A short time later, Govinda lay awake in his own bed, under a belching fan. For all its noise the fan gave off little cool air. He feared it would fall on him and squash him flat but the fan droned on. His chest felt tight with fear. He was turning it all in his mind. His bed smelt of tigers, bears and elephants. He called out to his mother. Gitanjali and Mumbles came to him.

‘What is it, Govinda?’

‘Will we be washed away, Mum?’

‘What nonsense this is, Govinda! Cut it out. Do you want to go to the zoo tomorrow?’

‘More than anything! Please don’t leave me behind. Would you leave me behind?’

‘I will leave you behind if you do not go to sleep now,’ said his mother.

Well past midnight, Govinda opened his eyes. He was wide awake, suddenly vigilant and brittle with exhaustion from his battle against the reality of life. While tossing and turning he heard the voices of singing beggars. The fan wheezed and coughed. ‘I don’t want to be cursed,’ he said to himself. Across the hall he heard his father snoring. His mother groaned. Then he heard movement coming from the kitchen, or the spare bedroom beyond, the scurrying of rats. He felt horribly alone, abandoned by everyone. Again there were sounds of movement. A part of him wanted to wake up his parents. He wanted them to hear, so he wouldn’t have to be alone with the hijra’s spell. But no one woke up this time and in the silence that followed he lay in bed unable to sleep. He knew that a curse was renewed from moment to moment. Time carried the curse for ever. Thinking of the hijra’s curse, he was wrung with fear. What if he dreamed about the rats? What if they pursued him in his sleep? The thought made him shiver. And now faced with the long night ahead, he imagined he was inside the earth. There was no one he could turn to – no one but the clutching dark. He did not want to be uncaring and uncared for. He did not want to be taking steps in the darkest, wettest, most lonely direction. He wondered how he could escape the curse.

The next morning Govinda slept late and then ate his breakfast slowly without an appetite. He shouldn’t have felt this way, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what the hijra had said.