By the new year, the memory of Mum would fade, so much so that by the coming summer, it would take me a full two weeks to get reaccustomed to her when she’d be back with gifts and a calendar packed with activities. A day before her arrival, Veena would pack her bags and fly to India. Like clockwork. For a while, till I was about seven, I had my own conspiracy theories. I suspected that Mum and Veena were the same, and that this person was playing an elaborate game of chicken just to keep things interesting through the year. I would identify marks on Mum’s body – a scar hidden somewhere in her nape or a mole – and would be amazed at the extensive planning that went into the sham when I couldn’t find them on Veena’s body. ‘Where’s the mole?’ I would cry out in frustration.

Other than autumn, I had a happy childhood. Blissful, even. Another constant presence in my life was Vihaan uncle – my real uncle, but someone I knew as a good friend of Veena’s. A thorough Englishman, he was rarely seen without a suit and a bowler hat. In fact, it wasn’t until I was eleven years old that I realized that he was Indian.

Then there was the towering figure of Abhimanyu Singh of Ranakpour. One of my earliest memories of him is watching him shave – his pre-game ritual – in the dressing room of the Indian team. His sculpted face looked even more pronounced when he peered into the mirror, his head cocked on one side to get a better look with his good eye and nose almost piercing through the glass. He always greeted me with the warmest of welcomes, with his hands on my thin shoulders. That’s about how physical he got with me. No hugs, ever. Perhaps because of his uptight royal upbringing, or the fact that he just didn’t want to give away the slightest of clues of his real relationship with me. He would then introduce me to each team member of the Indian cricket team, saying, ‘You play well today, lads, or I have the young champ waiting in the wings.’ I always attributed my full access to the dressing room and the good seats to Mum. That her fame and connections resulted in my good fortunes in stadiums all over. Little did I know that the cricket connection was much closer, and right in the family – my father.

The first time I became aware of India as an entity was in 1962, when the Sino-India war shook India to its core. I know that because Meera had sang about it on Independence Day and dedicated the song to the soldiers who had sacrificed their lives – a song that pulls at the heartstrings of millions to this day. That was the song that introduced me to the concept that mum was a singer.