“I’m glad they aren’t,” Ahmad interjected. He was relieved when they moved on.

“I don’t remember any of this,” Vijay Bhai remarked idly as they strode on. “Where are the dollar carts of samosas and the man who sold wishing lamps?”

That reminded Ahmad, and he tugged on his uncle’s arm to make him stop. “You never did tell me why you know so much about Paheli.”

Vijay Bhai didn’t look him in the face, still staring upward toward the plexiglass balconies and digital billboards. “I’ve spent some time here, in the past.”

“Wait, really? As a player? When? How?”

“So does that mean you won the game?” Winnie interjected eagerly.

“Unfortunately, no.” Vijay Bhai’s mouth twisted bitterly. “My experience . . . well, let’s say it was less of a pleasurable trip and more of a forced stay.”

“So you were trapped in here?” Ahmad asked. He tried to picture Vijay Bhai surviving in Paheli, and just couldn’t see it. To describe Vijay Bhai as bad with technology was an understatement. Even Ma understood what YouTube was, how to log in to her e-mail, and she could definitely tell you about a few popular shows on TV.

Vijay Bhai, though—forget YouTube, he was still wrapping his mind around the Internet, and personal computers. It took him a month to figure out how to hail a taxi, and the smallest excursion, like going to Starbucks or the local library, was treated with the same excitement as a vacation overseas.

Picturing him in this world of floating crosswalks and flying cars was impossible.

“It wasn’t anything like this,” Vijay Bhai said, waving his arm at their surroundings. “Back then, my best friend and I settled down to play a game that involved sand and simple tokens. We didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into. I didn’t know how much of my life that one decision would take away from me.”

Winnie seemed spellbound. “How much did it take?”

Even T.T., who had gotten distracted by a wide wheel of cheese suspended in a holographic display case, glanced up at Vijay Bhai to hear his reply.

“Years,” Vijay Bhai said softly. “My whole youth, really. And the world moved on without me.”

Ahmad was caught by another, small detail. “Your best friend—but wait, wasn’t that Aunt Zohra? My aunt Zohra was in here too?”

Vijay Bhai gave him a long, searching look. “You were too young, weren’t you?” he said softly, almost as though speaking to himself. “And yet, the memory of Paheli did stay with you in some ways. I should have known, with all the sketchbooks you’ve filled and the questions you sometimes asked. I should have told you sooner, maybe. I should have been like Zohra and expected it to start again.”