Nearby, a lorry carrying two caged bears passed in the opposite direction. A man in an orange turban dodged and avoided the truck and an oncoming rickshaw and almost fell under their car. He yelled obscenities. The traffic came to a halt. A thin, bent rickshaw-puller yelled back at the Sikh, but was struck silent when he saw Gitanjali and leered at her instead. His mother did not seem worried. She was looking back at the Sikh with the orange turban. Govinda wondered if it was Mumbles.

‘Baapree!’ the rickshaw-puller gasped.

What was the rickshaw-puller looking at, Govinda wondered? First the cook and now this rickshaw-puller, how could these other men apart from his father look, really be looking, at his mother? Govinda considered his mother. She had a light complexion and almond-shaped eyes. She kept her appearance simple, with long hair and a little lipstick. She wore a blue western dress that revealed her shoulders and legs.

Govinda’s father paused, then turned on the man. ‘What is the matter, friend? Never seen a woman before? Keep it up, and I’ll give you a clout that will send you all the way into the Bay of Bengal.’

Govinda felt himself stiffen with embarrassment, shame and fear. The rickshaw-puller looked at his father.

‘Bhaisahab, sorry,’ he said sheepishly. ‘Madam, I am very sorry.’

‘Go away, you dirty man,’ Gitanjali cried. ‘Get away!’

Govinda was aware a lot was going on but was not quite sure what. He wondered about servants and why there were lepers and why some people were blessed and others cursed. He wondered why some people didn’t like the Prime Minister while others did and why his father wanted to go to Australia. He wanted to know why there were hijras and why Mumbles and the rickshaw-puller stared at his mother in that way. These people want to have sex. They want to use their rude bits, he thought. His father always said he loved his mother, but he never looked at her in the way that these men did, and if he was to ask his father anything his father would tell him not to interfere with adult business. More and more it seemed adults were always playing make believe.