That man you just threw colour on is very dangerous. Perhaps you have heard his name? Ali Khan? He is a powerful man who can have your whole family killed for humiliating him simply by snapping his fingers. He runs this para. Most people dance to his tune or pay the price, but you are lucky because he likes your father. That is why he did not stop and really give it to you kids. Why do you think he was riding his bicycle on Dol Purnima and no one else had touched him?’

Govinda went home to bathe in water that had been warmed on the stove by Mumbles. The hot water along with cooler water had been poured into a large metal bucket. When the temperature was just right the cook left Govinda to take his bath. Govinda poured water from a mug over his head and washed away the red, green, yellow, blue and purple paint from his body and face. He knocked the metal bucket loudly with the mug and poured water over himself again, flooding the bathroom so that miniature waves sloshed through beneath the door. He wondered if Ali Khan would still be angry. What might he do? He thought of the gatekeeper and the smell of his breath. He poured another mug full of water over his head and shuddered. He emerged from the bathroom clean and scented with soap.

That evening Govinda ate very little of the dinner prepared by Mumbles. He sipped Horlicks before going to bed.

‘Is anything the matter?’ his father asked as he tucked Govinda into bed. ‘How will you be strong if you don’t eat?’

‘Do you know a man called Ali Khan?’

There was no answer, but Govinda detected hesitation. ‘Of course,’ said Sunil Seth eventually. ‘I encouraged his eldest son, who was a little wayward, to finish school and graduate from college.’

‘Is Ali Khan dangerous? Can he really kill people simply by snapping his fingers?’

‘Ali Khan! Who told you he was dangerous?’ his father asked.

‘Tenzing did. Everyone says it.’

‘Ali Khan is a not a dangerous man, Govinda. He is a politician.’

Night had long fallen and the festivities of the day had ceased when there was a loud howling in the school compound. It reached Govinda in his bed. He woke up but a dream lingered in his consciousness. In his dream two ghosts, or two lost souls, perhaps his parents, were arguing with a man. Was it Ali Khan? There was the sound of smashing and then Govinda heard shouting. He couldn’t tell whether his dream was beginning or ending. He feared the man on the bicycle had come to do something dreadful like take him away or hurt his parents. Don’t move, he thought, but he could not lie still.