The crowds increased as the evening wore on. There was a robust haze over the river, which had turned silvery-black. Shrouded in mist that drifted up the steep slope as if in search of them, the river slid by utterly silent and swift like some elusive, complex snake. The damp track with its moss and fallen leaves went down the steep bank. From the direction of Fort William came the rattle and chaos of a brass band. The members were dressed in navy blue and red uniforms with brass buttons, shiny black shoes and red turbans. A couple of performers were swallowing kerosene and spitting fire. The blare of copper horns and trumpets and drums increased as the procession approached. The face of the portentous goddess Kali was distorted in a demonic grimace. The women stood somberly, some bowed their heads with deep respect. The crowds broke into shouts and wild gesticulation. Children hid behind their mothers as if to protect themselves from being drawn into the magic circle of this power.

‘All this in order to lead the goddess to her immersion,’ muttered Gitanjali. Her gold earrings glittered as she took them off and placed them in her hand bag.

On both banks of the river, crowds had gathered to see the immersion of Kali. Groups of worshippers were carrying idols of the goddess. In anticipation of ceremonies, children waited with unlit sparklers. A scribe lit catherine-wheels. Drummers and families chanted and hollered. A group of worshippers placed a grinning, black idol in the river.

‘Kali was the wife of Shiva,’ a woman explained to her child. ‘When Kali died Shiva placed her corpse on his shoulders and almost destroyed the world.’

Gitanjali sniffed, ‘Grief is terrible.’

‘The other gods decided Shiva needed to be stopped,’ continued the woman. ‘So Vishnu dismembered her corpse. Her little toe landed near this river and a temple was built.’

Govinda suddenly had an eerie feeling. He remembered the riots and the drive to the airport. He recalled people being hunted down and burnt. He’d seen how Indians could turn on each other. He was so close to something he could almost smell...But what? A pair of eyes watched him from the darkness. A dog, a jackal, approached him, snarling and bearing its teeth. The idol started to sink.

Govinda ran towards his father when the crackers exploded and bursts of fire lit up the sky. Every few seconds the river lit up in flashes of red, green and yellow. Some of the explosions were cut short, crashing too soon into the river, or they deviated dangerously near the people. The worshippers hooted and screamed as the Brahmins and tribals recited mantras. Another effigy of Kali was gently placed in the river but at first she refused to sink. The effigy remained buoyant then gradually disappeared into the river. It bobbed up again and the drummers beat harder.