‘Selfie,’ I yelled, as half-naked men and Latika leapt into the frame. Reaching forward, I grabbed another glass and downed its contents. I stood up and swayed, but recovered by pretending to dance. Latika laughed and joined me. The music was loud, hypnotic even, and I allowed the alcohol to numb the pain I felt inside. Latika took copious amounts of pictures; I only hoped that she would not post them online without first passing them by me. As the night progressed, people joined us, some for the photo opportunity, and others for a quick drink. Gaurav came in and tried to start an argument with Latika, but I quickly intervened, telling him to get lost. Then Kavya walked into the tent. I could see the anger etched on her face. I smiled, trying to defuse the argument that was coming.

‘Have you been here the whole time?’ she yelled at me.

‘Oh, relax, Kavya. Look! We have a new friend!’ I draped my arm around Latika, whose swaying caught me off-guard. I stumbled. Kavya grabbed my arm and dragged me from the marquee. Outside, I snatched my arm back.

‘What are you doing?’ I shouted at her. I could see the anger rise as she compressed her lips. ‘I’m having fun, and all you have done since we left my apartment is police me. I’m sick of it, Kavya! You’re not my mother, and you’re not my keeper! You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me!’ I could see that the last sentence hurt her. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘I’m just having a little fun. This whole thing with Puneet, and now Gaurav being here, it’s just a little too much.’ I reached out to touch her arm. She recoiled from me.

‘That’s fine, Jhanvi. You don’t have to worry about me policing you anymore. I’m done.’ She walked away, disappearing into the crowd. I lifted my hand to my face; this was why I never expressed how I felt. It always ended in unnecessary conflict. I turned around and walked back into the marquee where Latika was waiting for me, drink in hand.

‘Your friend is not coming back?’ she slurred as she handed me the drink. I shook my head, not wanting to tell her about our argument. ‘Oh well. More for us.’ She knocked her shot glass against mine, spilling half its contents before downing the rest. I followed suit, swallowing quickly. My stomach was beginning to feel strange.

From behind me, one of the men that had been with Latika when I first arrived shouted, ‘Party foul! That’s another shot.’ He handed each of us another glass. This time the liquid was red and smelled of cinnamon. I shook my head; the room was spinning.

‘Oh, come on, Jhanvi. Don’t be a spoilsport now,’ Latika said. I took the glass and downed it. My stomach instantly objected. I walked away as best I could. I needed some air. Outside, the night was muggy; it did nothing for the nausea I felt. I stumbled forward through the crowds, trying to make my way to the portable toilets set up for festival-goers. Leaning against one, I tried the door. Occupied. I moved on to the next and the next and the next. I cursed. I couldn’t be sick. Not so close to the VIP area, and definitely nowhere that anyone could document it. In the distance, in the grounds that housed all the campers, a few cubicles stood with their doors open. I made my way back through the crowds, bumping into people. My vision was blurry, my feet unstable. Walking between the tents was proving to be a little more challenging than I had expected. I tripped over a rope and fell on my hands and knees. Looking up, I saw the cubicles. I began to crawl slowly. From behind me, two men laughed.