‘Other men’s wives and sisters are always more fuckable than one’s own. A home-bred chicken tastes no better than lentils.’ Bhagmati believes in the wisdom of clichés.

We are out of Lado Sarai. And again the hot, shimmering tarmac and an expanse of dun-coloured plains. The shadow of the car speeds ahead of us. A tumulus on our left gradually becomes a stone wall, the stone wall becomes a massive battlement of grey and red rock towering sixty feet or more above the ground. We go along an avenue of ancient banyans. I pull up under the shade. On my left is an arched gateway leading into the citadel of Tughlakabad; on my right a viaduct leads to the tomb of the builder Ghiasuddin Tughlak. Its sloping red walls and white marble dome rise above its fortress-like enclosure.

What’s happened to all the urchins who hang around to look after visitors’ cars? Midweek, midsummer. No visitors, no urchins. Calls for a celebration. We celebrate.

‘What’s that?’ shouts Bhagmati pointing to a furry hand with black, tapering fingers clutching the rim of the windscreen. Up comes the face of a rhesus monkey with a request for food—kho-kho-kho-kho. Bhagmati screams and clings to me. The monkey takes fright, scampers away across the road displaying its bright red posterior.

Bhagmati nestles in my arms, I push her away. There is another somebody at the door. ‘Sahib, I’ll look after your car.’

Before I can say ‘Okay,’ another boy turns up. ‘Sahib, it is my turn. He looked after the last car; didn’t you?’

They begin to quarrel, ‘Sahib, didn’t I ask you first? Sahib, it’s not his turn—you decide.’ More urchins come along and clamour for the right to guard my car. I step out, take one by the scruff of his neck. ‘This fellow will look after my car. He’s the only one I will give money to.’

That settles it. Or does it? Four boys follow us up the path leading to the gate of Tughlakabad fort.

‘Sahib, we will show you round the ruins of Tughlakabad.’

‘I know them quite well,’ I reply. ‘We don’t need a guide.’

‘Sahib this is the main gate of the fort.’

‘I know. You don’t have to tell me, jao.’

‘This hollow on the left was a tank; it used to supply drinking water to Tughlakabad.’

‘I’ve told you once, I do not need a guide. Go away.’

‘Sahib, these are the remains of the Meena Bazaar, the women’s market’

I turn on them. ‘Bugger off!’