray? You’ve never flown before?’ I shook my head. Wide-eyed, he locked his arm into mine. ‘Well, this will be a great first then, my friend,’ he reassured me. ‘Next year, you pay for business class.’

I laughed; he had a way of making me feel comfortable. We walked into the plane and looked for our seats. The flight was full of festival-goers taking advantage of the cheap late-night flight. I put my bag on the ground in front of the seat. Rishi tapped me on the back, motioning for me to put it in the overhead compartment. Embarrassed, I did so.

‘Here, sit by the window,’ he said. I squeezed my way over. He showed me how to put my seatbelt on and went into a long-winded discussion about how it would feel as the plane took off, banked and evened out. Announcements came on, but he continued to talk, and I listened intently. Finally, he stopped and, grinning widely, knocked my elbow with his.

‘Hey Ashray, look out the window.’ I turned; around us, the night sky was mottled with the city smog. Below, the lights of Mumbai burned like torches in the distance. I gasped. We had taken off during Rishi’s speech, and I hadn’t even noticed. He laughed at the expression on my face; doubled over, I joined him. The landing wasn’t quite as smooth. I anticipated every bump, convinced the plane’s wing would fall off, plunging us all into a fiery death. Rishi laughed at me, but offered as much reassurance as he could.

We retrieved our bags and made our way through the airport. At the taxi rank, Rishi haggled with a driver for a good fare. He told me we would camp outside the main stage grounds where all the other revellers took short rests. He seemed apologetic, but I was grateful, regardless. By the time we made it to the campsite, the sun was about to rise. Multi-coloured tents littered the horizon; people were making coffee on fires, some looked a little worse for wear from the previous night’s party.

We set up the tent together, although Rishi seemed a little lost on what to do; finally, something I could contribute on. He laid out two sleeping bags and two pillows and insisted we get some sleep before going to the festival. I protested at first, excited to see what was going on, but I had to admit that I was exhausted. My head had barely touched the pillow before darkness enveloped me. I slept soundly; no dreams came. I woke up with Rishi waving a hot cup of black coffee next to me. I sat up, grateful for the sweet hot liquid. I felt it was the only thing that would revive me from my deep slumber.