‘This is not a final goodbye,’ said the headmaster in an attempt to console Ashok and Nitesh. Govinda cried. More packing was still to be done and the preparations were incomplete. Their flights had been booked in advance but now they deliberated about how to make it to the airport. Sunil Seth tried calling the airline company; the phone lines were down. Mumbles and his family remained hidden in their apartment.

Mumbles decided it would be safer if he disguised himself. Govinda watched Mumbles cry as his wife cut his hair and shaved his beard.

‘In Sikhism,’ Mumbles said, as his hair fell to the ground, ‘allowing one’s hair to grow naturally is a symbol of respect for the perfection of God’s creation.’ More of his hair fell. ‘I combed my hair twice daily with a Kanga and tied it into a Joora. For me to use the razor is as sinful as incest.’

Later that night, Govinda got up to go to the toilet, and he heard his mother, whispering to someone in the kitchen. Govinda stood near the kitchen door and peeked in.

‘We are about to go to the airport,’ she was saying to the cook. As they sat, he saw her hand lying near Mumble’s leg. ‘He knows nothing and wants you to hide here until it is safe for your family to leave.’

Govinda heard Mumbles say, ‘I have betrayed my faith and my family. I will pay for this.’ Govinda almost did not recognise him with his hair cut. He looked small and in need of protection. He looked up and noticed Govinda.

‘Come here beta,’ the cook said gently to the boy. ‘I made some jalebi for you.’

‘I’m not your son,’ said Govinda. ‘I don’t want anything from you.’

‘You are leaving us. We will miss you,’ Mumbles hugged Govinda. The house was quiet and dark except for the headmaster’s snoring.