The headmaster’s wounds were sore and he appeared to have lost interest in everything. Nursing his third glass of Black Dog and soda that night, he said he no longer wished to go to Australia. He blamed himself for Mumbles’ death and Ashok’s injuries. ‘I am at fault. The fact that his family is now without a father is unthinkable,’ he said as he lit a cigarette.

‘Will they catch the bad people?’ asked Govinda.

‘No one in the government is apologising to the Sikhs,’ said his father. ‘Police officers just stood around. They watched arson, rape, looting and murder, without making any attempt to intervene. In some cases they watched and helped the attackers. How can we trust these bastards?’

‘What can we do?’ Govinda asked.

‘I’m afraid I don’t know, beta. Come what may, we must celebrate your mother’s birthday,’ his father said, gulping his drink.

Sunil Seth believed that if he didn’t invite everyone he knew it would not be a real birthday party. Govinda scanned the invitation list a day before the party and could not recognise the names of most of the people who were invited. The house teemed with anticipation as the new cook, Rani, sang happily while preparing dishes for the picnic. Gitanjali took no part in any of it.

For her birthday, Gitanjali wore a black dress and black eye make-up.

‘How can I celebrate when I am in mourning?’ she said to Sunil.

The birthday party was to be held on the banks of the chocolate-coloured Hooghly River where foreign ships docked. On many weekends Govinda and his father had walked along the Strand beside the docks, like other families, and his father would tell him stories. There were perilous whirlpools and undercurrents in the river.

‘There is a legend,’ his father told him, ‘that if the Ganges fell from the Himalayas it would have deluged the Earth, but Lord Shiva subdued the powerful river goddess by binding her into his divine, matted coils of hair.’

The river, Govinda knew, was sacred. If you took a dip in it the river would wash away all sins and you would receive a great blessing. The river started in the holy mountains. At its source the water was fresh, cold and clear but by the time it flowed down into the cities, spreading into its various tributaries, the river became polluted. People did all things to it. They lived beside the river, drank its water, washed, and took their cattle to it. People even were cremated beside the river, and their ashes are thrown into it.

Ashok drove them to the banks of the Hooghly at four o’clock. ‘Better to leave early,’ Ashok said. ‘Today is the end of Kali puja. This evening the goddess will be immersed into the river.’