He got dressed and went outside. The sun beat down fiercely. There was no sign of rain. Govinda looked up at the blue sky.

‘Hey! Butt-scratcher want to play?’ asked Nitesh.

‘No,’ said Govinda. He ignored his friend and kept walking.

All things appeared to be as they should. He walked up the short, winding lane to the main road. A stream of motorists, lorries, cars and taxis raced up and down it. The chauffeurs blew their horns. Rickshaws negotiated their precarious paths amid the crowd. Panting coolies found breath to yell at one another and shouted to the passers-by to make way while itinerant vendors proclaimed their wares. He sat under a tree and watched for a while.

Govinda walked back towards the school. Serpent Lane seemed to be the meeting place of a hundred peoples with men and women of all colours, Tamils, Chinese, Armenians, Sikhs and Bengalis, calling to one another in raucous tones. From the gate he could see the school and his home on the second floor. The classroom windows were shut. Seeing it like this, he felt the whole school belonged to him. He crossed the playground, saw Nitesh, frowned, and decided he did not want to play with him. ‘Hey, Butt-scratcher,’ said Nitesh, ‘why are you behaving so strange?’

He kept walking and thought about Nitesh’s question. He felt like he had stepped out of a mist and he knew that he was no longer what he had been. But what had he been before the changes that were taking place in him? Since the death of the elephant his body seemed different. Older and stronger. Not knowing how to differentiate himself from things, up to that point, he knew now he was no longer just one person amongst many. Somehow he was different.

‘Don’t ignore me,’ said Nitesh. ‘Want to play cricket?’

Govinda entered the school building. It was dark and agreeably quiet. He climbed the stairs towards their front door. He let himself in.

Inside the old apartment was filled with light from the large open windows. French doors opened onto the balcony. As he looked down from the balcony onto the playground some birds swooped past the servants’ quarters where Ashok stood smoking and spitting on the ground. Nitesh was throwing a tennis ball against the school wall and catching it.

Govinda walked around the large apartment with its strong wooden furniture, large silk cushions, potted plants, brass statues and high ceilings. He could hear his mother talking to the cook in the kitchen.

When they saw him, his mother said he should eat. Mumbles served him. He ate alone and in silence. He no longer liked the cook to serve him but he was not brave enough to ward off his service. Anyway, he liked eating the food Mumbles prepared because it was delicious. They were trying fresh recipes from new cookbooks. His mother brought out Tandoori Lamb Chops that were marinated with a combination of yogurt, spices, lemon juice, ginger, and then grilled. Mumbles brought him rice and a curry made from seasoned fresh vegetables cooked together and flavoured with secret spices. After he ate he felt sleepy. He made his way to bed.